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see-arcane · 2 years

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Lucy, Jonathan, Mina, and the Bastardization of Their Horror Story

I’ve been chewing on this one for a while. I thought it kind of went without saying among all us bitter bookworms when it came to the TV and movie treatments of Dracula and the characters/arcs therein. A lot is a given by now; a running joke. But goddamn if rereading today’s entry didn’t just tick me right off all over again. So here we go.

Lucy Westenra is best known by public osmosis as ‘Mina’s Hot Best Friend’ and/or the ‘Maneater/Heartbreaker,’ what with her small-scale Helen of Troy setup with the suitor trio and Dracula gunning for her first once he hits England. Most people know the Francis Ford Coppola version which not only distills a lot of her and similar damsels’ treatments in Dracula flicks, but also specifically includes…a lot.

Like this:

It happens for a whole blink, and is never mentioned again or returned to as any kind of meaningful romantic relationship beyond, ‘Lucy hot, Lucy gets around, Lucy makes out with everyone, lol.’ It also includes, and very much highlights, this:

TW: Sexual assault/implied rape/impaired consent

Yeah. That’s Dracula, halfway out of his wolf form. Doing that.

This is followed by her swooning away in bed, becoming more vampy (in both senses) and so forth. Is she still a victim? Yes. But the framework of it has been entirely distorted. She’s the Whore to Mina’s (Marriable! She’s the brainy brunette destined to be with Dracula!) Madonna.

“She was susceptible to Dracula’s seduction because she was already the hot/promiscuous one! It was practically a monsterfucker meet-cute, guys!” –Francis, probably

Then we turn to today’s entry. Hell, the past couple entries in which Dracula’s been zeroing in on Lucy. He abused her sleepwalking, yes, but ultimately resorts to visits, stalking, and—as with today—idly playing with his food by sitting in plain view, watching her watch him, knowing how her mind is struggling between the sleeping trance and the innate dread.

(I know those eyes. I know them. I know him. I fear him. Why?)

This girl, barely nineteen, has been made a target. She has a pliable medical condition being used against her, like pulling a puppet by its strings. She can’t not sleep. She can’t avoid his tugging at her. No more than she can hide from him now that he’s tracked her back to the home she’s sharing with Mina and her mother. And yet, for now, what does Dracula do?

He toys with her. Just a bat at the window. Just a little taste, dear. Back to bed now, I’ll see you tomorrow. And the day after that. And the day after that. Because I can.

There’s no bodice ripping, no overt sexual assault, but the violation remains intact. Along with a far more palpable helplessness. Mina won’t be there to guard her forever or keep the room all shut up against Dracula’s visits. (No spoilers for future chapters, but suffice to say, the Count does not suffer being rebuffed very well or very long. Shit gets intense. Wait and see.)

We saw with the Demeter how Dracula behaves when it’s just a matter of gluttony with victims he has no interest in beyond casual cruelty. Kill, toss, kill, toss. It’s nothing to him.

Willing Lucy to open the window so he can drop the bat form, become himself, and get far more visceral in his playtime would also be nothing. But in Lucy’s case, as with Jonathan’s, when Dracula decides to take a true interest in a victim, he not only likes to savor the game, he prefers psychological torture. Especially with characters established as 24K sweethearts. (Sorry, Lucy. Sorry, Jonathan. Sorry, Mina.)

Right now? Lucy’s just barely at the start of her nightmare. And the most tactile the Count has been with her, period, is a couple nibbles. Everything else is down to the slowly shrinking noose of the situation she’s in. She doesn’t know that yet. Neither does Mina. Mild spoilers, there’s a period coming up where everyone will sigh with relief. They aren’t living in Whitby, after all. They’re on holiday. They’ll leave. Lucy will get better. All is well.

…Until Dracula gets moving too. Back to bloody business. And the volume gets cranked up past 11.

Now let’s swivel to the bizarre (if not unexpected) character flip of Jonathan and Mina’s situations. It’s been gone over a dozen times now just how screwed Jonathan Harker is in every adaptation. He’s either practically nonexistent or transformed beyond recognition into a walking snore. Explicitly ignoring the two months he spent as a captive with Dracula in one-on-one castle time. Canonically, this man spends the most time with Dracula in the entire book. His story could be its own book! Its own movie! And yes, Dracula gives some bullshit excuses about ‘learning how to speak like an Englishman,’ but the core of it was just…he wanted to.

He wanted to keep Mr. Harker in that big stone box with him, just to play mind games, savor that solicitor flavor, then pass him off to the Brides as a present before, presumably, forcing him to turn and join the undead girl gang. And while past directors have loved the idea of a trio of sexy voluptuous vampire babes pawing at a man and each other, that appears to be literally the only purpose Jonathan ever gets within a show/movie. Everything else gets scraped off.

They harvested his devotion to Mina and gave it to Dracula.

They harvested his fucked up Beauty and the Beast-style plush and predatory imprisonment—here, enjoy a cigar, some fine dining, a pretty room, lots of books, nonconsensual touching, being forced to lie to your loved ones, the cannibalization of two children, a woman eaten alive by wolves, knowing your own death date (Which won’t get you out of this castle! You’re here forever! We saved a coffin for you, buddy!), and all the Evil Monster Man Seeks Virtuous Damsel bells and whistles—and gave it to Mina.

Because if they kept to the book that’d look too Ell Gee Bee Tee. And not even in the hot unfulfilled lesbian way! Can’t have that. Nope, we’ll just hand all the creepy-amorous hospitality stuff to Mina.

And oh God. Mina. Poor, poor Mina.

The travesty of what gets done to her character in so many adaptations. She ranges from Classic Bland-Pretty Damsel to Miraculously Sensual-Spiritually Awakened Dracula-Wife (Not a sultry harem Bride, though! That’s for Lucy and the trio of sexy whats-her-faces in Transylvania. Who Dracula always seems to have no matter how romantic and suave he’s being. Can’t drop those standby chicks even for a reincarnation love story, eh, Francis?). We’ll see later how vital she is to the plot and tackling the problem of Dracula.

A problem she will be extremely vehement about destroying, considering the fact that this undead bastard is responsible for tormenting the two most important people in her life, in ways that are intended to terrify, convert, and low-key enslave the victims to a damned eternity. Once she’s clued in to all Dracula has done, our girl’s going to be livid and instrumental to helping the Vampire Hunter Gang in taking him down. But who needs that!?

Just have her go ‘Eek!’ or swoon into Count Fuckula’s manly liberated embrace!

Which really does sum up all of these characters’ crappy deals in media.

Lucy Westenra? Having a nuanced and increasingly horrifying ordeal situated on having a supernatural stalker walking you around like a windup toy in your sleep and preying on you in a fashion meant to ultimately destroy your happiness and humanity so you can join his undead sexdoll collection?

Who needs that!? Make her a redheaded Lilith caricature who barely needs a nudge to give it up to her sexy wolfman-monster-master! She’s the side chick anyway, who cares? :)

Jonathan Harker? Being the character who spends the most time of anyone in close proximity with the Count, the only one to share multiple conversations with him, gets forced into the damsel-in-distress role while Dracula and his Brides make sexually-coded predatory moves on him, gets traumatized by the death and horror he witnessed in the castle he barely escaped, all saturated with the driving force behind his determination being his love for Mina from start to finish?

Who needs that!? Just turn him into a stuffy English scarecrow who gets felt up by the Brides and then we can forget about him. Get that homoerotic shit out of here, we don’t need to see that. Oh, but keep that ‘Loving Mina to the Point of Corruption’ stuff—we can save that for Dracula. :) :)

Mina Murray? One of the earliest examples of intelligent and capable women in all of literature, let alone gothic literature, taking an active role in pursuing Dracula and being exactly as passionately in love with Jonathan Harker as he is with her, said love for him and Lucy being what drives her to participate in a hunt for a monster who wields the threat of not just death, but an infinite horror of existence, a fiend she loathes as much as fears?

Who needs that!? Slap a corset on her, heave up those breasts, and let’s make us a fine Victorian final girl for the Count to woo with his sexy badass vampire charisma. :) :) :)

Fuck :) you, :) Francis. :) And every book-bastardizing director like you :) :) :)

If someone wanted to do a real, fresh and, (yes!) romantic take on Dracula, I think the key would sit with two things.

One: Leaning into the healthy unconventional romantic relationships as much as highlighting the unhealthy/predatory undertones Dracula and the Brides bring to the table. It is possible, even while staying period-accurate.

Lucy can still accept Art’s proposal. But maybe point out that he, out of all the suitors, has the best financial arrangement—and that she and all the suitors basically stealth-conferred with each other. She, Art, and Quincey (Sorry, Seward, you came on too strong, too fast, too weird. Please reapply next year with a new polycule resume, sir.) are a throuple in as close a way as they can manage with Arthur ‘Son of a Lord’ Holmwood basically planning to set up a lifestyle in which they can all still remain together.

Hell, the Suitor Squad should have their own hints and confirmations among each other. Lucy might just be the latest addition to their group, who knows? Play with healthy large-scale LGBT and poly romances! Pool’s open!

Lucy and Mina? Lucy and Mina. In their case, I picture a somewhat past-tense romance, riding in tandem with Mina and Jonathan’s relationship, but open to renewing once all is settled with Mina and Jonathan’s wedding. We’ll say Mina has an open invite, Jonathan too.

Let Jonathan and Mina have the Most Intense Bi4Bi Gothic Romance of All Time the book explicitly lays out for them in coming chapters. They are sweethearts. They have been in love since childhood. They would die and kill for each other. (Yes, that is foreshadowing. Brace yourself, first-time readers.)

Let Jonathan flex his asexual/biromantic horizons. We all read into the ‘thing’ with him and Dracula, and even the hypnosis of the Brides—zero interest in reciprocating/invitation on his part. But if upcoming chapters are any indication, he’ll be firing sparks off with Quincey. Mild spoiler, they have a mutual love of knives! Fun! (Bigger spoiler, Seward, that repressed little bug of a man, is going to start having Thoughts once Jonathan enters the scene. You’ll know when you read it.)

Yes, vampiric and general monster media is often used as a vehicle to explore (or, sadly, demonize/fetishize) the Other. Carmilla did it with lesbians, Dracula does it with—gasp!—a male monster preying on/damselifying another man, the sultry and powerful women being monsters, and with the ‘evils’ of polyamory (No, not just the Bride harem thing. There’s a bit about blood transfusions that takes a unique turn. Again, you’ll know when you read it. Ugh.).

A new adaptation would win a lot of points in depicting all the positive reflections of non-heteronormative relationships and the heart of the last lap of the book, which is a group of good and valiant people taking on a dangerous task for others, and, I cannot overstate this enough, Jonathan and Mina’s love story.*

*Which I’ve mentioned before, could have taken a very spicy and sinister turn in and of itself. If any darkfic-loving directors out there want to take a chance…well. You know what to do with that kukri blade.

Two: Break the story up into three acts!

1. Jonathan—The two months in Castle Dracula.

2. Lucy—The perils of being Dracula’s first ‘special interest’ victim in England.

3. Mina—Everything coming to a big, grisly, race-to-the-finish crescendo.

If you want to add extra salt to the wound, have a prelude and/or interspersed highlights of the fact that, according to the text and its implications, Mina, Jonathan, and Lucy have been friends since they were little kids. Yes, really.

Three friends who have known and loved each other all their lives, all on the verge of their respective happily ever afters, attacked and tormented one after the other by the same immortal sadist. That’s a horror story.

Like it’s supposed to be, FRANCIS.

tl;dr: I respect a good monsterfucker narrative, but Dracula is absolutely NOT THAT STORY. It is horror, and it deserves to be portrayed as such. There’s a whole other essay in how absolutely unrecognizable Dracula himself is in so many media depictions, turning him from a formidable and horrifying entity into ‘Heehee Hoohoo Sultry Vampire Man, give me your love bite~~~.’ They pulled his fangs out and made him into a Ken doll. But that’s a ramble for another time.

#Francis meet me in the pit #lucy westenra #mina murray #mina harker #jonathan harker #dracula #dracula daily #adaptation #bastardization #francis ford coppola #(he is not the only director to do his shit but his is the most well-known/damning/influencing example)#rant rant ramble ramble #dracula spoilers

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thegoatsongs · 2 years

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mina murray about dracula according to adaptations: “oh dracula is so... sexy... and i’m so very tempted by his allure... the thread of fate has us bound together throughout lifetimes...”

mina about dracula in the actual book:

#dracula daily #dracula #mina murray #mina harker #francis ford coppola meet me at the pit

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meatriarchived · 8 months

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i think in terms of strength and just, overall knowledge of fighting / being defensive and all, francis actually may have a pretty high advantage when it comes to taking on really any of the family. he's used to the dirty tricks - and we know the family loves to play them - so. as kinda dumb as my boi can be at times? he doesn't so easily fall for feigned kindness, nor does he let his guard down around those he doesn't know. hell, he's even still on guard around the other victims - esp when it comes to anything to do with zoey.

like i doubt when if comes to bubba / thomas he's able to keep them occupied for very long of course. esp not with thomas. but, i do see him being able to hold his own in a tussle with them, and in turn he's capable of hitting them pretty fucking hard = which probably isn't too common for the two.

but yeah, francis is a tank, and enjoys the thrill of a good beatdown so, he's willing to be an easy distraction for the others if need be - so long as they help in turn by keeping an eye on zoey for him.

#[ f ] ── * 𝐇𝐂 / 𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐄. { francis. }#francis probably : meet me in the g.ore pit you rancid ugly fucker- bsdajhfgk

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cosmic-crybaby · 11 months

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Blue Skies - Tommy Shelby

Chapter 13: ‘You Can Do No Wrong’

Warning in this chapter: You finally meet the Shelby family, and come face to face with Polly Grey herself.

Masterlist:

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The Shelby family always knew how to throw a proper party.

You recall that it was a family party, but you knew that meant anyone who was in close ties with the Shelby family. Nevertheless, you felt the pressure already building. The dread of intimidation and the increasing fretful pit in your gut forming with only the thought of what they might think of you. When he first proposed his idea of the party, you hesitated even attending. Fearing that his family would show the most hostility to you and your ‘broken; family since you were not married and you were pregnant with his child. But, even with the storms of scenarios that ran through your mind, Thomas made sure to clear the clouds and reassure you that his family did not give a single fuck if you were married or not yet.

‘I call the shots, okay? No ones going to fuck with you if you are with me,’

He had told you while he held you in his arms. His words made you feel only the slightest bit less anxious. The party was in celebration of their business finally taking off, which brought your stress and worries even higher. You wanted everything to be perfect.

“B-but I don’t have a dress to wear, the kids need new formal clothes, the cooks still haven’t bought the meat for the main course and-” You rambled. You and Thomas both knew you had plenty of dresses to wear, but you felt as though none of them were good enough. Each one didn’t fit the way you wanted, or didn’t match the jewelry you had planned on dawning.

“Sweetheart, please...: He held your heated face in his cold and rough hands. Taking a deep breath with you. “Don’t worry about that...I will have everything taken care of, when I get home tonight I’ll buy you a new dress and some clothes for the kids...okay?” You only looked at him, gathering your thoughts.

“And I’ll make sure Francis has everything ready...Please, I want them to meet you,”

You nod. Reluctantly agreeing.

The day of the event came quickly.

With each passing hour and the closer you were to completing your appearance, the more the realization began to creep up on you. You stood there in your shared master bedroom, giving yourself one last look over of yourself in the mirror. The deep blue dress was heavy with the beaded detailing but hugged your body in just the right way. It was especially comfortable around your midsection. Your neck was decorated with the jewelry that reflected under the dim lighting. Exhaling, you run your hands down your sides to smooth out any wrinkles in the dress. A timid knock at the door caused you to jump a bit.

“Ms. (L/n), the guests are arriving,” Francis stated from behind the heavy wooden door.

“Thank you Francis, I’ll be out in just a moment,” You had called back. Taking a deep breath once again and fixing any stray hairs before turning to open the door. Laughter had echoed through the house as you closed the bedroom door behind you.

“They will be gathering in the drawing room,” She told you once you reached the bottom of the stairs. You nod once again, thanking her with a smile as you walk to the open doors. Peering in to see just how many people were attending. Your eyes had scanned the room for anyone familiar, as most of the people who were there were people you had never seen before. Elizabeth and Henry were talking to two other boys around Elizabeth's age as they sat around a chess board on the small table. John and Esme were attempting to calm down and round of their own children as they wondered and ran around the room with Johnny Doggs’ flock of kids. You made an effort in getting to know everyone’s names that were attending beforehand, making sure you didn’t make any mistakes when meeting them. There were only a few you could point out. Uncle Charlie, Curly, and Johnny Doggs were in one corner. Sitting on the couch next to your children was the second youngest Shelby sibling, Ada. The brunette was speaking to one of the boys, which you only assumed was her son Karl. Across from her was Linda Shelby, Arthurs God-devoted wife. She watched the other boy carefully, her son Billy, as he was introducing himself to Elizabeth and Henry. Your eyes scanned some more. Beside Thomas was Arthur himself, speaking quietly but yet his gruff voice still carried throughout the room. Then there was Aunt Polly, who sat in one of the chairs as she smoked a cigarette with elegance and grace as her son, Michael, stood beside her as he talked with Finn, the youngest Shelby sibling.

Shaking slightly as you squeezed your hands together. When you had fully entered the room, you held your head down a bit and laid your hands one over the other. Gracing them with your very presence, the room almost went silent. You had only glanced up when you felt Thomas stand beside you, clearing his throat as he held a hand out for you to take to join his side. Handsome as ever in his suit. You walked to him, taking a few strides to interlock your hand with his.

“Everyone,” He started. “This won’t take long, I figured there will be no better place to introduce this amazing woman by my side, rather than tonight,” He looked at the guests scattered around the room.

“Throw her to the wolves, why don’t you,” Polly was the first to comment through the silence, a scoff and a snicker following her words. “Pol...” Thomas sent her a warning glance. His patience wore thin and you couldn’t help but hide a giggle and pat his chest gently. ‘Relax darling’ You mutter to him. He takes a deep breath before he finally was able to introduce you, you earned a small round if applause and some whistling when he revealed that you were expecting.

“You might want to relax Tommy, it seems like you’re the one who’s pregnant,” His sister, Ada, joked as she approached you with a smile. You chuckled as he let out an exasperated sigh.

“Ada... ” He spoke. If she didn’t say anything, you wouldn’t have noticed how stressed he looked. But, the slightest bit of tone changed in him when he introduced you to his sister.

“This is (Y/n), (Y/n) this is-”

“Ada Thorne, his sister,” She interrupted as she held your hands in hers. She seemed the calmer, pleasant sibling out of the bunch, but you knew looks were deceiving when it came to Shelby women.

“Ada, it is so nice to finally meet you,” You smiled happily, feeling yourself instantly become more comfortable. “Oh I hope my children aren’t causing too much trouble for you?” You said, glancing at the four children playing games and entertaining each other.

“Oh? Those two are yours?” She asked. You hum and nod. “Oh of course not, they’re absolute angels!” You humbly smiled at her.

“They get along so well with Karl, you should consider letting them come over once in a while, Karl does need more friends his age and he seems to enjoy being around them,” She explained. You raised your brows in slight surprise.

“I- yes, yes that would be nice, they have many activities outside of school but how about this upcoming weekend?” You asked.

“Sounds perfect to me, I’ll have Tommy bring em over,” She winked. Before you could continue the conversation John then came up to give you a tight hug as he greeted you.

“Oh, John it’s so good to see you,” You laughed, he let you go as he looked down at you, holding your hands.

“Look at you, (Y/n) You look amazing, absolutely glowin’' Tommy rolled his eyes as he tried to get his younger brother away from you. You chuckled before looking off to the side where Esme stood. She stood a few feet away with her arms crossed. You attempted to give her a small wave, which she ignored and with a glare and a quick swig of alcohol, she walked off to find her husband.

You nod once and look up at Thomas as he returns to your side, placing his hand on your shoulders and giving them a reassuring squeeze, letting you know that you were doing just fine.

Better than himself.

After getting introduced to the rest of the guests, and Tommy's younger brother taking a noticeable liking to you, you were finally left to meet his aunt.

“It’s very nice to finally meet you, (Y/n)” She gave you a sharp smile as she held her hand out to you. You held her hand in yours as you shook her gloved hand.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you as well, Polly,” You smiled, feeling the blush rise to your face once you noticed Thomas wasn’t standing behind you like he was just a moment ago, instead he was jokingly roughing up Finn with John and Arthur. You turned to look back at Polly and chuckled nervously.

“May I?” She asked as she motioned for your stomach.

“Oh, no of course…Everyone seems to find joy in touching it these days,” You commented light-heartedly as she took a small breath and held her hands on your clothed stomach before looking up at you with a faltering smile.

“She’ll be a beautiful baby,” She told you with a calm voice.

“She?” You repeated. She nodded with a hum.

“You should name her ‘Evelyn’, she’ll be just as talented as her family,,” She told you confidently as you both glanced at your children as you overheard Elizabeth telling Ada and Linda about her part in the ballet and Henry telling them how he wanted to play in the orchestra when he gets older. Your heart swelled as you swallowed the lump in your throat. You looked back at Polly Gray.

“It’ll be a beautiful name in lights, don’t you think?” She smirked at you. You nodded.

‘Evelyn Shelby’

‘Evelyn (L/n)’

You thought, but deciding to keep your thoughts to yourself, in fear of offending anyone around you with the last name Shelby.

“I hope my nephew is behaving himself,” She arched an eyebrow at you.

“He is,” Your mind then wandered to the day you found out about Lizzie, and you wondered if he was still seeing her behind your back. but you quickly shook the suspicion away. “Since I’ve moved in, he’s been nothing but supportive and generous to my family…not to mention helpful with our little one coming soon,” It was only a little exaggerated, he was helpful and caring but sometimes you were lonely on those long days he was gone at work.

“How far are you?” She asked.

“A little over 21 weeks now,” You told her. She hummed.

“And how have you been running that bakery all on your own?”

It caught you off guard, you didn’t think she would know your career but you only assumed Thomas had probably mentioned it at some point, but then again why would he?

“Oh I’ve been just fine, it’s been a little difficult since I’ve gotten bigger but I’ll manage,” You shrug.

“And you prefer it that way? If not we are more than happy to provide some help for you until the baby comes,” She showed her concern.

“My mother did the same with me, I’m just following tradition, and I can’t bare parting from something I love doing everyday but when the time comes I promise I will get help,”

You hear a scoff from your right, as you see Esme roll her eyes and walk out of the room.

It wasn’t much longer until you were sitting at the dining table, Arthur pulling your chair for you since he was sitting next to you. It was the gentleman thing to do. Especially after Linda scolded him for not offering you, a pregnant woman, a seat in the first place.

“Thank you Arthur,” You gratefully smiled as you sat down in the chair, the pressure and pinching in your back slowly easing the more you rested in the cushioned chair. Tommy stood at the head of the table beside you as John sat across from you with Esme beside him. Her dark eyes barely shared a glare at you, but you were too busy noticing that the dining room was filled with chatting from all ends. You had never seen it so full and busy before, it suddenly made the room seem so much smaller than its actual grand size.

Tommy stood up, clearing his throat once again. Thanking his family and friends for joining and for the success of their company taking off after they started off from nothing but a small betting shop in Small Heath. At the end of his speech, everyone held up their drinks and cheered happily before dinner was officially served. The many conversations and loud talking threw you in a spin as they were asking you questions, trying to get to know you. You shared laughs with his siblings, which seemed to ease your tension as well as Tommy’s as he watched you smile and crack jokes. It was enough to make him feel confident in his relationship with you. It solidified his feelings for you and that you were in fact the one for him.

After dessert was finished, they were serving drinks in the drawing room once again. You took this chance to break away from the crowds and take a breather outside on the patio. You let out a small relaxed sigh from your nose as you felt the cool air hit your hot skin.

“Needed a break?” A smooth voice asked behind you. You turned to see Polly, watching in silence as she took a few steps to stand beside you, lighting a cigarette. You hastily shook your head when she offered you one from her cigarette case. She blew the smoke up towards the night sky.

“Are you using my nephew?” She asked. Her voice sounded so different from before. Her voice was deeper, calmer, yet intimidating. It made you shift a bit, having your loyalties questioned and being interrogated after the hectic night you had already endured.

“No…” You answered calmly, you only faced her again when she asked you another question.

“Did you get pregnant on purpose?” This time her tone was a bit more harsh. Then it finally clicked, she was asking all those questions before dinner to get some kind of answers out of you.

“It was purely a coincidence…I never planned on getting pregnant again, at least until I remarried,” You explained.

“You’re much younger than him and you already have two children to support on your own and you run a bakery all by yourself…kind of hard not to believe you don’t want something out of this relationship with him…Thomas is not the smartest when it comes to beautiful women,” She shook her head in disbelief. “Surely you must want something from him,”

You chuckled.

“I don’t need a man to get what I want…I am more than capable of getting what I desire on my own and I don’t need your nephews money to get it either,” You answered. “I don’t blame you for suspecting me of ill intentions…Anyone in their right mind would have some questions about a young woman starting a relationship with the front man of the Peaky Blinders, but there was a silver lining that got us to where we are today…”

You sighed, preparing your words carefully.

“I thought long and hard, if I wanted to keep her or not just for the sake of saving our careers and reputations but that small sliver of hope is what made us work it out in the end, and trust me I made this decision myself,”

She stared at you for a moment before slowly putting the cigarette to her lips. Tapping the ash into a glass tray.

“And did you know about Lizzie while you were fucking him?” She asked, a sly smirk slowly forming on her face, thinking she caught you. You swallow the words you were about to shout in defense.

“No...I left him when I found out that he had lied to me...to both of us,”

She hums. “And you still went back to him?” She questioned.

“What can I say? I adore him,” You answered honestly.

She stood close to you, holding one of your hands.

“I like you (Y/n), but trust me when I say this family is dangerous…we get ourselves into a lot of shit and I don’t want to see you and your family in the middle of the crossfire if Thomas fucks up,” You nodded in understanding.

“I know Polly…I intend to do right by your nephew,” You told her, looking into her eyes. She smiled slightly, creating small creases by her eyes, suddenly making her look warm and comforting.

“I know you will sweetheart, after all that he’s been through he needs a good woman by his side, don’t let him fuck it up,” She finished her cigarette and placing a hand on your cheek before she walked away to rejoin her family inside.

You let out the breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Relieved that you finally got through the much anticipated and dreaded family dinner, but still reeling from all of the pointed questions, scoffs and glares from Esme, suspicions of your intentions, and judgmental thoughts of your relationship with Thomas.

A small tear spilling from your eyes as the realization hit you.

The realization that you loved him.

More than you could ever imagine.

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saints-who-never-existed · 8 months

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Rereading The Terror

Chapter Thirty: Crozier

Now that Crozier's successfully sobered up, it's time for a command meeting to decide the next course of action.

First off, and breaking my heart, is a mention that Jopson is in the sickbay already showing signs of scurvy. I've annotated this with a sad face and the phrase 'very much not Jopping' for reasons unknown even to myself.

The whole gang's there, Terrors and Erebites, and the long and short of it is that Erebus is fucked. Terror is faring a bit better but still isn't great. We get Peglar's input on the subject - he and the other Captain of the Foretop are the only petty officers there. Two things strike me about his little passage:

Firstly, that he uses the word "catty-wampus" which just feels horrendously American and anachronistic to me - 0/10 don't like.

Secondly, that Crozier refers to him by his first name one minute, then returns to formality the next - ?/10 like and am intrigued by.

A definite 10/10 for me though is the touch of sass from Little that we get right afterwards and, best of all, it's directed at Le Vesconte: ""But there have been sightings," said Lieutenant Le Vesconte. "Something large moving among the seracs. And men on watch hear things in the dark." ""Men in watch at sea have always heard things in the dark," said Lieutenant Little. "Going back to the Greeks." Like, yass, this Ned did not come to fucking play, Dundy...!

Full marks also for Crozier's lovely little epiphany in the face of all the negativity that abounds in the room: "...Crozier found a strange, hot, pure flame burning in his chest. It was a sensation rather like a first sip of whisky after days without it, but also nothing at all like that." "Crozier wanted to live. It was that simple. He was determined to life. He was going to survive this bad patch in the face of all odds and gods dictating that he would not and could not. This fire in his chest had been there even in the shaky, sick hours and painful days after he had emerged from the pit of his malaria-and-withdrawal brush with death in early January. The flame grew stronger every day."

And fuller marks still to dear Bridgens, who goes out on a limb and suggests a march to the cache of stores at Fury Beach. Not necessarily because it's a good plan - it's no better or worse than anything else they've come up with and Crozier doesn't take him on in any case, is irritated by him even. But because of this clap-back: "Crozier sighed. "Are you in the habit of thinking like the Admiralty, Subordinate Officers' Steward Bridgens?" [Such a condescending little twat you are, Francis] ""Sometimes, yes," said the old man. "It's a habit of decades, Captain Crozier. After a while proximity to fools forces one to think like a fool."

#The Terror #The Terror AMC #Observations #Random Observations #Meta #Rereading The Terror #Terror Spoilers #Francis Crozier #Harry Peglar #John Bridgens #Edward Little #Henry Le Vesconte

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sunflowersoldat · 2 years

Text

All is Fair~ In Faith & Falsehoods

Chapter 12: All is Fair in Faith & Falsehoods

Previous Chapter

Main Master List

Series Master List

Series Summary: Family is important, but so is the Family business. Everyone has secrets, some are deadly. Your the best in the business, but no one knows who you are. Tensions are high, will you raise the stakes or fold under pressure?

Series Warnings: 18+! Mentions of blood and violence, bad language words, smut, manipulation, gaslighting, death, trauma, please follow the warnings for each chapter.

Chapter warnings: 18+ Only! violence and threats. Emotional trauma, Bad language words, torture, mentions of death and extreme violence!

Pairing: Mob!Steve x Assassin!Stark!reader

Word count: approx. 3.3K

A/N: IT'S BACK! …. Don’t come for me. I really hope y'all enjoy it! feedback is always welcome, let me know your favorite part.

Jake watched his target, like he had been for over a month now, he needed to find the flaw in their security, for them to let their guard down, just long enough to grab what he needed. But their security was airtight, not a speck of dust crossed any of them without being vetted first. It was infuriating to say the least.

What would Muerta do?

He scoffed, it was foolish of him, but he missed you, your snarky mouth, your sometimes irrational decision making, your all around ‘don’t give a shit’ attitude…

Mostly… mostly he just missed you, your friendship. He could tell Steven felt the same, it had been so long since he let anyone else be in control, Marc was only useful to a fault, Steven got him closer to you. He learned to understand you, to peel off the masks you wore so easily…

He shook his head, something isn't adding up, you wanted out, in fact you almost blatantly told him you were going rouge… what changed, what happened in the twenty-four hours after you left him? How the fuck did you get caught in a trap, it just didn’t–

His phone buzzing in his pocket pulled his attention down, the little screen lit-up with Wade’s face, he rolled his eyes, the fuck does he want.

“Speak.”

“Well good morning to you too, Cupcake.”

Jake sighed heavily, “Wade…”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll get to the point… I found Francis.”

“Wade, I don’t care about your little obsession–” he growled.

“You will when I tell you, the assholes that Смерт (smert, death) is after and Francis are one and the same.”

A knowing smile split Jake’s lips, “You broke into the phone.”

Jake could hear the smugness leaking from Wade’s voice, “I broke into the phone.”

—

Steve stared down at you strapped to the chair in his basement, broken, bloody, it took everything in him not to nurture you, to cut your ties and embrace you. But, he had to remember who you were, a vile, lying, backstabbing, traitor.

Pure rage blinded him as he shoved the barrel of his pistol under your chin

'Do it, Rogers. Because if I get out of here. I Will. Kill. You.'

That was it, the sentence that pushed him over the edge as he shoved the barrel of his gun under your chin, he half expected you to crumble, to tell him you didn't mean any of it… But all he saw was the look in your eye, yes there was fear which cut him deeply, he never wanted you to fear him. But on top of that, you wanted him to kill you, with every fiber in your being, he could feel you urging him to pull the trigger.

A knock on his office door pulled him from his thoughts, the last flicker of the memory of your face faded as he picked up his glass and he called to the door. The pit in his stomach yawned open as his eyes met your nameplate still sitting on his desk. He downed the rest of his drink, making his way to the bar for a refill as the door opened slowly, Bucky’s metal hand emerged first, followed by Peter.

“You ready Punk?”

Steve grunts as he lifts the glass to his lips, Peter speaks, “Mr. Stark sent Happy to pick us up…”

“I still think this is a stupid fucking idea. Especially after…”

“After I killed his sister?” his gaze meets Peter first, head downcast, avoiding his gaze, then he meets Bucky’s, there is more emotion there than he would ever admit, what Steve had to do that night, didn’t just affect him. It cut deep into his found family, but it tore out his soul. “It was business Bucky, Tony will understand that.” Steve waved his hand in dismissal, “Tell Happy we will be there soon and won't need his services... I’ll meet you downstairs.”

Both men started to leave, “Not you Queens, I need to speak with you.”

Bucky and Peter shared a look, before Bucky left, closing the door behind him, Peter turned to face Steve, their eyes finally meeting. Steve knew Peter was upset about you being gone, but the look he was pinning him with right now made him proud. If Steve would have been a different person, not his boss, the look would be threatening, but Steve knew better, Peter could be angry all he wanted, but he would never do anything to Steve.

‘I don't experiment on children.’

The words you’d spat at him echoed through his bones, he didn’t quite understand why you had said it at the time, but a memory had snagged his attention. He motioned to the wingback chair in front of his desk, “Sit.”

Slowly Peter made his way into the chair, Steve followed, leaning against the front of his desk. Peter wasn’t big by any means, but he wasn’t scrawny, he was built well, lean and strong, no hulking muscle to slow him down, he was quick, deadly, when it was necessary.

“How are you feeling kid?”

Peter blinked, clearly not expecting the question, “Sir?”

Steve huffed in amusement, one side of his mouth lifting, “It’s been a while since we had a moment to speak, kid. Not too long ago you were beaten half to death, how are you holding up?”

I hadn't been that long ago in all reality, but there weren't many scratches left on the kid, which further aided the point you made in the basement. His stomach churned, fuck.

“I…I’m good sir, thank you for asking?”

Steve watched as Peter began to fidget, “What were you doing at the lab, Queens.”

His brow furrowed, “Wha-what?”

Steve sighed, “The night Erskine was killed. You were at the lab, why?”

Peter's eyes widened only slightly, “I… I was on patrol.”

Steve pursed his lips, nodding, “Okay.”

Peter stood from his seat, head shaking, words tumbling from his mouth, “Mr. Rogers… I-I would never betray you…I had no idea—”

Steve shook his head, “Queens…” but Peter wasn’t listening, he continued to ramble about you and Erskine, but Steve knew he hadn’t helped you. But he was still lying. He gripped his arms, “Queens.”

Peter froze under his grip, Steve led him back to his seat, “I know you didn’t help her, kid…” he eased his grip, but his hands remained, Steve knelt in front of him, his eyes met Peter’s, “But I also know you weren't on patrol. I need you to tell me the truth…”

—

Steve had rolled his sleeves, exposing his forearms, along with the tattoos that adorned them, lady justice spattered with fresh blood, the man in front of him stared up at him, wide-eyed, shaking.

He was a blubbering mess, tears streamed down his face, mingling with the blood and drool, Steve had even noticed a wet spot in the crotch of his trousers, fucking weak. He scoffed to himself as he rolled the knife across his knuckles, his now long hair falling into his face, he raked it back as he stalked closer to the bound man, Colonel Akerly, the closest man linked to Stark and the dealings Parker had mentioned, he didn’t know much, but a name was all Steve needed.

Turns out, Akerly didn't reach the rank of Colonel for his bravery or ability to withstand pain or torture, he sang like a canary.

According to Akerly, Stark made a big deal with the military and Dr. Erskine after Howard died, and Erskine had been testing on street kids. He would have Bucky look farther into the details later. Steve wasn’t just angry at the situation, he was fucking furious, the fact Erskine had been doing the experiments behind Steve’s back was bad enough, Bucky and Steve had been given the first prototypes, but some of the side-effects had been too extreme for Steve to condone the experiments to conitune. Extreme anger, mood swings, an enhanced appetite (not just for food), and enhanced strength; more so than those on steroids.

Steve and Howard had fought the night Howard died, Howard thought the risks were worth it in the long run, ‘think of all the good it could do Steve’... yeah, ‘good’ he thought, how many people had to endure the pain the treatment put them through, let alone the adverse effects. He was still reeling from Peter’s apology, ‘I’m sorry Steve… I… I just get so tired of being beaten and having…. Having everyone save me all the time.’

Fuck! His blood was boiling, how the hell he hadn’t seen the signs he didn’t know, but thinking about it just pushed his blood past the boiling point–

“Steve, Tony is still waiting on you… the longer you make him wait–”

Steve raised his knife clad hand, silencing Bucky.

He struck hard and fast, he could barely feel the splitting flesh beneath the blade, the gargled screams seemed far away and muffled through the blood roaring in his ears. When he finally stepped away from Akerly, he didn't recognize him, and neither would the police. Carter would have a field day cleaning this mess. He would be sure to give her the tipoff after he was sure his men were off site, and couldn't be tracked down. He wiped his face with his sleeve, the white shirt now stained pink and red, and coated in sweat, he would have to change before meeting Tony now.

With his anger simmering beneath the surface, he could trust himself not to skin Tony at the table, he had rolled his eyes when he found out they were meeting at an upscale Italian restaurant. A very public place, Steve smiled to himself, he had to admit, after what he had done to you, he didn't blame Tony for the precision, the man wasn’t a total moron.

—

“Rogers.” Tony’s voice cut through the restaurant, as Steve settled in the booth across from him, “You think you kept me waiting long enough?”

“I think you picked a ridiculous place for a meeting.” he chuckled a bit. To everyone else in the restaurant, they looked like two chummy businessmen having a meeting but the air around them felt electrified; Tony was pissed, Steve could feel it.

Good, he thought. He was equally as pissed.

Tony gave him a knowing smile, shrugging his shoulders as he gestured around the room, his voice low, “It’s hard to kill someone and get away with it in a public setting.” he made a show of picking lint off his shoulder allowing the fake lint to ‘fall’ to the ground. “It’s a shame the rest of my family wasn’t as smart.”

Steve ignored the jab that was clearly about you, and changed the subject, “How’s business Tony? I heard you made a nice deal with the military–”

Tony cleared his throat, “Business is good… good.” He reached for a breadstick in the center of the table, breaking a piece off, “Yeah, the military contacted me for a few pieces of tech, easy stuff.”

Steve’s lips curled knowingly, Akerly had been telling the truth, what else had Stark been up to?

Steve remained silent as he watched Tony, dipping his bread in the vinaigrette, but out of the corner of his eyes he scanned the room, Tony may have picked a public place, but there was no telling how many of the employees here or even patrons were in his pocket, he always had to look for what no one else prepared for. And he was a sitting duck in this restaurant, one well placed waiter with a knife, or a suppressed pistol… No. Tony wasn’t that depserate or idiotic, Steve’s men would have this place burnt to the ground before Tony could finish him off.

Tony cleared his throat “It’s a shame, you know.”

The waiter stopped by, replacing the old drinks with new ones in front of both men, then promptly left to carry on with his work. Steve took a sip, speaking around his glass, “What is?”

“My sister… She is so much like our mother was, caring, always looking to love those she believed needed it most…” his eyes met Steve’s, he was searching for something, what, Steve didn't know, didn’t care. “She loved you…”

Steve stilled, blood running cold, his drink still ghosting his lips, what the fuck… He scoffed, “Didn't think she was capable, I figured the black hole in her chest ran in the family. ”

“I tried to warn her about you, Beast of Brooklyn…” there was a dangerous glint in Tony’s eye as he spoke, “But she wouldn’t listen, no one ever listens when I speak about you.” Tony’s fingers mindlessly traced the hilt of the steak knife on the table.

Sighing, Steve tilted his head, “you brought me here for a reason Tony, out with it, I’m a busy man, with lots of things to do.”

Tony blew out his breath, the irritation making his features taut, serious, a smirk lifting one corner of his lips, “Listen Steve…” his lips formed a tight line, “I can’t just let you walk away after what you did to my sister–” he made a show with his hands, “if I don't make an example outta you, and hang your head on my wall for everyone to see, they’ll think I’ve gone soft.”

Steve mocked Tony, pouting, “Oh no, we can't have you going soft Tony…”

“Fuck off Rogers.”

Tony’s voice low, full of threat, causing Steve to lean back in his chair, running his tongue over his top teeth, popping one of his brows, “You’re right Tony, it is a shame, people should listen…” he ran a hand over his beard, “I only hope you take your own advice…”

“Watch your back Rogers.”

Steve stood from his seat, “You started this Tony. Sent your sister to me. Her blood is on your hands, not mine.” he snarled, each word laced with venom, watching as his words hit Tony, whose brows furrowed,

“Sent her to you?” a soft laugh left his lips, “If you think I’d send her anywhere near you Rogers you're crazier than they say…”

Buttoning his coat, Steve stared him down, “you wanted me dead, so you sent her. Big mistake Tony.”

“She’s helpless Steve, couldn’t even hurt a fly… If I had wanted you dead, I would have found a way to hire one of the Aces.”

Steve schooled his features, that couldn't be right, Tony didn’t know about his sister? He had to have hired the Ace of Spades, Tony had to be playing him. Steve shook his head as he began to walk away, placing his hand on Tony’s shoulder, “Do not start another war you cannot win. Your sister was only the beginning.”

—

Yelena had been on the road for a few weeks, traveling from place to place, tailing a lead. Zemo had told her this recon mission was important, it was off the record. Now she was stuck in a tree doing a stakeout in upstate New York, the cool mountain air whipped around her in her makeshift perch, looking over a cabin not too far off. Some low level goons came and went every so often, but no one of any notability. She had been tailing a high value target with extremely sensitive cargo…

She scowled, she couldn't understand why Zemo had asked her to come out here, there was nothing here. Scoffing she moved to begin packing her bags, when a new nondescript vehicle slowly pulled up to the cabin. Freezing, she trained her sights on the passenger doors, three people stumbled out of the back doors, bound, gagged, and bruised…

Yelena nearly lost her footing and fell from the tree, no wonder Zemo wanted her here to secure the cargo and sweep these assholes off the face of the earth. They weren’t just any precious cargo… the most precious of all.

Who the fuck and the balls to take them?

His family.

—

Thor walked to his bar, his confident gait grating on Zemo’s nerves,

“How’s the family Halmut, it's been a while since I’ve seen them. Heard they were on vacation?”

Zemo’s jaw clenched, no one knows the truth about his family. No one knows they were taken, or who the moron that thought it would be a good idea was. Not to worry, he had Yelena taking care of it.

He plastered a fake smile onto his face, “They are good, enjoying the sunshine of the Southern Hemisphere; too cold for them here.”

Thor nods, “I can agree with that, the weather has been so dreary lately, it’s a shame really…”

Zemo’s patience had been worn thin, his Ace of Spades was MIA, deemed dead, he hadn’t heard back from Yelena yet, and he really wasn’t in the mood to entertain Thor, or his other appointments for the evening. He cut to the chase, “What can I do for you and your brother Thor?”

Thor looks up from his drink as he sits leisurely in the chair, giving Zemo a gigawatt smile, “I was actually going to ask about your campaign…”

Zemo lifts a brow, “I thought you three didn’t get involved in… politics.”

“Well, since my father passed,” he tosses a side-eyed glare at Loki behind him, who is perusing the bookshelves, “I want to be the one who takes on the responsibilities of The Don. So I need to start acting like one—”

Scoffing Zemo interrupts him, “Well you can make your first duty stopping whatever the hell is going on between the other two! My city is on fire and a burning city won't win a campaign!”

Thor nodded, “Yes, well it seems to be some kind of misunderstanding, don’t worry, I am already working on a solution, it's not only affecting their territories, but mine–”

“Well until that is resolved, I have no further need to speak to you Odinson–”

A tic forms in Thor’s jaw at his words, that obviously wasn’t the response he was expecting. Zemo’s phone rings across the desk, it’s the Ace line, he doesn’t immediately answer it. Allowing it to echo in the room,

“I really do enjoy what you are doing to keep New York clean, Halmut… honestly, the mayors before you… they just weren’t cut out for the job.” A lethal smile slithers across Thor's face as he rests the drink on the arm of his chair. Caressing his beard he motions toward the still ringing phone, “Ya gonna get that there boss?”

Zemo gives a tight lipped smile, “It can wait I’m sure.” Behind Thor, Loki shifts uncomfortably, his eyes flickering to the phone and back to Zemo.

Thor grunts, as he finishes his drink, “Well, your mayorfulness, it’s always a pleasure to do business with you…” he stands, buttoning his jacket and turning to the door. His footsteps loud against the carpet. He turns slightly as he steps out the door, “Perhaps on my next visit, I can give you more of what you desire.”

Loki nods as he follows his brother, throwing one last glance at the still ringing phone, quietly adding as he disappears behind the door, “You should get that.”

Zemo takes a deep breath as the door shuts, then picks up the phone,

“Identity check- All is fair ”

“Response - In death and resurrections.”

The voice that comes from the other line isn’t the one he thought it would be.

A dangerous smile lifts his lips.

Check mate.

@dontbescaredtosingalong @texan-tazzy @tianamontag @daiseychaindisaster @silently-killing-you @buckyfan12 @leyannrae @justlovelifeblog @austynparksandpizza @captainson-of-coul @betareader7 @vicmc624 @bigphattygyal

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jaunefleurwrites · 1 year

Text

Due to changing Damin’s background, I have to rewrite so many parts about them so I have to push the release date somewhere in March. I also wanna add more choices to add more flavor because I feel that is bland. I also wanna add more info regarding about MC’s illness, and how it affects their body (other than dying).

As an apology, I want to share an art spoiler regarding older Damin and a discarded scene from AWWY, the aftermath of chapter 5 after MC realized that they like Damin.

Romanced! Damin snippet

Life throws a curveball in one's most unforeseen occurrences, especially in such unfortunate circumstances as your own. You feel like your body and soul are not your own no longer. You had laid in your bed that night with only three hours of sleep without this restless feeling that has been weighing on you. Your eyes are heavy with dark bags, your face defaulted in a scowling expression that screeches from the morning light. Your mom watches you bump into the edge of furniture for the third time in just five minutes.

You were quite concerning, a $gender in such a dire need, perhaps in need of divine intervention. For you are quite clueless and your mind is muddled up.

You are currently going through such a climacteric period, this has been the most bewildering moment of eighteen years of living. How can you say or think without going through a fit of embarrassment?

Francis looks at you weirdly with a hint of concern as you spasm on the couch as if you were one of those possessed characters in horror films. Blood flows through your cheeks, and you feel warm. You smushed your head on the cushions that muffled your screams. "...Mom, Ted? Do we need to call 911 now?"

"No," Fiona waves her hand. Cautious, she skims through your crisis, it was a scene that she had experienced in her youth, and this time she was the third person at the party. Surprised that you had taken after her in this regard.

Ted gave breathy chuckles nervously, "Your $sibling is going through...puberty?"

"Puberty, really?" deadpans Francis. But he looks at you for the fifth time, his face completely neutral but his mind spins. "So hormones..."

The nurse nods insistingly, "yes hormones..." His explanation in his mind was more detailed and easy but to actually say was a difficult challenge so instead goes whatever his mouth says at that moment.

Francis awkwardly steps away, attempting to run away from whatever this is. "I'm just gonna..."

"Splendid idea." Ted throws the rag on the counter, "I'm coming with you."

Before Fiona could say anything, the boys quickly left in great haste leaving the poor woman to handle this on her own. Gosh, what would Louis do in her place? How will he go at this? She bet it would be easier with him at her side with the "talk" but he isn't, this was something she had to deal with herself and she hopes she won't mess this up. It's a good thing the boys had left, she doesn't want them to see her fail and suck.

—————

"Sooo...." Your mother plops next to you on the couch. She starts rolling her sleeves with a determined fire that sparked. She pats your back before you up to face her, your frown was dazed and lazy. "What's up with you?" She squishes your cheeks between her hands like a sandwich as she prompts you to talk.

"Nothing..."

"Nothing, //eh,//" the woman parrots mockingly. She didn't buy it the moment your eyes didn't meet anything but her own."There are rules in this household and one of them is: ''Do not lie to your mother.'' Clear? So spill."

"Okay..." you suck in a breath once Fiona lets go the hold off you. "I think..."

"Continue."

"I---"

"Yes..."

"I think I---"

"Go on..."

"Yeah, I think I---"

"Uh-huh..."

"//Mom//...put your face away from me." You look at her, your brows drew closer. Groaning you leaned back. Nervous, your butterflies rest in the pit of your stomach. Retracted, new thoughts came into mind forgetting your momentary troubles, you look to face your mother with a question. "Hey, mom."

Her eyes drifted towards you lovingly, she hums a response, "yes?"

"Do you still think about dad?"

Everything came to a pause, the quiet fills the void and the distance. There was nothing but a smile.

"Everyday," Fiona closes the distace and cups your cheeks, tenderly. "I think about him whenever it rains when the sun shines, and every time I look at you and your brother. He left reminders that he was here and he lived. I don't see a world where he never existed."

"Do you think you will find something you had with him?"

"There will be nobody like him, the way I love him will only happen once in my life. To fall for someone new, now that's a different story. How do you love after experiencing such love as I had with him?"

You add, "but not impossible."

"Listen to me $name...don't wait. The six years I had with your father were short and beautiful and I don't regret any minute of it. I don't want you to regret anything, take a chance."

#a world without you #awwy #ch: damin #I cringed at this snippet #that’s why I had cut it out

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juletheghoul · 3 years

Text

Oblivius Chapter 3

So... more pain... yay!

I've become obsessed with these two in a very short time and I decided I'll just put out Chapters as I write them. Enjoy! <3

(Also - conveniently, Tom doesn't exist lmao)

Likes & reblogs are appreciated

Frankie Morales x F!Reader

Pairing: Frankie x F!Reader

Word Count: 1.7K

Warnings: Angst, yearning, 18+ language, (Please let me know if I forget anything)

Masterlist Series Masterlist Part 2

-------

Age: 17

“Hey! Don’t slam the door Spills - you know she’s… delicate.” He patted the dashboard affectionately as you put your seat-belt on - carefully so as not to drop the breakfast you’d brought for both of you. You stared at him incredulously.

“You mean this rustbucket?” You laughed as he carefully pulled out of your driveway.

“Don’t say that about her, she’s perfectly fine.” He turned on the radio and you heard the same song it always played.

“Really Francis? Queen again?” You sighed as you put the buttery half of your bagel into his mouth.

“Okay first of all, this song is amazing and it applies and secondly - the tape is stuck so it’s this or silence.” You could see the smile as he ate happily.

He never said it, but he treasured this time with you. You always gave him half of whatever you made and it always tasted better than anything he ever made himself. It was one of his favourite rituals, the little moment before the school day started. When it was just the two of you, lost in your own world; speaking your own language.

**Present day**

Who the hell is that?

The woman in the reflection wasn’t you, well - she certainly didn’t look like you anyway. She was much to wan - something was weighing her down, heavy on her shoulders. Her eyes were puffy and it looked like she’d been crying.

She was looking back at you, confused - she didn’t recognize herself either.

God I need to shower.

It helped but only a bit. At least your hair was clean, but that wasn’t going to be enough for tonight. There was no fucking way you were going to let them pick you up in this state. You had to look perfect - you had to look your best. Some delusional little corner of your mind reminded you that Frankie had feelings for you before, maybe you could tap into that somehow.

That’s a little fucked up, he’s engaged.

You ignored that thought as you picked out a flattering outfit and tried to work a miracle with your makeup. The reflection smiled back at you now, and you could almost recognize her - the sadness was still there but you were ignoring that too. There would be no room for sadness tonight.

“Hi! So glad you came out with us, you look lovely!” Claudia greeted you when you got into Frankie’s truck. Same truck you’d been getting into since you were a teenager, same truck he refused to get rid of because ‘shouldn’t fix what isn’t broken’. You saw the look Frankie gave you in the rear-view, saw his eyes quickly flash towards the exposed skin of your legs and a cruel little part of you soared at that. Got you it seemed to say.

“You look great Spills, Benny is going to eat you up.” He said it playfully but you heard the slight tinge of bitterness. Claudia didn’t notice.

“Oh yes, Benny is going to be all over you. They’re all going to love you, Will and Santi. I know they will.” Even her voice was sweet and you couldn’t help that it pissed you off how nice she was.

“Who’s Benny? Or Will or Santi for that matter?” The names meant nothing to you.

“Army buddies.” You knew him well enough to sense there was something that was bothering him, could it be the thought of his army buddies liking you? Your ego definitely liked that idea.

“They can be a little rough around the edges, but they’re sweet. Benny and his brother Will, even Santi. You’ll love them.” She was smiling at you, beaming.

We’ll see about that.

---

It made you a little sad when Frankie held the door open for the two of you as you walked into the bar. Nothing had changed, you knew that if you went to the last booth your combined initials would still be carved into the table. You knew that the second last stool was wobbly and if you sat there when you were too drunk, you’d fall and eat shit.

This is going to be fun.

Blessedly- thankfully- you did not sit at the last booth. When you walked in there had been a loud chorus of what you thought was the word ‘catfish’ which confused you profoundly, that is until you noticed Frankie laughing. They call you catfish? The people calling had slid a couple of tables together in the middle of the large room and had started the party without Frankie it seemed.

His smile was genuine when they greeted him and despite how you felt, despite how hurt you were that it wasn’t you on his arm - merging his home life with this army family he’d made - his happiness was lovely to behold. That smile, in this place was home. The bare bulbs hanging in this dingy bar, bathing him in golden light - seeing him like this made you ache, made you want to run your fingers through his hair. Made you want to kiss the little bald patch in his facial hair.

They all greeted Claudia and the spell was broken; it was almost overwhelming how much it hurt that it wasn’t you.

It should be me, it should have always been me.

“Okay okay - settle down, meet my best friend in the whole world. This is Spills.” He placed his hand at the small of your back - just barely - to bring you forward and they all smiled warmly at you.

“It’s nice to meet you - we’ve heard a lot about you.” A ruggedly handsome man with greying hair walked over to you and shook your hand warmly. He gave you a wink that suggested he knew more about you than you would have liked. “I’m Santi - but everyone calls me Pope.”

You went around as they all introduced themselves, a beautiful blond man named Will who called you sweetheart and gave you a -very welcome- lingering hug.

“Hey, I’m Benny - “ Frankie cut him off.

“Benny - behave please.” Frankie’s face was all smiles but you recognized the tone.

“I’m okay Francis. I can take care of myself.” You smiled at him sweetly and you shook Benny’s hand.

“Yeah Francis, let the lady speak for herself. It’s nice to meet you.” He smiled and guided you to sit beside him. You chanced a glance back at Frankie and you thought you caught a look of recognition between him and Pope but you couldn’t dwell on that. Your emotional attachment to Frankie could have been warping your perception of everything.

I’m seeing what I want to see.

---

Benny was chatty, he was sweet and a couple of years younger and you could tell he was a bit wild. Will - who you learned was his brother sat with the two of you and you learned about their childhoods, what had led them to join the army. You learned that Benny liked to box, which was strangely fitting and you learned that Frankie was one hell of a pilot.

At times you could almost ignore the rocks in the pit of your stomach, when Benny laughed and threw his arm around you. It felt nice to have someone pay attention to you this way, even if you weren’t exactly on the same wavelength. A little flirting couldn’t do any harm though and so you let it happen. You smiled sweetly and left his arm in place.

“So why do you guys call him Catfish?” The nickname was strange, he’d always been Frankie or Francis - Francisco when you were angry.

“Isn’t it obvious? Looks like a catfish with those ridiculous whiskers.” Will was laughing and when you looked back at him you found his gaze already fixed on you. On the closeness between you and Benny, you could see the way his eyes narrowed slightly.

Are you jealous right now? You’ve gotta be kidding me.

You could feel your blood boiling, was it all in your head? Were you just hoping that he’d be jealous of… what? Nothing was happening. Benny was cute, sure - but you didn’t want him.

I want you, you idiot.

Suddenly it was too much. You couldn’t be there surrounded by this part of his life that didn't include you. Pope walked over to the three of you as you got up - you needed to get out.

“Just going to grab some air - be back in a few.” You smiled as best you could, Will asked if you needed company, you declined politely.

The cool night air enveloped you when you opened the door - it helped a lot. There was a group of tables with ashtrays just outside the bar and you chose one of the empty ones. There was a gorgeous breeze out, you hadn’t realized how stuffy and suffocating it was inside.

Maybe it's just your brain.

“You okay Spills?” His voice crept down your spine.

“Yep - all good. You?” You could hear him approaching you, felt him sit next to you but you couldn’t look at him.

“I’m okay.” He sat beside you quietly, bumping his shoulder to yours. “What did you think of my friends?” You ignored his tone, somehow hopeful and bitter at the same time.

“They’re really nice, Benny and Will are sweet - Santi seems a little broody.” He laughed and you looked over at him - his big smile brought out your own.

“Just wait - once he’s comfortable around you he’ll never shut up. Those guys have been with me through a lot.” You kept forgetting that there was so much about his time away that you didn’t know. Things Claudia knew.

“You want to talk about it?” You bumped his shoulder back, knowing that sometimes he just needed to be asked. He looked at you strangely then, almost like he had just recognized you.

“Spills-” The door burst open with a loud laugh and Claudia came looking for him.

“Hey babe! Come on, they're making a toast.” She was all breathless smiles, wine dark lips and the end of your moment with him. He sighed loudly, a big smile on his face for her.

“Another time, let's go inside.” he said back to you as he walked towards her, towards Claudia and away from you.

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

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#pedro pascal #frankie x reader #frankie morales #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales x you #triple frontier #francisco catfish morales #frankie x f!reader #pedro pascal fic #frankie x female reader #frankie morales x reader #frankie x you #oblivius

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stuhde · 3 years

Photo

sunday: i meant to post this playlist weeks ago, so you could all have some soft indie study tunes to listen to while you’re studying for exams/midterms. as much as i love instrumental study music, sometimes you just want lyrics to listen to while studying. here’s a playlist to guide you through your work day before the next week begins 💫

(listen here)

patience - the lumineers // obvious bicycle - vampire weekend // all i want - kodaline // somebody else - the 1975 // meet me in the hallway - harry styles // from eden - hozier // angela - the lumineers // is there somebody who can watch you - the 1975 // all we ever knew - the head and the heart // featherstone - the paper kites // dirty paws - of monsters and men // like real people do - hozier // miracle aligners - the shadow puppets // hannah hunt - vampire weekend // hey k - passion pit // the cave - mumford and sons // suck it and see - arctic monkeys // reign down - bombay bicycle club // rivers and road - the head and the heart // ophelia - the lumineers // cherry wine (live) - hozier // from the dining table - harry styles

cleopatra - the lumineers // medicine - the 1975 // i think ur a contra - vampire weekend // monsoon - hippo campus // devil like me - rainbow kitten surprise // another story - the head and the heart // paint - the paper kits // sleep on the floor - the lumineers // please be naked - the 1975 // bloom (bonus track) - the paper kites // no guarantees (stinson beach ed.) - the head and the heart // goodnight chicago - rainbow kitten surpise // someone new - hozier // down in the valley - the head and the heart // to build a home - the cinematic orchestra // down in the valley - the head and the heart // polite company - rainbow kitten surprise // rhythm and blues - the head and the heart // stuck on puzzle - alex turner // work song - hozier // fallingforyou - the 1975 // this must be the place (naïve melody) - the lumineers // winter song - the head and the heart // woodland - the paper kites // baby i’m yours - arctic monrkeys // chateau - angus & julia stone // sedona - houndmouth // fire and fear - the head and the heart // tell me how - paramore // for sondra (it means the world to me) - passion pit // sincerity is scary - the 1975 // days on a wire - case // signs of light - the head and the heart // inside your mind - they 1975 // cowards - raleigh ritchie // wake me - bleachers // run - hozier // all well that ends well - rainbow kitten surprise // mine - the 1975 // on the way home - the paper kites // the ultracheese - arctic monkeys // mountain sound - of monsters and men // surrounded by heads and bodies - the 1975 // don’t forget me - the head and the heart // hey, ma - bon iver // arms - the paper kites // two weeks - grizzly bear // the only thing - sufjfan stevens // south - hippo campus // amsterdam - gregory alan isakov // backstroke - dizzy // loving is easy - rex orange county // rainbow - kacey musgraves // jesus christ 2005 god bless america - the 1975 // i <3 u - boy pablo // frail state of mind - they 1975 // RABi - bon iver // disappear - beabadoobee // say my name (spotify cover) - hozier // cig - baby fuzZ // be my mistake - the 1975 // crush - day wave // fine line - harry styles // i couldn’t be more in love - the 1975 // corduroy dreams - rex orange county // naeem - bon iver // don’t worry - the 1975 // nowadays - boy pablo // bloodlines - cape francis // halloween - pheobe bridgers // eugene - arlo parks // over the moon - the marías

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echos-newlegs · 3 years

Note

19 with anyone you want*

Let Me Go, Cyare

This one I had to think about since you gave me free range with characters, but I decided on Hardcase. He was mostly voted for last I checked the post where I asked for requests between a few clones I haven't written for yet.

'Francis Forever' by Mitski was playing and got me in the angst mood so.. Sorry in advance, buddies.

Hardcase x Reader: "Where are they? Please, I need to see them! Get out of my way!"

Wordcount: 1.2k

Warning: angst, mention of death, I cried a bit writing this lmao, minor cursing and Canon cursing.

You walked around the shitty apartment. Pacing the floors as you waited for any sort of message or knock from Hardcase to let you know that he was home, or that he would be a day or so later. He was scatterbrained, sure, but he was always so good at letting you know and not keeping you worried.

You ran a hand through your hair, eyes falling back to the clock. Another hour had passed. It had been four hours. No response to your worried ‘is everything alright,’ ‘Hardcase?’ ‘Where are you?’ Messages. That was it, maybe you should go for a walk? Think it off? You couldn’t just lay down and sleep. Not with the thought that lingered in the back of your mind. That ‘oh, you’re dating a soldier! He could be lying on the ground. Cold and defenseless as his life slowly leaves his full of life eyes.’

The thought made you clench your jaw as you reached for your jacket. Shrugging it over your shoulders as you reached to wipe a tear that rolled down your cheek. You needed a drink, that’s what you needed.

You moved for the door. Jumping when you heard a pounding on it. It had to be him.

“Hardcase?” Your voice was full of hope and fear as the door swished open. Eyes meeting a familiar face, but not his.

“Fives..” You muttered. Face dropping as the pit in your stomach only sunk deeper. Your throat is running dry as your eyes are coating with a glass. Waiting to shatter and spill down your cheeks.

“Where is he? What’s going on?” You asked. Impatiently waiting for an answer. Maybe he was pulling some sick prank. That had to be it.

You chuckled a bit at it. Looking up to the clone in front of you. Peeking behind him, then around him outside the door. Searching for the wild man you grew to love. “This is a joke, right?” You questioned. Voice wavering. Not even giving him a chance to speak. “He thought this would be fun-funny?” Your voice cracked at the frown on his face. He always smiled, what was going on?

“Hey, why don’t you come with me?”

You were shaking now. “Is he okay?” You mouthed. The glass in your eyes shattering. You couldn’t do this any longer.

“Let’s go for a walk, okay, General?”

General, but you were a civilian, were you not? Nothing more. You've never wanted to be anything more. A simple life. That's all you've ever wanted.

“Goddammit, Fives! Answer me, is he okay?” You shouted, the wave of emotions washing over you. Watching as the man backed up at your small outburst.

“I’m sorry,” You let out, shakily. Closing your eyes as you stood there. “I haven’t.. I mean,, he normally tells me when you’re all back. Is he..?” your eyes searched his. Mind thinking of the worse.

“No, no, he’s alive, but.. He’s in a pretty bad state.”

You let out a shaky sigh of relief.

“How bad? Is he awake?” You asked, and he shook his head. Looking back down.

“Thought if you went and saw him, he’d wake up.. I can’t lose him either.”

Those words made your eyes water again. Reaching out for the other. Pulling him in for a hug. The two of you standing in the hall hugging for what felt like forever.

The world seemed to be frozen in place, but not your mind. What if he didn’t make it? What even happened? What if he did come back, but he wasn’t the same? What if he gets taken back to Kamino and.. And what then?

“Let’s go see him then.” Was the last thing you said to Fives on your venture back to the Medbay.

Kix was rushing around from bed to bed when you saw them all. Your stomach is flipping, and not the ‘butterfly in your stomach.’ Sort of way. Not like when you saw his eyes light up because you agreed to go on that first stupid date. Where the two of you nearly died because Hardcase managed to start your kitchen on fire. Since the two of you didn’t have enough credits for something fancy, but really. It was the best date you had ever been on.

Your eyes watered again as Fives rubbed the small of your back. Waiting patiently for Kix to stop running and have the time to take you to him.

“Oh—“ Was all he said, and your small smile wavered. ‘Oh—‘ What did that mean?

“Why did you bring them here?” He nearly snapped, and Fives shrugged. “I thought it might help him?” Kix groaned at his brothers words. Lolling his head back just the slightest to express his annoyance.

“They cannot see him like this.” his voice was sour.

They were talking like you weren’t standing right there. Inches away from their conversations. Able to overhear them even if they were whispering, and they weren’t.

“Why not?” You asked, brow furrowing with a glimpse of sadness. “Does he not want to see me?”

They both froze, and Kix shook his head, 'no,’ after a while. “That’s not what I—“ “Then you cannot choose what I can and cannot handle, Kix.” Kix shook his head again. Approaching you with his hands in front of you. As if to push you back. You weren’t about to budge, though.

“Where are they!” You all heard a shout. Looking back to see a few med droids struggling in the corner. Curtains peaking open enough to see someone scurrying around in a panic. “Please! I need to see them!” His voice was shrill. Hoarse and scratchy. It sounded as if it were painful for him to even talk without screaming.

“Hardcase..” You murmured.

Before Kix could even process what was going on you were running past him. Shoving him to the side as you rushed back to where all the commotion was.

“Get off me for Kriff sake!” He shouted again. It had to be him! Sure he and his brothers had the same voice, but you knew his. The uniqueness to it.

“Hardcase!” You shouted with hope in your voice. Pulling the curtain back. Your heart was pounding. Chest aching as you hoped to see him.

But instead it was someone else. Someone entirely different, but yet not. It wasn’t because it was a clone of him, no. It was him. Just.. He wasn’t there. He was bloodied, and his eyes were dull. Lifeless. His smile was gone. Left without a trace as he stared into your eyes with his own once bright, gleaming eyes.

“Stop it..” You murmured as you backed up from the curtains. Room growing dark as your breathing picked up. “I died, Cyare, and you know it. Let me go, please, it hurts, I can’t stay any longer.” His voice echoed through your ears. His body seemed to be burning as he fought back his screams. Your eyes closing shut as tightly as you could. The way your head pounded made you want to scream. You felt paralyzed as you stood there in place. “But I can’t!” You shouted without even realizing it.” “Wake up, please.”

Your eyes shot open. Just this time you were lying on the ground. Staring up at the ceiling. Panting heavily.

“General! Are you alright!” The 501st was surrounding you. Your eyes darting around, but you were still unable to move your arms.

“Do you know where you are?” Tup asked, and you shook your head. Tears falling down your cheeks. “I’m too late, aren’t I?”

They all shared a glance. Eyebrows furrowed. “Too late for what, sir?”

“They already left.. He won’t make it out.. Only Fives and Jesse will.”

“Sir, you’re scaring us. What are you talking about?” Dogma asked. Kneeled beside you. Watching as your eyes stared up towards the ceiling.

“I had a vision.. Hardcase..” You bit back a whimper as you swallowed back the lump in your throat. “He’s gone.” someone finished.

Your eyes caught movement. Watching two clones walk in through the door. Buckets under their arms. Fives staring over to you. Meeting your eyes. "And he did it for you, for us all."

#clone trooper hardcase #hardcase #hardcase x reader #arc trooper fives #arc trooper jesse #star wars #the clone wars #please help my sad brain #clone wars angst #501st #I'm sad #clone trooper x reader

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mandelene · 3 years

Note

If you're still taking requests, can I have ℧ with Arthur please 👀

You sure can! 💕

The Tea Party and the Promise-Breaker

Word Count: 1690

“But you said you were gonna play tea party with us!”

“I know, darling, but I’m quite tired and—”

“You promised!” Amelia screeches.

Arthur swears he feels something in his skull rattle. He did promise, but that was before he worked three 16-hour shifts at the hospital and started to feel unwell. He woke up yesterday morning to a sore throat, but he refused to call out sick over something so trivial. Now, the sore throat is worse, his head hurts, his sinuses burn, and he can feel his nose beginning to run.

This is his first day off all week, and although he’d love to play with Amelia and Madeline, he simply doesn’t have the energy to entertain them. He wishes he could have a two-hour nap, but that won’t be possible since Francis is working until the early evening, which means Arthur is in charge of supervising their two six-year-olds for the day.

“You never want to play with us,” Amelia accuses him, sounding genuinely broken-hearted.

He knows it isn’t easy for the girls when he’s not home very often, and the last thing he wants is for them to think he doesn’t love or care about them—nothing could be farther from the truth.

“Okay, I’ll join the tea party,” he surrenders, overwhelmed by guilt. “Would you girls like me to set the kettle?”

“We’re gonna have imaginary tea, Dad,” Amelia explains, a little exasperated by how out of the loop he is. “But you can bring your own tea if you want…And bring cookies, too!”

“All right. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

“Yaaaaay!” Amelia cheers, jumping up and down several times before grabbing Madeline’s hand and dragging her toward her room. “Let’s get all of the toys, Maddie!”

When the girls are out of sight, Arthur releases a cough he’s been suppressing and buries it into the crook of his arm. A tea party won’t be too labor-intensive at least. He’d rather sit down and drink tea with the girls than have to run around with them in the yard.

He makes himself a large mug of tea with honey and lemon. Then, he grabs whatever leftover pastries are in the fridge—Francis is always baking something for the girls, it seems like. Thankfully, he finds some chocolate chip cookies as well as financiers. He sets them on a plate, gathers extra silverware and napkins for the girls, and makes his way back up the stairs, clearing his aching throat along the way.

When he arrives at Amelia’s room, the little children’s activity table that she normally keeps against the wall has been moved to the center of the room, along with two children’s chairs and two beanbag chairs.

Arthur doesn’t particularly like the seating arrangement, but he knows better than to complain. He places the treats, napkins, and his tea on the table and makes himself as comfortable as he can in one of the beanbag chairs, letting his weight sink into it with a sigh.

Amelia and Madeline have lined up their teddy bears and dolls around the room, and Madeline seems to have drawn a sign on a poster board that proudly says, “MADDIE AND AMELIA’S TEA PARTY.” The text is surrounded by doodles of flowers, teacups, and stars.

“What a beautiful sign, Madeline,” Arthur compliments her.

She sheepishly smiles and hugs her favorite teddy bear, Kumajirou, against her chest. “Thank you…Daddy, you didn’t wear your tie. You were suppose’ta dress up for the tea party.”

He looks down at his attire and frowns. Yes, perhaps flannel pajama bottoms, a black t-shirt, slippers, and his gray bathrobe weren’t a great stylistic choice. Both of the girls are wearing dresses and tights. “My apologies, ladies. I can change, if you’d like?”

“It’s okay. You just havta act like a gentleman,” Madeline instructs, and Arthur can’t help but smile at how endearing all of this is.

He should enjoy it while it lasts—the girls won’t be interested in having tea parties with him when they’re older. Although he’d rather be in bed, he’s glad he agreed to this.

“I’ll try to be on my best behavior,” he assures them before taking a sip of his tea.

“You havta stick your pinkie finger out,” Amelia reminds before pretending to pour tea for herself and Madeline from their children’s tea kettle and into plastic teacups.

Arthur puts his pinkie out and nods. “Ahh, how could I forget? So, tell me, has anything interesting been happening at school?”

Amelia immediately begins to talk about how some other girl in their class recently got a new bike, and how she feels awful that she’s six and a half years old and can’t ride a bike yet. “Will you teach me, Dad?”

“Of course, love. When summer comes we can think about it.”

“Promise?”

He’s learned his lesson about making promises. “We’ll see,” he says instead, ignoring the expression of disappointment on Amelia’s face. He takes a napkin from the table, excuses himself, and blows his nose softly, wincing at the ache in his sinuses…He’s feeling a bit feverish as well.

“Are you okay?” Madeline asks him, concerned.

“I’m just a bit under the weather,” he admits. “So, no hugging or kissing—I don’t watch you girls to catch this.”

Madeline doesn’t seem to be willing to let the subject go just yet. “Did you take medicine?”

“I will in a little while. Thank you, poppet.”

Amelia stands up and comes over to him to yank on his arm. “You havta go to bed, you’re sick. You always say we can’t play when we’re sick and havta rest, remember?”

Arthur feels his patience thinning, but having an excuse to lie down for a moment could be worth it.

“I can’t go to bed. I have to take care of you girls. It’ll be lunchtime soon, and I have to—”

“No, mister.”

“But I—”

“No buts!” Amelia scolds him, and for a second, he forgets who the adult in the room is.

He picks up his mug of tea and begrudgingly follows Amelia back to the master bedroom, where he obediently lies down on his and Francis’s bed, groaning when his sore muscles meet the memory foam mattress.

“We’ll take good care of you!” Amelia exclaims, exuberant.

Arthur’s not too sure he’s looking forward to this, but as the girls go and conspire out in the hallway, he allows himself to close his eyes for just a moment…Only a moment…He has to stay up to watch the girls…

The next time he opens his eyes, Amelia is poking a thermometer against his mouth, waking him from a very brief snooze.

“You’ve gotta take your temperature, Dad.”

Now that his body has had a taste of sleep, he feels absolutely exhausted. He takes the thermometer from her and puts it under his tongue, curious to see what the reading will be. When it beeps, he grimaces at the number taunting him. A hundred and two point seven. That’s thirty-nine degrees Celsius—enough to signal to him that this is probably more than a mere cold.

“Do you have a fever?” Madeline asks from the end of the bed, eyes shimmering.

“No,” he lies. “I’m fine, girls. It’s nothing to worry about…You should both return to the tea party. I’m going to rest here for a moment and—”

Amelia touches his forehead with her cold hand, and he shivers. “You need medicine.”

“I’m all right for now, girls. Really. Go back and play.”

To his surprise, the girls do leave, and he lets out a sigh of relief…That is, until he hears Amelia talking to someone over the house phone in the distance.

He jolts out of bed and dashes over to her, but it’s too late…

“Papa wants to talk to you,” she says, matter-of-fact.

Damn.

He takes the phone from her, feeling a growing pit of dread in his stomach. “Hello?”

“Arthur, why didn’t you tell me before I left the house this morning that you were feeling ill?”

“I’m fine, Francis.”

“I’ll be home in an hour.”

“You don’t—”

“See you then.”

And just like that, Francis hangs up.

Arthur puts the phone down and prepares his most intimidating scowl, ready to direct it at Amelia, but then she pulls on his arm again and says, “We can play tea party next time. Don’t worry. You’ll be all better soon.”

The scowl disappears and is replaced by a wistful smile. “Thank you, love. I’m sorry our plans have to be put on hold. I’ll make it up to you both, all right?”

The girls nod, and Arthur sends them off to finish the pastries that are still waiting for them in Amelia’s room. In the meantime, he finishes his tea and blows his nose again. He sucks on a cough drop and grits his teeth against the immense pressure in his sinuses. After seeing the color of his mucus, he’s willing to bet he has a sinus infection.

He leans against the headboard of the bed and falls asleep against his will.

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

“Come, mon amour—you’re going to have a sore neck and back if you stay like this. Lie down properly,” Francis coaxes him, bracing his head for him.

Arthur’s not sure how long he’s been asleep, but he lowers his head so that it’s on his pillow and lies flat on his back. “…You didn’t have to come home early.”

“I’m glad I did—you have a fever, and a high one at that,” Francis says, setting a damp hand towel on his feverish brow. “Did you really think you’d be able to tend to the girls when you’re like this? It’s dangerous. You should have told me.”

“…'m sorry,” Arthur mumbles, still incredibly tired. The towel on his head feels nice.

“You just wanted a reason to leave the tea party, didn’t you?” Francis jokes, brushing his hand against his warm cheek. “The girls told me about it.”

“Oh, of course. The next time I’m asked to play dress-up or ‘hair salon’ with them, I just may have to give myself bronchitis.”

Francis laughs and kisses the side of his head. “Conniving man.”

#hetalia #aph england #hws england #aph nyo america #aph nyo canada #hws nyo america #hws nyo canada #aph france #hws france #aph face family #hws face family #hurt comfort #sick arthur #drabbles

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theodora3022 · 3 years

Text

Crown Jewel

(noun): a particularly valuable or prized possession or asset.

Pairing: Francis Scott Fitzgerald X fem! former assassin reader

Summary: Having betrayed the Order of the Clock Tower and fled to Japan, you hid your ability and worked at the ADA as a secretary for protection. Life was not as good, but you knew what Lady Christie would do if she discovered a traitor’s whereabouts. You knew someone would dig up your old dirt sooner or later, but why does it have to be this arrogant, awful man?

Notes: This is really self-indulgent (to satiate my cravings and daddy issues), so read it at your own risk. I am not comfortable with cheating, so Francis is single in this one and never went bankrupt.(But he is still a family man, his wife Zelda passed away before the events in the show) He is an arrogant bastard in canon so you might find his behaviour offensive but that is just how he is. Excuse my pathetic Canadian English, as I cannot write in British English at all. This fic took me too many hours to write, thankfully it is finally done...

Special thanks to my friends for beta reading this long thing, your encouragement and praises are what kept my fragile sanity intact in the process!

Word count: 4.2k

Warnings: Mild bimbofication, mild objectification, coercion, implied dub-con(We all know what happens in marriages right?), Yandere themes

She was beautiful, but not like those girls in the magazines.

She was beautiful for the way she thought.

She was beautiful, for the sparkle in her eyes when she talked about something she loved.

She was beautiful, for her ability to make other people smile, even if she was sad.

No, she wasn’t beautiful for something as temporary as her looks.

She was beautiful, deep down to her soul.

-F.Scott Fitzgerald

The entire Fitzgerald Estate is finely, thoughtfully decorated, lavish even. Like photographs right out of a luxurious architecture magazine, with marble floors, persian carpets and high raised ceilings. A manor that sits on the top of a little hill, surrounded by trees and flowerbeds. But no matter how beautiful it may be, no one can never feel quite at home in prison. You thought as you lean back on the living room sofa near the patio, slowly dozing off in the afternoon sunlight with a half-read novel on your lap. Maybe you would go for a swim later, you could use a soak before he returns.

It’s easy to forget how much blood is on your hands in peaceful times like these. Ever since he made you dispose of your count book, you can barely remember how many people you had slaughtered.

Your hands were once covered with callouses from hours of training, but now they are as smooth as the velvet curtains. The glow from the big diamond ring on your ring finger irritates you so very often, but he had warned you not to take it off.

“Lady Fitzgerald? Mrs. Smith is here for your fitting session.” It is one of the maids. Ah, is the tailor here already? You put up a smile for the guest and got up, silently cursing your “husband” in the process. Good thing he is at work most of the time, so you can at least enjoy this glamorous life every once in a while without wanting to bury yourself in a bottomless pit.

Another week, another one of those frivolous social events. But you have no choice but to accompany him to every single one of them. While acting as the leader of the Guild, Francis is also the head of the Fitzgerald cooperation, therefore this high society life has always been the norm for him. You, on the other hand, prefer lurking in the shades. All these shimmering lights, noisy parties, fancy dresses and high heels leave you either dazzled or vulnerable. You feel more like his nice accessory, a Christmas bauble than a wife. However, you know your obligations. Be his arm candy, smile, be obedient and not to speak unless spoken to. The alternative of obeying these absurdities is simply unthinkable. Merely the thought can make you feel chills on this warm summer afternoon.

It’s either this or absolute hell. No, that is not an exaggeration.

As an experienced assassin, you had prepared for death since you first signed up for the position. However, no one can bear the Order’s punishments. You know that too well, having witnessed it first-hand countless times.

At least you can live a carefree life with this option. With infuriating restrictions or not, you are still alive and maintain a certain degree of freedom. You should take this compared to an excruciating death any day. Plus you also get to live in extravagance, you cannot hate that for one bit. This rich man has spoiled you to no end, willing to fulfill even your most absurd requests as long as you are his darling wife. Let it be cars, clothes or jewelries, whatever you wish for, Francis would always make sure you got the finest of them. Not that is ever possible, but you could...get used to this.

However, you utterly despise this title, Lady Fitzgerald? No matter how much he pampers you or showers you with gifts, it would never make up for the fact that you only signed that marriage license under certain conditions. There are those sleepless nights, while you lay under silk quilts in his embrace in some exquisite mansion, you wish you were back in your humble Yokohama flat alone.

---a few months ago

Almost spilling your morning beverage due to running into one of your coworkers at the door, is surely a bad omen, but at the time you did not give it much thought. “Sorry, (y/n)-san. But there is an emergency.” Kirako Haruno?

Work has only just begun, and to your knowledge, there are no major events scheduled for today. Why is she in such a hurry?

Haruno is as terrified as if she just saw a bear in the middle of the street. Strange, since she is usually calm and collected.

“What has happened? Are you okay?”

“There are foreigners here, they are demanding an audience with the president. (y/n)-san, you can handle them, right? Please, keep them occupied while I notify the president.” Looks like this is your problem now since you speak better English compared to any other in the ADA.

She said it quickly without any pause. Also walked away before you had a chance to refuse, so Haruno missed how the colours suddenly drained from your visage and your horrid expression.

Oh, dear. Please do not let the foreigners be them… Although not many members of the Order recognizes you as you always don masks even at meetings, you still feel the world may have ended for you, as you wobble out of the office to the reception area with cold sweat. If Haruno had not hurried off, you would have found some excuse to get away from this troublesome situation. You should have called in sick today...

Are they speaking with American accents? Good gracious, you almost had a heart attack over this. You dealt with the Guild before, back when you were still in the Order when you still viewed Lady Christie as your older sister. She used to take you to negotiations meetings. You know how they are, so it should be a cakewalk to keep them occupied for at least a while. But...what if they identify you and report your whereabouts to the Order?! Would they be willing to do Christie this “favour”? The last time you checked, the two organizations were not on exactly friendly terms. So you should be fine as long as you act accordingly. Besides, the agency would not allow foreigners to harm one of their office clerks, precisely why you applied for a job ADA a year-and-a-half ago.

Get your act together, (y/n). Being this panicked is beneath you, everything will be alright as long as you conceal your fears.

Finishing on your diplomatic front preparation, you greet them with a professional attitude. “Welcome to the Armed Detective Agency, ladies and gentlemen of the Guild.” You try to talk in the calmest tone possible, without stutters. “Now if you would follow me, I shall prepare you some tea. The President will be ready for you shortly.” Now that you have a chance to observe them up close, you had to dig your nails into your palms, pressuring yourself to maintain composure. Why is the leader of the Guild here?! You had seen him before, there is no way you could mistake that arrogant blonde for anyone else. Even though you are pretty confident he would scarcely recognize you without a mask, that tiny possibility feels like a sharp blade pressing against your throat, ready to strike anytime.

Fitzgerald was not expecting someone who speaks flawless English to receive them. Not someone this cute, too. And here he thought this is just going to be like any other boring business discussion. But he cannot shake off this feeling of how he had seen your enchanting smile somewhere before. It was not easy to leave even a vague impression on the great Francis Scotts Fitzgerald, you must have been someone important. A business partner? A Government Official? Or perhaps a Socialite? You are someone with a high position, that he can be sure. But why would you Oh how he hates having blurry memories of something. As soon as he returns to the Guild base, Francis needs to look into their Database immediately.

“Earl Grey, imported from England. Would you like some refreshments as well?” Taking out a can of cream biscuits from your desk drawer, you are glad to see the redhead young girl nodding excitedly. You return a genuine smile to her before bending down to fetch the plate. You were not sure if you were just being oversensitive, but you felt a burning gaze on your back when you turned. Your assassin instincts were almost always accurate, could it be that Fitzgerald had remembered something?

“Is there something wrong, Miss? You are sweating so much.” You do appreciate the ginger girl’s kind words, but could she not say it out loud for her boss to hear? You were planning on keeping your panics to yourself. Moving unnoticeable further away from the Guild leader, you gulped nervously.

“My apologies. I am not feeling well this morning. Now, here’s your biscuits.”

“Aren’t they called cookies? They are truly delicious, thank you so much, Miss. I’m Lucy by the way.”

“In England, we call them biscuits. Would you like some more, Lucy? I have more if you’ll like it.” Her cheerful nature reminds you of a little sister, how could you say no to her pleading eyes. Unfortunately, this also made you forget how you are trying to remain incognito, and you let your hidden past out unintentionally.

England? That certainly rings a bell for the bright mind of Francis Fitzgerald. And no, he was not eavesdropping. You are talking to his employee, after all. Francis even forgot to scold Lucy about being a demanding guest on cookies because he was so deep in thought, searching for any clue of who you might be. He was about to recall something when you received the president’s notice about the meeting. “The President is ready now, this way please.”

After they entered the office, you realized how you had accidentally exposed yourself while explaining about biscuits. No, now all you can do is pray Fitzgerald was not listening in to that whimsical tea-time conversation. Your stomach suddenly feels queasy, a sign that maybe you should request to go home early. You surely do not want to face those calculating blue eyes again. Heck, you never trembled this badly, not even before the toughest missions.

He was planning on asking you some questions after that unsuccessful negotiation, but it would seem like you had taken a sick leave early.

You seem to be rather nervous around him. Suspicious.

Yet Francis cannot stop thinking about how you cared for Lucy. That consideration, if his little daughter is still around, she is bound to love you… It could just be professional kindness, but Francis had seen enough people to tell what is a facade or not. Zelda was like this too, in fact, it’s this admirable quality that had drawn him in the first place.

The great Fitzgerald had seen so many beautiful women, but your unparalleled warmth and grace outshine all appearances.

Wait, Francis had finally cleared the fog now. Aren’t you that girl with Agatha Christie, the head knight of the Order of the Clock Tower? No wonder you speak of England. He was so shocked when Christie introduced you as one of her finest knights. You were so friendly and lighthearted, how can you be that notorious master Assassin? It does not matter whether you had a mask on or not, he remembers those lovely (colour) eyes too well. He had found you to be alluring back then, but at that time he was too busy to concern himself with amorous feelings. Going through the guild files, he found that statement from Christie about how you had defected from the Order and a bounty for your whereabouts.

So, you are hiding from your former Organization? That is unfortunate. Francis had heard a word or two about how the Order is feared for its gruesome torture methods, how they still implement the old ways without mercy. You would rather work as a low-wage secretary then continue being one of their most esteemed Knights, something must have gone terribly wrong.

This is the perfect wager to let you, a kind, independent strong woman, bend to his will.

Now that he had thought about it, coming back home to a loving wife once again sounds more than wonderful. Having someone by his side forever, to love, to spoil, to have a family with had always been what he wanted. But fate has been cruel to Francis on this matter and had taken them away way too soon.

This time, he would make sure to do it right. Francis is determined not to let the tragedy repeat itself.

You were surprised by that clearly expensive gift box on your desk the next day you arrived at work. There is a letter attached to it? Your heart dropped when you saw the Guild's emblem embedded on the wax seal. What could they possibly want from you apart from...that?

“Dear Ms(y/n), Sir Francis S FitzGerald would like you to join him for dinner at (location). Please put on the dress in the box attached and be at (location) at seven p.m sharp.”

What a condescending letter. Not even a polite invitation, just saying he wants you there? You knew how this Fitzgerald is, that arrogant and greedy type, who would value money above conscience. Well, you still got some savings left, if that could shut him up you would not mind emptying your pockets.

You can never let her find you. Suicide before she did is a possible option, but you decided to save that as the last resort.

That is why you decided to put on that dress and go to meet him at this high-end western restaurant.

The hem of the dress is too short for your likings, but its sublime texture made you presume it costs a fortune. You cannot even recall when was the last time you had don such fine material. Life as a Knight major feels nothing more than a fever dream when Agatha was still your friend, your dear Commander.

What is Fitzgerlad’s intention of giving you such a scandalous dress? Is this some peculiar way to humiliate you? This is why you are better off acting as the blade, never as the tactician. Mind games were never your forte.

You are wearing that dress as Francis asked, good. He knew you would look gorgeous in it. It’s such a shame you always covered yourself up. Why wear those cheap, conservative trash when you can wear this?

Someone like you needs to be cherished, to be coddled. You do not belong in the shades or some little office.

“Mr. Fitzgerald. How may I help you today?” God, you feel almost naked in this piece of cloth, but you know you had to grin and bear it as he has the upper hand for now. “If this is about that business permit, I am not the one to make decisions.”

“Why, you are not going to thank me for the dress? You look absolutely breathtaking if you are wondering.” Crap, he is wearing a suit of a matching colour. Has he done this on purpose?

You blush a bit at Francis’s generous compliment, but you did not foreget why you are here.

“Please, do sit. And call me Francis, Miss.” Pulling the chair out for you, Francis smiled politely before signalling the waiters to bring out the appetizers. He is acting way too nice if all he wants is blackmailing you. You were expecting a simple, cold business trade, not...whatever this can be called.

“So, how is Lady Christie doing?” You put down the wine glass, sensing his malicious intent and narrowing your eyes. Of course, he knows, you should have expected this much from the leader of the Guild and an accomplished businessman. Lady Christie must have sent out wanted advertisements, too.

“If you know this much then you must know I am not a part of the Order anymore.” Just name the price already, then you can both go back to your respective businesses and forget your paths ever crossed.

Clever one, although Francis would expect anything less from someone like you. Not just anyone could be the Knight major of that Order after all. You sighed with frustration, clearly wanting to get this over with. “How much do you need? I still have a decent sum in my bank account.” It would probably be a large price, coming from this greedy man, but you are willing to pay for it as long as he stays silent.

You, trying to bribe him? How adorable. You must have been incredibly oblivious to not notice his intentions. Yes, normally a good check would silence Francis, but can’t you see he is not after your money here?

Instead of taking the pen, Francis shoved his smartphone in front of your face.

You turn paler when you figure out the contents. It was an email draft, a draft intended for your former Commander. It tells how the Guild is doing her a big favour by returning her astray Knight major to her proper place. Did he type out an email already? You can already feel those cold dungeon bars on your skin.

“Is money not enough? What exactly do you need?” Calm down, (y/n). If Francis did not send that email, it means negotiation is still possible. Just give him what he needs and be done with it.

To your shock, the blonde smiled smugly and said: “I want you to join the Guild.”

Join the Guild? “As an assassin?” Of course, he is after your ability. It was what made you a high ranking knight, no wonder he would want that for his organization.

“Not exactly. You see, I’m looking for a...personal bodyguard.” Hm, Francis is fond of the word “personal” in this context, it makes him feel like you are one of his possessions already.

“If you have any knowledge about my ability at all, you should know I am no good for frontal combat. With your status, fitting individuals would come running.” Is he toying with you? How despicable. Only a dastard would toy with someone’s mind, especially someone desperate.

Carefully taking your hand into his, feeling your soft skin and those light calluses on your fingers, Francis knows he has to do this the blunt way. You are such a fool when it comes to romantic relationships.

“Be my wife, you don’t need to worry about being discovered ever again. Christie cannot touch you as long as you are by my side. You can have whatever you want, just say the word. ”

This has to be a hallucination. Be his...wife? “Mr. Fitzgerald, have you got hit on the head earlier?” Feeling his forehead with the back of your hand: “You do not seem to have a fever. Are you feeling unwell?” Is he out of his mind? You, his wife? You are a dangerous assassin with a high headcount, not exactly wife material. No one sane wishes to be involved with you romantically, or so you thought.

He was not expecting such an eccentric reaction. Most women would be over the moon with the mere thought of becoming his mistress, not to mention an actual wife. Francis knows you are different, but this is out of his wildest predictions.

You are even harder to predict than the stock market of New York.

“This is a serious offer, love. Do you take my words as some jester’s joke?” He is not joking? Oh dear, you don’t want to marry this man. He did not even properly court you? And it is not like he is giving you a real choice either.

“What, are you going to refuse? That is fine, surely this email could bring a smile to Christie's face.” “No, please don’t send that email!”The way your pupils shrink suddenly gives him heartaches, but this is the necessary measure to make sure you are compliant. Francis had promised to spoil you, but sadly this is not a matter he can compromise with. He could make it up with gifts and attention later right? This life in exile is not fitting for a lady like you, so why don’t you let him take care of you? Don’t you understand what could happen to you had he not intervened?

That trembling little nod is all Francis needs for confirmation. As he brings your hand to his lips for a gentle kiss, he swore silently to himself how he would never repeat his previous mistakes.

“Now, let us go ring shopping. Pick the biggest diamond one if you like, but make sure to select it out with a matching one.”

----Back to present

After the fitting appointment, you decided to spend the rest of the afternoon with some confectionary practices. You remember well how Francis’s face would lit up like a Christmas tree if he comes home to the smell of your bakings. It disgusts you how much he loves your docile mask, how you are his perfect housewife, his Mrs. Fitzgerald. This bastard do take pleasure in others pain.

Still, you must keep your “husband” happy. Humming your favourite melody in a pink apron, you try to imagine you are just doing this for only your own amusement, in your own house to make this more bearable.

Baking is one of the many hobbies you picked up after becoming Lady Fitzgerald. You could not work, neither as an assassin nor a secretary, as he is concerned about your “safety”: “Why should my lovely wife trouble herself with those headaches? You should spend your day doing whatever interests you, like painting or knitting! Tell me anytime if you need tutors.” Then Francis gave your head a few pats as if you are some cute puppy? You can never count how many screws he got loose.

What interests you? Well, stabbing Francis in his sleep could hardly count as a suitable hobby. Guess you’ll have to think of other ways to utilize those kitchen knives. Since he forbids you to train with weapons, you are stuck with those pathetic feminine leisure activities.

Placing the tray onto the preheated oven rack, you were cleaning up the mess from the process when two strong arms abruptly wrapped around your waist from behind. You knew exactly who it is since you had sensed his presence when he first set a foot into this ridiculously large kitchen. You also had to take deep breaths, reminding yourself why you shouldn’t just aim your fists at Francis’s nose then and there. These past few months with him had raised your resilience to an incredible level, you could tolerate his demanding physical affections without the urge to jump off a cliff now.

Curling your lips upwards, you push yourself to leave a light peck on the tall blonde man’s left cheek. That is mandatory, you had learned that on the first day here. “You’re home early.” The way you say those words is so sweet, even sweeter than those sugary treats in the oven. Even though you have to be careful, not letting the venom underneath slip out.

This is what Francis S. Fitzgerald longs to come home to, the love of his life after a day of gruelling meetings and other work. Once a renowned assassin, a second-in-command Knight in a Prestigious Royal Order, but now you are just his little housewife. He could never find a shinier trophy to demonstrate his power and influence. The haughty Blonde knows you have not entirely given up on the idea of escaping, still holding a grudge towards him, time will tell whether you accept your place or not. But that does not matter now, right now the Guild leader just wants to watch some brainless tv show on the sofa, with you on his lap to unwind, some Bordeaux would be nice too. He could handle all those business meetings if that means holding you to sleep every night. The sight of your smile makes it all worth it.

You belong to him now, his most prized possession, the crown jewel of Francis Fitzgerald’s collection.

And you have no say in the matter as long as you wish to stay in the land of the living.

It was only a sunny smile, and little it cost in the giving,

But like morning light it scattered the night and made the day worth living.

-F.Scott Fitzgerald

(Hey! Thank you for reading! Commetns and reblogs would be greately appreciated!)

#bsd #bsd francis fitzgerald #yandere bsd #yandere francis fizgerald #the guild bsd #bsd the guild #bsd fanfic #yancore #yandere x you

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anarkissm · 2 years

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@uminoroi: yoichi's eyes are blown wide as he meets Adam's eyes, taken by complete surprise, " you... speak Japanese?? " It was one thing to hear he, too, was a teacher at one point, another when he could communicate in Yoichi's mother tongue. A smile spreads across his face, deciding to take the plunge and switch to the language he knew best (he'll be happy to flip back if Adam showed any trouble understanding), 「 What part of the country did work in? And what did you teach?」 It's hard to hold back some of his eagerness when meeting someone in a similar field to him.

familiarity becomes a wellspring of comfort, in a world that is so horrifyingly unfamiliar. adam knows this. it is why he reaches out to the young man, speaking to yoichi in a language that feels only slightly awkward in his mouth, watashi wa adam francis. yoichi's smooth face and unblemished clothes make him stand out, like a bright target. his english holds the gentlest traces of an accent. the fog is dense. the fire pit is a soft, firefly glow in the darkness. for once, there is some semblance of peace. "yes, i do," adam says, in conversational japanese. his eyes are crinkled, smiling in the dark. this normalcy almost feels irrational, but adam clings to it, cherishes it. "i taught english literature in kagoshima. i still think about my students. they actually helped me get better at japanese, it brought us closer. but that feels like a long time ago..." he thinks that he has been here, surviving, dying, for five years. maybe more. maybe less. maybe this is just one long, long day.

“i wanted to get your attention, actually. because you’re... new. you’ll need our help in this place. we have to work together. it’s the only way to survive them.” he bows his head, respectful, resolute, “i hope this helps with communicating, if english isn’t your preference.”

#uminoroi #SCRIPT.#aaa hello hello i love this?? <3 tysm #FRANCIS ，ADAM.

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rein-ette · 3 years

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Howdy howdy! A question for you: what your favourite thing that you've written, and why?

First thing that comes to mind is The Dark World is Not Far From Us. It was the first piece of fictional writing I ever posted for anyone besides my closest friends to see only a few short months ago, and it touches on a time period very close to my heart as well. It's not my best writing, technically speaking, but it was one of the those scenes that was so vivid in my mind I just had to write it down, and WWII happened to be a unique time frame for engport as well that I had never seen anyone discuss in much detail. I was in the middle of some exam hell back then too, so I can't even remember how I wrote it -- but I'm pretty happy with the result.

More recently my fraport fic Ständchen is, I think, another one that's moving up the personal favourites ranking. I honestly don't know if I'm judging these by the writing quality or if I just liked the content, but I literally cried listening to the actual musical piece Ständchen played on the cello and thinking about Francis -- it just felt so perfect for his character, capturing his voice in a way words never can. That fic began from a single paragraph I jotted down frantically in the notes app on my phone on one evening walk, and its still one of my most memorable:

As he placed another dish on the growing pile beside him and pulled a saucepan under the scalding water, he reflected on how Francis had become noticeably quieter after the war. There were moments in meetings, even parties, where Gabriel would catch his Francis staring off into the middle distance, a nameless emotion in those timeless blue eyes. Of course, Gabriel had long known that Francis had at least one serious side to match each of his glowing smiles, though even this, Gabriel felt, he had figured out rather too late. The problem was that, even as a child, reading Francis was like trying to see through an Arctic glacier to the sea floor below. As Francis aged, the ice only got thicker and the ocean deeper. He remembered Arthur had once compared Francis’s personality to Daedalus’s Labyrinth — fathomless and ever-changing, with a will of its own that even it’s creator couldn’t quite control. It was this lack of control over his own mind, Arthur said, that drove Francis to pursue mastery over his expressions and body, the logic being that if he could not understand his own heart, at the very least no one else would be able to, either.

Speaking of small sections I've liked, here's another containing what I believe to be the best line I've written to date (the last one):

[Marcus] had taken his brother's tunic, and then his hand, and pulled him away from their mother. Pulled him through the dusty years that followed, when they scraped an existence from what they could scavenge and grow and beg for to whet their hunger. Pulled him away from their home, then, when the Roman soldiers had finally come to collect them, pulled the both of them away from their land and all the way to the Imperial City.

Had taken his hand as they stood again before Rome. Not the buildings, but the being whom they called the Eternal One.

Had taken his hand, even in the gladiator pit.

The beasts had not terrified Marcus as much as the flutter of his brother's pulse in his palm.

This is from the second chapter of iacta alea est, which is currently on hiatus because I can't really get the frain chapter right.

Other than Hetalia, I've written some snippets of original fiction before, but they weren't much good. I also wrote a considerable amount of poetry, especially when I was having a tough go of it a couple years back, but that was also more a form of therapy than writing for writing. In digging for this ask I realized I actually lost a good chunk of those switching to my new laptop, which is both a shame and a...relief? In the sense that perhaps I can finally move on from those terrible emotions that forced me to write back then. Here's one that I could find that seemed 'aight (if you're into that sort of thing):

#it's reining again #ask #rainbowfruitpastilles #thanks for the ask!#unlike you two I feel like I had fun with this unexpectedly #i have a lot of favourite lines but not that many favourite works they're all aight to me #my goal is always to hit that one line that just so right you shiver when you read it #as for the poems most of them I can’t post without like ten trigger warnings #that’s the kinda shit I was in back then 🥲

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incorrectnevermoor · 4 years

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Nevermoor characters playing Among Us.

Morrigan: Purple. Somehow always sus. Always gets accused.

“It’s purple!”

“I was on the other side of the map with blue! Why do you even think it’s me?!”

“Sus”

[Morrigan was not the impostor.]

She’s just trying to do her tasks, let her live. Doesn’t like being impostor, it makes her nervous, vents everywhere. Honestly kind of prefers being a ghost.

Hawthorne: Blue. Always moving. Hates long tasks. The maze task is the bane of his existence. Fairly quick at finishing his tasks, but prone to accusing everyone. Relies heavily on sabotage as impostor, will probably kill you in electrical.

Cadence: White. QUIET. Usually right about who the impostor is. People forget she’s playing sometimes. Will definitely follow people around looking sus as hell but she’s just trying to figure out who the impostor is. Gets even quieter as impostor, nobody suspects her because they genuinely don’t know she’s there. Once they realize she’s definitely the prime suspect tho.

Mahir: Orange. Likes playing with randoms. Probably has friends in the Philippines or something due to this. Will go along with whatever everyone’s saying, doesn’t like conflict. Sucks as impostor because he’ll only sabotage, if he kills anyone he’ll get caught immediately.

Thaddea: Red. Very argumentative. If she accuses you she won’t rest until you get voted out. Can get sus because of how many accusations she makes but she’s really just trying to win. Gets trigger happy as impostor, prone to getting caught red handed.

Archan: Dark green. Prefers being impostor, likes stealth kills. Will turn the lights off and by the time the crew gets them back on there’s like 3 people dead. He likes Polus because there’s a lot of open space. Doesn’t trust anyone but also doesn’t point fingers. Fairly neutral when voting.

Lambeth: Pink. Can guess who the impostor’s gonna be in the loading screen. Goes along with what the others are saying. Scared of going into electrical alone. Decent impostor, nobody suspects her until someone catches her venting or the other impostor throws her under the bus.

Anah: Cyan. Always goes to medbay first. “Alright follow me and watch me do the scan.” Usually survives. Generally kind of quiet. Somehow always finds the first body. Self reports as impostor, gets caught because they get their lies crossed.

Francis: Brown. Names himself chocolate or something, probably. Paranoid, runs away from other players or pairs up with the one person they trust most. Usually gets killed because it’s easy to catch him alone. Nervous impostor, probably gets caught while venting.

Jupiter: Yellow. This man goes full detective mode. Probably has notes or something because he remembers EVERYTHING anyone says. Quick with his tasks. Very good as crewmate. He’s in cams or admin as soon as his tasks are done. His impostor win ratio is 50/50, good at lying but takes too long waiting to catch people alone so the crew probably finish their tasks first and win that way. Fun to play with tho.

Jack: Lime. Ruthless. Will call anyone out. Can always tell if you’re lying. It’s as if he can see All. People don’t always believe him but when they do he’s right. Hates the maze task. If you call for an emergency meeting without a good reason he will get you voted out. Good impostor, strategic, prefers playing with only one imp instead of 2 or 3, because it feels more fun. Unless he’s crew, then he likes 2 imps.

Squall: Black. A bastard. Leaves the game if he’s not impostor. Will pit everyone against each other. Thrives when everyone’s paranoid. Will blame everyone. On the off chance that he’s crew, he’s probably the extra impostor, he just likes seeing crew lose. Leaves lobbies if someone chose black first. Doesn’t hesitate to throw other impostors under the bus.

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taliaquinn · 4 years

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Why Me!? Chapter 12

Mass Panic immediately ensued following the texts.

Rose couldn’t help but tear up at the thought that she won't be wearing the beautiful new dress she designed with Marinette. Alya was panicking because she knew how much Marinette's MDC dresses cost. Yes, she stalked her website, but only to trash talk it with Lila, Lila even told her how some of those designs were her idea and Marinette stole them.

Adrien decided to try and call his ex-classmates but was shocked to find that he was blocked . He decided to try calling Marinette but was even more shocked to find that the line was disconnected.

Alya finally had enough of the chaos and decided to try and get control of the room again. She blew a shrill whistle “EVERYONE QUIET, Look we lost only a few people, most of them bullies, we don't need them together we can handle this”

No one would admit the queasy feeling they got at the pit of there stomachs. They knew Marinette might've been a bully but she was an excellent president.

Gotham Airfield Gotham City, U.S.A 7 a.m

Marinette stirred and was shocked to find that her parents were up and getting there carry on luggage. Quickly glancing out her window she was shocked to find that they Landed in Gotham. Eep. Quickly gathering her art supplies she followed her parents down the steps.

Suddenly she heard a squeal “Oh my gosh she’s so adorablleeeee, Bruce are you sure this is your kid?”, she looked up to see a blonde girl jumping up and down while clinging to another boys arm.

Mr.Wayne seemed to have a look of eternal suffering etched on his face. “Yes Stephanie I'm sure, How’d you even know we were going to be here ?”

“Tim told me” The guy she was clinging to slightly grimaced while side-eyeing Mr.Wayne who was giving him a glare.

“Of course”

‘MARIBUGGGG” Dick quickly ran towards the steps and scooped her up and twirled Marinette around. Marinette couldn’t help but clutch to her supplies for fear of dropping them while giggling.

“Hi Dick,really happy to finally be here” She hugged him back, while he put her back down. Suddenly Dick was abruptly shoved away

“My Turn” Suddenly Marinette was engulfed in by a blonde tornado.

“Steph you’re suffocating her let her goooo” The guy Tim said as he was approaching them.

“But shes to adoranble~” the blonde said, still holding Marinette captive. Why was it always the Blondes who tried to kill her?

Oblivious to her plight her parents went on ahead and greeted Bruce and Dick who had to stumble back to Bruce's side after being viciously shoved.

“Bruce I want to say a huge thank you, We can’t wait to get Marinette situated and head back to Paris,” Sabine said making sure to quickly shake his hand and giving Dick a quick hug.

“Ha, I swear all three of us eventually dozed off on the flight,” Tom said while moving to do the same.

After a few more seconds Stephanie finally released Marinette.

“Oh gosh, you’re too adorable for words~ My name is Steph” Wait did Bruce have a second daughter? Marinette thought he only had one other daughter, Cassandra?

“Are you another one of Bruce's kids?”

“What!? Oh gosh,you’ve only been here for a few minutes and you already recognize that Bruce has an adopting problem, pfft luckily I am not one of those poor suckers. I am just here to eternally annoy them plus I’m besties with Cass, Bruce’s other daughter” Stephanie explained.

She quickly pulled Tim towards them. “This is one of those poor suckers, Marinette this is Tim Drake, He’s constantly sleep-deprived and suffers from severe caffeine addiction”

“It's not severe”

“Yet”

Marinette couldn’t help but snort. Being a Fashion designer/superhero/ highschooler, Marinette has learned how to make a dang good pot of coffee. Also how to tell if she’s hallucinating or not from lack of sleep. Seriously there was this one incident where she was seeing hamsters take over the school's library, there was also that one time where she saw a mob of pigeons chase a man, but that turned out to be pigeon man who got akumatized again.

“A fellow addict, nice to meet you,” Marinette said.

Stephanie suddenly started looking at two before seemingly coming to a startling revelation

“ OH GOD, THERE'S TWO COFFEE ADDICTS NOW!!!” She yelped. She suddenly scurried away in a desperate attempt to call Alfred and warn him about the new incoming addict.

Dick glanced down and noticed that Marinette dropped a few of her pens and markers. He knelt to pick them up quickly he handed them to Marinette.

“You like to draw?” He asked giving her another quick hug

“Yeppers I mainly focus on designing outfits and making them as well, where’d you think your jackets came from?”

“ No way, I thought you bought them!!! I love mines and I know for a fact Bruce loves his.”

“Well yeah I make a lot of my clothes, I have a website where I sell some of the clothing, I also do commissions” suddenly Dick was once again shoved away.

“MDC!!” Tim exclaimed

Marinette jumped back a few steps before suddenly realizing that he was a fan.

“M.D.C are your initials, I knew I recognized the Jacket from somewhere”

“Yep based off another Jacket I sold on My website, except some of the detailing is different”

“You’ve gotten recognition from Audrey Bourgeois and Gabriel Agreste,” Tim gawked. Dick was busy grumbling complaints “What is it with you two and shoving me”.

Marinette quickly went over to help him up. She quickly got one of her suitcases and opened it up pulling out a few articles of clothing. Quickly she handed Tim his jacket, and since she wasn't aware of Stephanie's existence she settled with Handing her a Trench Coat since it was cold.

Stephanie immediately shed her current coat and shoved it at Tim to hold. She put on the trenchcoat and admired the embroidered birds around the sleeves.

“Oh my gosh, you have such a good eye”

Stephanie immediately shed her current coat and shoved it at Tim to hold. She put on the trenchcoat and admired the embroidered birds around the sleeves.

“Well duh kinda necessary” Marinette teased

“Wait you didn’t bring any of your supplies?” Dick responded, noticing that Marinette didn’t bring Big enough suitcases to carry some of the bigger sewings and designing supplies.

“Well, we had to kinda leave in a rush so…. I didn't have enough time to pack some of the bigger supplies”

“I have an idea! We can go around Gotham and buy some of the supplies!” Dick suggested.

“Maybe on the weekend Dick, We gotta take her to the manor and let her and the Dupain-Chengs meet the rest of the family,” Bruce noted joining them. Honestly, though Bruce was more worried about a certain butler ripping him a new one for taking so long to introduce him to his newest granddaughter.

College Francis Dupont Paris, France 8:30 a.m

People walking into Bustiers Class couldn’t help but be disconcerted at all the empty seats the next day. They all decided to sit on the right, some glancing at the empty seats on the left.

Lila finally walked in and with the flip of her hair, she strolled straight and made sure to take a seat next to Alya. Right in Marinette's old seat. It was odd seeing someone else sit there. Eventually Madame Bustier walked in and only took a momentary pause upon seeing the small class size.

Adrien slowly walked in and lightly jumped at the new class size. He took his usual seat next to Nino. However, it wasn’t too long before he felt a tap on his shoulder. Both he and Nino turned to face Alya and Lila.

“Hey, Adrien you mind switching seats with me? I wanna sit to Nino” Alya announced. Adrien, however, didn't miss Nino’s slight grimace. However, Lilas's look of pure hopefulness was the thing that made Adrien slightly grimace as well.

Regardless of how Adrien felt he knew he had to say yes.

“Sure”

Meanwhile in Mendelievs….

“I call dibs on sitting next to Kagami!!!” Chloe loudly exclaimed and made a mad dash towards the empty seat next to Kagami.

Nathaniel immediately moved to sit next to Marc. Sabrina sat next to Juleka. Ivan decided to sit next to Max. At first, it was a slight adjustment getting used to Mendelievs class, she taught and had control over her class. No way was she going to permit and outburst or arguments when she taught. However, she did permit them to talk whenever she was done teaching.

“Marinette just quit ?” Probed Aurore. She was furious at the fact that Marinette was essentially driven to quitting.

“Yup” Chloe responded popping the p, “But now she’s staying with Family in Gotham for a bit, she even texted to mention how she might transfer schools and stay in the states”

“B-but sweet Marinette in Gotham, don’t they have like a gajillion crazy villains? At least the Akumas’ damage in Paris can be reversed and they're only temporary” Aurore mentioned

“Marinette is tough, plus she’ll be away from this crazy school” Nathaniel offered while finishing up a sketch for his and Marcs’ comic

“Plus Marinette said she’ll call us once she’s comfy and everything” Chloe finished.

“Poor Marinette”

Wayne Manor Gotham City, USA 9:00 a.m

Marinette knew Mr.Wayne was rich but holy cow, he makes both the Agreste and Bourgeious fortune look like pennies. She never understood how rich he was.Seriously he has a fleet of luxury vehicles in his garage. The inside of the manor looks photo-ready, AND all of his kids have gone to a 30k a year school. Thank God she was going to a Normal School.

Mr.Wayne made sure to take Maman and Papa to a luxury hotel suite to get them settled before bringing them back to the Manor. She quickly said goodbye and gave them big kisses on their cheeks.

Marinette was occupied still gaping at the giant Chandelier when suddenly she was face-to-face with two teenagers.

Dick immediately noticed that there was an awkward staring contest going on and moved in to ease the awkwardness.

“Marinette this is Cassandra shes the fourth oldest,” Dick said while introducing the two. Marinette was occupied gaping at Cassandra. She was so pretty. Cassandra took a quick step forward before quickly putting her hand on Marinette's shoulder.

“Cass” She gently chided.

Marinette only slightly stumbled before yanking out a sweater from her duffle bag and practically shoving it at her. Sue her she was intimidated and impressed.

“Me?” Cass was surprised. She took the sweater but couldn’t help but hold it close to her. It was so soft. Marinette made it for her, and she didn’t know her!!! Cass couldn’t help the grin that was overtaking her face. She made sure to get closer to take a long glance at Marinette who was giving a cynical Jason his own sweater, along with gloves. Nervous. jittery. uncomfortable.

“Huh, you are most definitely too sweet for this family" Jason couldn't help but coo at the sight of the petite blue-eyed girl.

"I'm Jason Todd, technically dead and black sheep of the family. Whenever you get tired or pissed at Bruce, trust me that is a guarantee, feel free to crash at my place.” He piped. While shrugging off his leather jacket and putting on his new turtleneck sweater. Holy crap was it soft.

Technically Dead? What in the world!? Are they choosing to ignore that!? Marinette was so confused. Seriously first off Cass has the biggest grin on her face and seems to be studying Marinette, Jason Todd just admitted he’s still technically dead!? Are all siblings this confusing? She’ll have to ask Luka. Seeing as he seems to be the only one in their friend group who has a sibling.

Taking a glance around the entrance. Marinette noticed that she suddenly had older siblings and even a younger one. One week was all it took. Marinette took a glance at Cass she mirrored her grin. She realized one thing.

THIS FAMILY IS INSANE!!!

And now she's a part of them. Crap.

Tag list:

@another-fan-of-anotherplan @damianette-is-life @amayakans @parallelparabox @miukiiu @valeks-princess @toodaloo-kangaroo @vixen-uchiha @thezestywalru @dreamykitty25 @souleateralicestein @thestressmademedoit

A/N:

I hope that all of you lovely peeps are staying healthy and safe. Please enjoy todays chapter. Feel free to reblog and leave a note <3.

#miraculous ladybug #mlb au #maribat #batfam #marinette deserves better #damian wayne #dick grayson #tim drake #jason todd #bruce wayne #class salt

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