#at pictures in utter confusion and then drawing the thing like 5 times
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Friends with Added Benefits (part 5)
Warnings - smut / pregnancy (this one got kinda long haha)
Taglist @queenshelby @margoo0 @being-worthy @peakyscillian @ntmynouis @janelongxox @elenavampire21 @noctvrnalmoth @ysmmsy @cloudofdisney @lauren-raines-x @namelesslosers @misscarolineshelby @screemqueen
Paul had been true to his word - he had even been an alibi for Cillian when suspicions had been raised - Cillian had fallen asleep in your hotel room one night and no one knew where he was the following morning. Paul had said he'd slept in his room that night after a few too many whiskeys.
Filming was coming to an end soon - you'd only got a week to go before it was wrapped. You hit the 12 week mark a few days earlier, and a slight bump had definitely appeared across your lower abdomen now. You had butterflies every time your fingers crossed it. You'd had your scan the day before and you and Sophie were sat looking at the photo in the canteen.
"That's it's nose I think.. and I think that's a leg. Could be an arm..." You were grinning from ear to ear, Sophie was beaming too.
"What's got you two grinning like Cheshire Cats?" Cillian's voice called over from the coffee station.
"Y/n's 12 week scan photo!! Come see!" Sophie waved it at him, and you definitely saw his face change. The smile had gone, and he cleared his throat, before making his way over.
"Soph he doesn't want to see it, it's just a grainy photo, men aren't bothered by this stuff..." You protested, but Cillian had already taken the picture and was looking at it.
"And everything is okay y/n?"
"All fine - perfect in fact."
"Good.. that's good." He looked at the photo again and handed it back to you, squeezing your shoulder slightly before walking away.
Sophie was called over to makeup, leaving you with your thoughts. You didn't want him to see that photo - he wasn't supposed to see it.
Putting the photo back in your bag, you made your way to his trailer. He'd been acting weird this last week - you'd been in his room the night before and he'd made you leave your t shirt on.. not what you expected from someone with a self professed pregnancy kink.
You didn't even knock, just let yourself in. He wasn't there, strangely, you were certain he headed this way.. turning round to head back out you spotted two boxes on the side. Pregnacare vitamins.. what was he doing with those? Beside them was a carrier bag... More vitamins, a hot water bottle, slippers, and a small baby blanket, baby vests, babygros, even a teddy bear... the trailer door opened and he was suddenly in front of you, glancing between you and the bag.
"We wrap next week, it was just a few things I picked up in town yesterday..." He took the bag from you and you couldn't help but smile.
"You didn't have to do that Cillian.."
"No I know, but I wanted to." He took his beanie hat off and placed it on the table, sitting himself on the sofa. You sat across from him on the other side.
"Are you okay Cill?"
"What? Yeah, yeah I'm fine. Are you?"
"Yes. Listen we haven't really ironed out the details of this, um, arrangement..."
"Details?"
"The legal side.. I can speak to my solicitor when I get home, make sure we're both covered? You know, the parental rights thing?"
"Oh.. yeah, just, um, just let me know what I need to do..."
"Cillian are you really okay?"
"I'm fine!" He snapped, making you jump. You stood abruptly, he'd never raised his voice to you before. His eyes cast towards the small bump under your tight t-shirt and his head fell. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry..."
"The fuck is going on Cillian?"
"I can't do this.. seeing you grow.. your body change.. it isn't doing what I expected it to do.. it isn't a turn on y/n.." his words stung, and you turned to leave, tears threatening to erupt. He grabbed your arm to stop you.
"It's not turning me on - it's making me fall."
"Fall?"
"That's my baby in there y/n.." his hand fell onto your belly, the first time he'd touched you there, he'd always avoided it, and your heart jumped.
"Cillian you said - "
"I know what I said. But that was until you showed me the positive pregnancy test. I swallowed it down, put it down to shock.. but then your body changed.. and that scan photo today... It isn't shock y/n, it's complete and utter admiration. For you."
"Cillian what are you saying?"
"I'm saying.. I want this baby. Our baby.." his hand never moved, staying on your slightly swollen bump, eyes burning into yours.
"You told me you didn't want to be involved, you didn't want a relationship, you didn't want to be tied down? This is going against everything you said and everything we agreed..."
"You think any of this is easy for me? You're having my baby and I'm not gonna be a part of his life! That's my child you're carrying..."
"Cillian..."
"You don't want me, and that's fine I'm not asking that of you, but let me be a part of his life? Please?"
"Who said I didn't want you?" He looked at you confused.
"You said -"
"We both clearly said a lot of things we didn't actually mean, didn't we?"
"You want me?"
"I think I do, yeah.."
"You think?"
"We've only ever seen each other during filming.. we have no idea how we'd actually get on outside of this set and the hotel room?"
"We can change that."
"How? I live in London, you're in Dublin..."
"It's doable y/n. We owe it to this little one to try, right?"
"We've got 6 months before the baby arrives Cillian, how the hell is this going to work?"
"Move in with me."
"In Dublin?!"
"In London. I've been looking at houses."
"I can't ask you to leave Dublin, you love Ireland..."
"Then move to Dublin?"
"What? Cillian this is crazy..."
"Come to me for three months. Move in with me, let me be there for you both. Three months, if it works we decide then what we do. If it doesn't.. well we'll cross that bridge if it comes to it. What do you say?"
"My doctors are here, my midwife..."
"Then I'll move in with you. Give me three months - that's all I'm asking?"
"What do we tell people?"
"The truth. The baby is mine. Either way, no matter how it goes with you and me, I want to be a Dad to him."
"You keep saying him..."
"Gut feeling. It's a boy. Even bought a blue blanket, see?" He held up the baby blue blanket.
"See now I think it's a girl! I bought a pink one on Amazon last week," you smiled. He cupped your face in his hands and rested his forehead on yours.
"Tell me you don't want me and I'll accept it y/n."
"I want you, I do... I'm scared of how people will react that's all.."
"Only one way to find out isn't there?"
"When?"
"Tonight, after dinner. We announce it then. I'll do it if you don't want to?" You nodded. Your eyes watering. "Don't cry on me, you'll set me off..."
"You? Crying?" You smirked.
"What can I say y/n, you've broken me." He kissed you, a different kiss than any he'd given you before. Deeper, more loving, gentler. At first anyway.. it soon became hungrier, your bodies pressing together as your clothes were removed. He paused before lifting your t shirt over your head, his eyes moving down as he lifted it up. It was one thing feeling it, but now he could see it his breath caught in his throat. He dropped to his knees, his lips pressed against your stomach, kissing it lightly.
"Okay I lied..."
"About what?"
"Fuck, I need you.. and now..." He moved over to his trailer door and locked it, before lifting your now naked body onto the counter. You'd only ever had him in the hotel room, this was way riskier - there were other crew and cast members walking around outside but neither of you cared. You cared even less when he dipped down and placed kisses along your inner thighs, opening your legs as wide as he could before drawing his tongue up your slit, your hands gripping his hair.
"You need to be quiet y/n.. you can do that yeah?" You nodded, biting your lip to stop your moans as he buried his mouth against your core, his tongue rolling against your sensitive clit sending you into overdrive. You couldn't help but rock your hips against him, your orgasm building quickly. You had to cover your mouth to stop yourself from screaming as you came over his lips, your free hand gripping the side of the table. He chuckled as you caught your breath, before lining himself up and pushing in slowly.
"That was quick, even for you..." He whispered in your ear as he filled you completely, setting a steady pace.
"You feel so good inside me Cillian..." He groaned gently into your neck, carefully thrusting so as not to generate too much sound or movement in the trailer. He lifted your knees as high as they could go, as he leaned back slightly, both of you looked down, watching his cock move in and out. He brought his hand between you and started to rub your clit with his thumb, bringing his other hand over your mouth to muffle your groans. His breathing deepened as he picked up the pace a little, your walls clenching around him as a second orgasm took over.
"I'm gonna..." he thrust hard twice before spilling inside with a gentle groan, resting his head against yours, catching his breath.
"I'm gonna get to do that every day.." he whispered, circling his nose against yours.
"Yes you are... are you sure about this?"
"I've never been more certain of anything in my life."
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Jojos Doing Jojo Things (with each other)✨😌
*sweating as the part 5 hc asks start piling up in my inbox*
*looks at the one that mentions Jonathan*
Hello~~ I’m sorry for being criminally inactive here, I forgot during that long 6 month lockdown that I actually had a real life outside of the internet and now I have to go do real life things?? Instead of doing nothing but writing?? Crimes, I tell you.
I love the idea of Jonathan interacting with all the other jojos so I thought I’d take a little break from part 5 whump headcanons to fulfill this one :D SO HERE’S SOME SELF-INDULGENT HEADCANONS ABOUT JONATHAN DOING FUN LITTLE ACTIVITIES WITH THE OTHER JOJOS BECAUSE I KNOW WE ALL NEED IT RIGHT NOW😭😭😭
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Joseph (lets say Youngseph in this case because shhh)
-Hear me out but KNITTING
-Let this man do some nice calm things please
-Joseph has absolutely no way to connect with Jonathan. Like. Nothing.
-He doesn’t see the two of them as anything alike even though they both have the star, and when it comes to connecting with such a righteous, nice dude he’s a bit :/ about it
-He also doesn’t want to do anything stupid (In his words.) He hates baking, he’s never been into reading and school, and the two can never really click with sports
-Our man Jonathan has searched his heart and soul for something to bring the two of them together but Joseph is always just not into it >:(
-He’s almost given up on connecting at all BUT—
-One thing they do have in common? Erina.
-BOOM. Johnny-boy suddenly has ideas >:)
-Joseph is really put off when Jonathan shows up with a ball of yarn and needles and in the most innocent way possible he’s like “I have something to show you ^-^”
-the first thing Joseph thinks is NO FUCKING WAY. If Caesar or his mother or anyone caught him fucking knitting he’d never be able to live it down
-So instead he just watches as Jonathan sits by the fire, and it looks really boring at first but he just starts going at it
-And of course the gears start turning and all his brain sees is “fast task?? task I can be good at? something quick my hands can do??”
-And Jonathan looks up to take a break to see Joseph perched on the edge of the chair in complete awe, but the moment he asks if he wants to know how to do it, Joseph gets really withdrawn :/
The rest of their conversation goes a little like this:
“Isn’t that meant for girls?”
“Why would hats and scarves be only for girls?”
“But its—”
“You know...I’m making Erina a matching hat and scarf for her birthday. I could use a little help with the scarf…”
“...”
“We can make it a race.”
And with a fire lighting in his eyes, Joseph accepts the contest even though he has no idea what he’s doing. But isn’t that what he does best?
-Needless to say, he becomes obsessed.
-When his greatest fear comes true and Caesar finds out, he’s too obsessed to care about the teasing
-Joseph is good at something that Caesar isn’t. Caesar is jealous. Caesar picks up knitting.
-Are knitting contests even a thing?? I don’t care because Joseph and Caesar could probably open a fucking etsy shop with all the stuff they make (and absolutely shamelessly at that)
-Anytime they meet someone new it's immediately “which hat is better?” “Joseph’s is worse, right?” “Can you start the stopwatch for us?”
-Even in his older years, he never actually stopped making things for Holy, Suzi, and even sometimes Jotaro (thought Joot wouldn’t be caught dead wearing any of it in public)
-He actually progresses past knitting and making clothes in general becomes a secret passion of his
-The hat he’s wearing in part 4? He definitely made that. And don’t even think he doesn’t send Josuke the tackiest shit in the mail
Jonathan is very proud :)
Jotaro
-Animals. Is that even a question?
-Jonathan was always more of a dog or cat person, but the moment he finds out that Jotaro’s interested in marine life? MAN GOES ALL OUT
-He not only researches the shit out of marine biology just so he can hold up a conversation with him, but he also buys A SHIT TON OF BOOKS for his favourite angst man
-We all know that Jotaro isn’t exactly a man of words, but his heart is touched when they exchange a few sentences and Jonathan shows up the next day with a book all about what they were talking about🥺
-Like—Jonathan was always scolded for never listening to his father, but when it comes to stuff like this, Jotaro swears he’s able to read his mind
-Most people can barely get him to utter a sentence, but when these two are alone they’ll talk for hours about the ocean
-Holy was actually pretty worried for a while that Jotaro rarely ever opened up to anyone, but after seeing the two of them talk it was like a weight lifted off her shoulders :)
-They go on trips all the time to study water life. First, it's just to the river a few minutes away. Then they start going out to the lake nearby, and then they’re suddenly borrowing Joseph’s private boat and going on all these “research trips” together
-Which just consist of Jotaro taking hundreds of pictures and surprisingly never shutting up about what he sees (which is definitely a first)
-They pass by snooty, rich fishermen all the time who make fun of them for only looking at the animals, and Jonathan secretly uses Hamon to attract the fish to anywhere but where the fishers are lol
-I can blame snipster on instagram for introducing me to Smiletaro but the pure happiness and smiles of happy Joot on this boat with Jonathan is like a DRUG
-Star Platinum is absolutely thrilled, and when Jonathan realizes that Star is an amazing artist, he actually buys the stand a cute little purple notebook to draw all the ocean life they come across :3
-The moment they get back to shore Jotaro’s all -_- again around people, but you can still see the excitement in his eyes if you look hard enough
-When he gets into school for marine biology, Jonathan is so fucking proud
-This is an au which means anything can happen so I formally declare that Jonathan definitely got Jotaro those golden dolphin-shaped coat pins when the man first goes off to Uni
-He wears them as a good luck charm :3
Josuke
-Josuke is soooo easy to get along with, especially since both of them are such warm people :)
-Jonathan figures that it wouldn’t be hard to find something fun to do together, but when he actually thinks about it...he really knows nothing about what Josuke likes to do
-He ends up just asking the kid next time they see each other, and they end up just agreeing to teach each other one thing the other doesn’t know
-Because the power of KNOWLEDGE BABYYY
-Josuke shows up the next day with an entire fucking Nintendo 64 and is absolutely set on teaching him how to play something
-Erina just kinda watches like 👁👄👁 as Josuke plugs it in and Jonathan is confused but also SUPER EXCITED because he barely even knows what a video is but there are also video games??
-After much internal debate, Josuke decides on Ocarina of Time because he’s worried Jonathan will have a fucking heart attack if they play something like Mario Kart
-Also he thinks Jojo would enjoy the whole “righteous hero coming of age” archetype thing because,,,you know,,,
-They start it up and immediately Jonathan is like WHAT and has no idea how to play and dies in ways that Josuke didn’t even know were possible, but they somehow make it to the first temple with a lot of help from Josuke
-Right before the boss fight, his mom pulls up like “bitch we gotta go come on” so Josuke sees no harm in leaving the system at Jonathan’s and coming back next week
-Oho,,,ohohooo,,,
-He comes back a week later to a dark house,,,Erina’s off on some trip, and he can hear the faintest “HYAH!” coming from the living room
-He walks in to find Jonathan in the exact same spot he left him, ALL OTHER SAVE FILES ARE COMPLETE, and he’s in some obscure location doing a side quest Josuke didn’t even know existed
-Turns out he’s really good at quest games
-After Josuke realizes that Jonathan’s managed to beat the game more than once, he asks if he wants to try out another game
-To which Jonathan replies: “There’s MORE?”
.
-Aside from giving Jonathan a crippling video game addiction, Josuke also learns a vital thing about Jonathan Joestar
-Hamon ^-^
-Josuke’s a little surprised that Jonathan can even see his stand, and Jonathan has no other way to explain it than that it must be connected to his Hamon somehow
-To which Josuke is like “what” and Jonathan realizes that his stupid fucking grandson decided not to tell ANY OTHER Joestar about Hamon
-He’s no Zeppeli, but he could try and teach him...even if it didn’t work, it would still be a nice bonding activity
-When Jonathan finds out that Josuke’s stand ability is revolved around healing, he’s overjoyed because he might have a better chance
-They start small with breathing exercises and meditation, which eventually lead to Jonathan trying to teach Josuke how to make things like flowers
-Since it doesn’t exactly come naturally to Josuke, things don’t exactly work out,,,but both are unsurprisingly happy when Josuke manages to make a single flower bloom :3
-It’s not much, but it’s there and it honestly makes Josuke feel much better knowing that he could eventually learn how to heal himself, too :)
Giorno
-Jonathan considered teaching Giorno Hamon a while ago, but he realized that his stand already has the properties of Hamon, if not just in a more humanoid form
-And when Jojo puts two and two together that he and his son can both grow a lot of plant life, he has the perfect idea
-Garden buddies!!!! :D
-They grow everything you could possibly think of, and to top it all off, Giorno fills the garden with all this animal life :)
-When it comes to biology, Giorno never shuts up about it. He’s the quietest kid when it comes to virtually anything else but prepare for MAJOR info dumps about frogs and his vast knowledge of flowers
-Speaking of flowers, them just sitting and growing them together and talking about all of their favourites? Yes please
-Although they love to accelerate plant growth, there’s one patch in the middle of the garden that they’re determined to grow naturally
-Also them growing and eating carambola (star fruit) together because it’s my pocket dimension that makes no sense and I get to decide what fun fruits the Joestars get to eat together
-the garden becomes a great place for picnics and outings and the best place to go when things get too chaotic
-Giorno starts a plant journal where he records everything that ends up growing there, and Jonathan starts impulse buying all these flower guide books so they can look at pictures of them and put their favourites in the garden :3
-They end up creating a little pond in the middle of everything, and Giorno puts a whole bunch of frogs and fish in it and it's all very tranquil and calm and nice :))
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I was gonna do part 6 (maybe part 7 too?) but mental energy? I don’t know her, sorry y’all :(
Feel free to add on though!! I wanna see what y’all would think Jonathan would wanna do with Jolyne or anyone else I missed :D My first thought for Jolyne was Rugby because Jonathan was a rugby KING and I feel like she’d be really good at it lmao
#jjba#jjba headcanons#jonathan joestar#joseph joestar#jotaro kujo#josuke higashikata#giorno giovanna#jojos's bizarre adventure#ask-c-c-cherry#headcanons#anime#erina joestar#family feels#long post
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Star Wars: Visions thoughts and discussion
Been on a bit of a Star Wars binge lately. Getting ready for the Book of Fett and the return of The Mandalorian soon, just finished playing the Jedi: Fallen Order game, and recently "Star Wars: Visions" dropped on Disney+ (not to be confused with the, like, half-dozen other Star Wars properties that use "Visions" as their title). If you've got the streaming service and haven't watched the series yet, I can honestly suggest you should do so. The whole thing is a series of very short episodes and is entirely non-canon to the setting, so you don't even need a hard understanding of Star Wars to enjoy it.
In fact, it's actually better if you don't know anything about Star Wars going in. Spoilers and brief episode discussion after the jump.
Episode 1: The Duel
As soon as I saw a lightsaber umbrella and a R2 droid in a hat, I knew this one was going to be a must-watch.
I REPEAT. LIGHTSABER. UMBRELLA.
Solid kick-off for the short series. Dig the aesthetic, dig the classic samurai vibe (even if it's more of an homage than a direct application of the style), dig the simple story. The particular animation style they chose here was a little wonky but I quickly got used to the visuals and loved a bunch of the design choices too much to care. This one was very action/style-focused and clearly chosen as the leading episode for that reason, which I don't fault them at all for.
Episode 2: Tatooine Rhapsody
I'm sorry, I don't recall giving Star Wars permission to be this fucking adorable, how dare you.
The tale of a Padawan survivor of Order 66 who makes a new life for himself not with the power of the Force, but with the power of Rock and Roll and Friendship. Bitchin'. Super adorable, semi-chibi art style that's honestly ringing, like, a dozen different bells in my head for trying to figure out all the different styles it's drawing from. Good fun, if a bit bland in the end. The biggest problem is the music. The story relies on "using music to save the day", which is fine. But when you use that trope you need an absolutely face-melting banger of a performance, which this just doesn't have. An enjoyable entry all the same though. Not bad, not great, cute designs; the quirky story of how Jabba the Hutt got a new slave band to play at his den.
Episode 3: The Twins
This entire episode is animated by the team who brought us Kill la Kill and that should really tell you everything you need to know.
You know how if you get a bunch of little kids together, they'll start playing make-believe games where they just invent stories and plot twists and super powers like "I have whatever you can do, but infinity plus 1 better!" shit like that? That's what this short is. It has only the vaguest allusions to the setting proper and immediately hurls every semblance of consistency, logic, and sense out the window with both hands. It is 1,000,000% style over substance.
Okay, y'know what, no, that's not enough to describe the utter insanity this episode is. All I can find online is pictures of the main villain character pulling a General Grievous impression or the protag snaring lightsaber whips on his lightsaber, but that is fucking tiddlywinks compared to where this episode goes.
There is a scene in this short where the protag, who is ghost-riding the hood of his X-Wing upside down in space without a space suit, super-charges his lightsaber into a giant rainbow of FUCK YOU GEORGE LUCAS with the power of familial love and fabulousness, using said rainbow super saber to CUT AN ENTIRE STAR DESTROYER IN HALF WHILE ACCELERATING TO HYPERSPEED, all to save his twin sister's life by making her explode in a somehow non-harmful manner.
This short is utterly nonsensical drivel and yes I would like more right the fuck now, please and thank you.
Episode 4: The Village Bride
Wait, we're actually trying to tell a reasonable story in this series? Sorry, I was still on a sugar high from the previous episode. Lemme sit down.
The Village Bride is great. Excellent short that's just dripping with atmosphere and a slow, purposeful pace to its writing. It's short and sweet with little focus on the Force-using characters themselves, which actually serves to its credit. Even in the Star Wars universe, the Ainu people can't catch a fucking break. Easily one of my favorites in the whole run.
Episode 5: The Ninth Jedi
The fact that two characters in this short have Sasuke's haircut was extremely distracting. But I actually really enjoyed this entry overall.
Despite playing extremely loose with the established lore around how lightsabers work, this episode over all others really embraces the original setting and tells a slow-burn story about the potential revival of the Jedi Order. A little meandering at times, but it's a solid piece and well worth exploring. Of all the shorts in the series, this one has the greatest potential to actually continue on as a standalone series or be folded into the canon franchise. Main protag is an adorable bean and I love her.
Episode 6: T0-B1
This episode is simultaneously a love letter to Astro Boy and a giant middle finger to Star Wars lore purists.
The tale of an imaginative Droid named T0-B1 who dreams of becoming a hero like the Jedi he's heard so many stories of. This short gets extra credit for being so unyieldingly stylish and charming. On the surface of its presentation and story choices it seems like it doesn't know anything about Star Wars lore, but it's actually packed full of some pretty deep cuts that show the folk behind it do know what they're talking about and just don't fucking care what purists have to say. The entire thing is just "Yeah, I'm ignoring your lore, but I'm doing it in a fun way that makes the setting more interesting, and I'm so genuine about it that you can't be mad at me". I can respect that. Plus the old dude in that screenshot is an armless Jedi who's retired to be a botanist and that's just fucking cool.
Episode 7: The Elder
I'm Episode 1, but better.
This one. This shit right here. This is the good shit.
I'm sure y'all have heard before that Star Wars is directly inspired by Kurosawa and samurai films in general, but The Elder really digs into that hard. Where Episode 1 styles itself after a samurai tale, Episode 7 is a samurai tale. Subdued, methodical storytelling, slow-burn pace, charming dialogue amid believable characters, and a truly intimidating villain who provokes a brief but striking duel. This is my vibe. I crave more of this. Far and away the best short of the entire series.
Episode 8: Lop and Ocho
Oh for fuck's sake, there's going to be so much porn of this bunny girl character, isn't there?
This entry is another that kind of meanders with the story it's trying to tell and plays very loose with the lore. It reimagines a lot of what we know of the Jedi/The Rebels and Sith/The Empire into a feudal faction-based conflict akin to what you'd see in a period samurai drama. Modernization and callous industry crushing the spirit of the people and breaking apart families. A decent work overall, but nothing really all that impressive in the end. It takes too long to get going and then peters out halfway through its pay-off for some reason.
Episode 9: Akakiri
The fact that I had to look up this episode's name and scenes online and still could not remember anything about it should tell you a lot.
The series ends on a downer with the dramatic tale of a fallen Jedi who sacrifices himself and succumbs to the Dark Side. Turning evil for... the greater good? Wha? Had some pretty neat visuals, but I genuinely cannot remember a damn thing about this episode or its characters. Big swing and a miss in terms of impact.
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The Mystery Shack Spooks- Part 3
For Holiday Truce 2020
Summary: Elle Fenton had hoped for a normal summer, a chance to make normal friends with people who know nothing about her crazy family, ghosts, or, most importantly, her status as a clone. But ghosts always seem to find her, even in Gravity Falls. Now the Mystery Shack is haunted by a unknown apparition with an unknown connection to Dipper and Mabel, and to Elle herself. The half ghost struggles to open up to her new friends and to find a way to help this lonely ghost.
Part 1 -> Part 2 -> Part 3(Here) -> Part 4 -> Part 5
Also on AO3 and fanfiction.net
The half ghost sat, waiting on her bed and hoping that the Shack's mysterious ghost would reappear. Sadness swirled in her heart as the scene replayed in her head- the panic, the desperation as the misty figure begged to be seen. Why did he react that extremely, that devastated? She puzzled over Dipper’s explanation. Maybe that was correct; the ghost was upset about still being unseen and unheard. But there had to be more, didn’t there? It was almost like….he was upset that Dipper and Mabel couldn’t see him specifically.
The half ghost’s frowned. The ghost…he’d been moving Dipper and Mabel’s things. He’d latched on to her because she could see him but he’d first started with moving the twins’ things and following them…. almost like he was trying to get their attention, But why?
Wait... It's me, he’d said to Dipper. Like the boy should have recognized the ghost, like he knew him. But, how could he? If the twins closely knew someone who’d died, wouldn’t they have brought up the idea that their loved one was trying to get their attention from beyond the grave?
Unless…Elle’s eyes widened. Unless they thought it was impossible for him could come back because…. The half ghost’s breath caught in her throat as pieces slid together. He…the boy had died…maybe died… in the Mystery Shack. He was about her and Dipper and Mabel’s age. His name started with a T. But…no, that’s-
Elle’s heart stopped, the realization hitting her like a ton of bricks. Back at the beginning when Dipper’s journal went missing, she’d…she’d asked who the figure was, and he’d shown the copier in the book. The Copier meaning….No, it couldn’t be…but….The ghost’s height, it…it matched Dipper’s exactly. And the brief coloration she’s seen- white and blue like Dipper’s hat and vest. Oh god, he even paced like Dipper did.
“Tyrone.” She whispered. “Oh my god. He’s Tyrone.”
No, the half ghost shook her head. No, that was impossible. It couldn’t be…he couldn’t be. A clone made out of paper, who’d been alive for all of a few hours. There couldn’t have been enough emotion, enough sense of self to form a ghost. But…the clone had helped to choose his own name, part of her argued. That required a degree of independence, a sense of himself as different from Dipper Pines. So maybe he was Tyrone. Maybe a magically created paper clone had managed to be reborn as a ghost. She bit her lip. Maybe…. maybe she should tell Dipper and Mabel her idea….
No, the girl bit her lip. She shouldn’t get their hopes up. If she was right, this would be an incredible miracle. But if she was wrong….Dipper’s wavered voice and downcast eyes as he talked about losing Tyrone rang in her head…if she was wrong, this would crush them. But maybe she could get proof.
Talking a deep breath, she stood. “Hey, if you’re here…” She looked up at the ceiling. “I think…I think I know who you are. You’re…you’re Tyrone, Dipper’s clone.”
Silence.
“Are you there?” She called.
Nothing. Elle sighed. Was he ignoring her? Or… he had used a lot of energy to make the lights flicker, float objects, and freeze the floor (Elle had ice powers so she knew how tiring that was). Maybe he didn’t have enough power to appear even to her.
“Okay. If…if you are Tyrone, can you give me some sigh? Or…show up so I can talk to you?”
No response. “Alright then. I’m gonna go to bed.”
Elle tossed and turned for a while, struggling to sleep without her answer but none came.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The half ghost girl blinked awake to sunlight streaming through her window. She groaned sleepily and went to bury her head back in her pillow when the sound of something heavy falling to the floor rang through the room. Suddenly startled, the girl sat up.
In the middle of the room and suspiciously far from any furniture was a thick, heavy book. Beside the object, a misty blue and white figure floated for a second before flickering out of existence.
“Are you avoiding me now?” The girl rubbed her eyes. “Look, I’m sorry I didn’t ask you if you wanted to see Dipper and Mabel. I probably should have and I get why you’d be upset if you’re…..” She trailed off, the lack of response deepening her frown. “Come out and talk to me, please. I…I just want to know if you are... who I think you are.”
The room remained silent, except for the flutter of paper on the desk. Stupid window must be….Elle looked to window, eyes widening. It was closed.
Heart pounding, the girl leapt to her feet. She practically ran to the desk. It was covered with the normal mix of knick knacks and school supplies but…there was a colorful piece of paper that hadn’t been there yesterday. With shaking hands, the half ghost picked the piece up. It was white cardstock covered with green pine trees, probably a Christmas themed piece from Mabel’s art and craft stock. In thick black marker, it read ‘Tyrone.’
Elle’s brain short circuited for a moment as she stared at the paper. What was…what did…how… The paper dropped through her fingers and into the desk. She whipped around, eyes hungrily searching for a blurry figure.
“Tyrone. You’re Tyrone. Dipper’s Tyrone. You’re….” She ran a hand through her hair. “I…I can’t believe this. How…how did this even happen? I mean I know how but…”
The girl blinked for a long moment as an insubstantial apparition appeared in front of her. Despite his flickering, translucent body and pale blue tint covering his figure, the ghost wore a surprisingly familiar looking appearance. As a clone, he looked almost exactly like Dipper, complete with the typical vest and hat, though Tyrone’s hat bore the number 2 instead of a picture of a pine tree.
Elle’s mouth fell open. “I can see you.”
The ghost boy frowned (frowned! As in she could actually see his mouth to see his frown!) and gave her an exacerbated look.
Elle shook her head. “No. Your face, I can actually see your face!”
Tyrone pursed his lips in confusion for a moment before his eyes widened in understanding. He opened his mouth and excited sounding static exited.
That sobered the half ghost. “Your voice still sounds like a broken TV though.”
He frowned, crossing his arms. Clearly, he was displeased. A sliver of sadness tugged at her heart too but she could actually see him!
Elle marched forward. “I mean…I wish we could actually talk with words, but I can actually see your facial expressions now! I can read your body language. I could…I could learn to read your lips or we could learn sign language…or…”
Tyrone’s eyes lit up at the last suggestion, a smile stretching across his face as he nodded enthusiastically.
The half ghost grinned. “Man you’re…you’re actually him. You’re Tyrone, Dipper’s clone.” Her eyes widened, a realization filling her with awe. “You’re a clone, like I am.”
The boy nodded but there was no shock, no surprise.
Elle stumbled towards her bed, the weight of what she’d said hitting her. She’d feared even uttering the word clone in front of Dipper or Mabel but… she’d just spit it out. The girl glanced up at the other ghost. And Tyrone wasn’t even shocked.
The half ghost put a hand on her head. “You already know. You heard me after…after I found out about the copier.”
Static buzzed for his answer, but Elle knew it was a yes. To her surprise, the conformation didn’t make her feel nervous or exposed. Instead…her core hummed with some emotion she couldn’t place.
Tyrone drifted forward, shifting in the air until he was floating crossed legged at her eyes level. He focused compassionate eyes on her. You’re like me. He said and this time she understood. Not just because that was the first thing he’d said to her that she understood. Instead….she knew the meaning. They were both ghosts. They were both clones, supposed copies of someone else but they were not alone.
Elle’s core purred in her chest and she subtly smiled. This was part of the reason he’d warmed up to her and she’d become comfortable with him so quickly. There was a connection she hadn’t recognized until now. A kinship she’d felt since….
The other clones, her first brothers were still alive. Her face fell at the thought, at the memories. Playing with tag with Tiny. Watching the clouds with Bones. Petting the cat that wandered the garden with Muscles. Sitting on the floor reading to the prime clone, Daniel.
Something cold brushed against her arm, drawing her attention. She looked up, registering the mostly insubstantial hand on her arm. She met the other clone’s eyes. ‘What?’ He mouthed.
Elle shook her head. “It’s just…I haven’t talked to another clone since…since the others were still around but…they’re all gone now. It’s just me.”
Tyrone’s eyes softened in understanding. ‘Same.’ He looked down, expression full of sorrow.
The half ghost startled at the answer before nodding. “Right. You weren’t the only one either.” There had been nine or ten others and….she paled at thought….he’d seen all them melt, barely escaping that fate just to meet his demise minutes later.
Tyrone seemed to be thinking about the same thing, a queasy look on his face.
The girl sighed. “It’s okay now.” She gave her best comforting smile. “We’re both here. We both survived.”
The other ghost blanched at the thought, looking questioningly down at his translucent body. He then pinned her with a raised eyebrow.
“Yeah, you…that. But…” Elle shook her head. “You came back. Most people don’t.”
She looked down. Very few people came back as ghosts but…. (The other clones, maybe they could too. Maybe they were out there somewhere, waiting. If one of Dipper’s clones became a ghost… a jab of jealousy…. Why hadn’t any of her clone brothers come back to her?) No, Elle forced the dangerously intoxicating thoughts down. This wasn’t about her and her lost siblings.
The corner of her lip turned up as she forced her voice to sound lite. “Besides, being a ghost isn’t that bad. You’ve got cool powers and you…uhhh…more durable than before.” The girl smiled sheepishly, unsure if she should have said that as soon as it left her mouth.
Across from her, Tyrone shivered. Then he gave a rye smile and said something equally sheepish. Elle tilted her head in question and he tried again, carefully enunciating the words. The girl watched his mouth. Was he saying ‘can’t melt now’? He repeated the words a third time and Elle was sure.
She fought not to grimace. Well….that wasn’t actually true. Ghosts could melt as she well knew but…she wasn’t exactly going to tell him that right now. Instead, she shrugged uncertainly. “Yeah. Water can’t actually hurt you now.”
The boy let out a relieved breath for a moment before his shoulder’s fell. More static exited his mouth. The half ghost continued to patiently study him until the other ghost again realized she couldn’t understand him.
With a huff, he uncrossed his legs and floated around the room, looking for something. He paused at one of the end tables as Elle came to stand beside him. The ghost boy reached for a strip of photos on the desk and then gritted his teeth as his fingers passed through. An intense look of concentration crossed his face (it reminded Elle greatly of Dipper yesterday) and he reached again. It took several tries but he managed to pick up the pictures.
Elle tilted her head. It was a line of photo booth pictures she had taken with the twins at the arcade. Tyrone pointed at the two siblings with his free hand.
“Dipper and Mabel?” She questioned.
The boy nodded. In that moment, his concertation lapsed and the pictures fell through his hand. He groaned in displeasure.
Elle bent down to take the paper, studying it. Then she looked at the other ghost again. “What about Dipper and Mabel?”
Tyrone frowned. Deliberately, he pointed at each twin. Then he shook his head, covering his ears and then his eyes.
“Oh.” Elle also frowned. “They still can’t see or hear you.”
The ghost nodded, a deep sadness in his eyes. The half ghost felt a similar sadness. Though she now knew that the ghost haunting the shack was Tyrone and could see him, he was still invisible to everyone else. He can’t show himself or talk to Dipper and Mabel. It was almost he wasn’t even here. Except that he was.
Tyrone had come back as a ghost and Elle didn’t know the true extent of his relationship to the twins. She didn’t know what he actually thought of Dipper especially. And she didn’t know what the twins actually thought about him, how they would react if he showed up again. But…
She remembered Dipper’s sadness talking about Tyrone melting, Mabel’s uncharacteristic soberness during that conversation. She remembered last night- Tyrone begging and crying in front of them. Please, it’s me. I’m right in front of you. He wanted to connect with them, didn’t he? But he couldn’t do that alone.
“We’ll figure something out.” Elle ran a hand through her hair. “But for now, what am I gonna tell Dipper and Mabel?”
Tyrone’s eyes widened, a panicked look crossing his face. He vigorously shook his head.
The girl stared at him. “Tyrone. I figured out who you are. I can actually see you. I have to tell them something.”
The ghost boy continued to shake his head exaggeratedly.
Elle raised an eyebrow. “You don’t want me to tell them?”
His voice buzzed as panicked static and she didn’t need to understand the words to know he was saying no.
The girl held out her hands. “Why not? I saw how upset you got last night. You want to talk to them. And…I think they’d want to talk to you too.” She said that last part with less certainty but it was true, right?
At some point, the ghostly clone had started pacing. He stopped to stare at her. He waved his arms, motioning to his mouth.
Elle scowled before catching. “You can’t talk to them…and they can’t see you.” Her lips turned down.
Tyrone nodded, more static popping. Some words broke through the noise. “Can’t see…how can…like not here….and….can’t break their hearts….”
“You don’t want to hurt them.” The half ghost said softly.
The boy confirmed with a nod.
Elle frowned. “But..” She started to argue.
Tyrone floated forward, holding up his hands. He closed his eyes, concentrating before he opened his mouth. “Please, wait until we figure this out.” He motioned to his still insubstantial form.
“They could help us with that, if they knew.” She argued.
He still shook his head, before biting his lip. “No, I’m…not ready…..” There was a long pause when the half ghost thought he wouldn’t say anything else. “I’m…Just a copy. Aren’t I? But….I don’t know…what will they think of me?” The last words rang with doubt and fear but somehow they were more real and solid than anything she’d heard from him.
Elle frowned, trying to make sense of the words. Except they made too much sense. She knew all the self-worth issues that came with being a clone, all the fear of people knowing what a freak you are, not being ready to face the truth. Or…maybe she was projecting what she felt on to him. Maybe he wasn’t feeling insecure because of his clone status. Maybe he was just afraid of hurting Dipper and Mabel and being physically unable to comfort them.
After long consideration, the half ghost sighed. “Alright. I won’t tell them. But we’ll find a way for them to see and hear you. And then you’ll have to face them.”
Tyrone swallowed nervously but nodded in agreement. Then he offered her a half-smile and a mouthed ‘Thank you,’ before he disappeared, leaving Elle to get dressed and go downstairs for breakfast.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Maybe agreeing not to tell Dipper or Mabel about Tyrone was a bad idea, Elle thought ruefully. The fair had come early this year and she was supposed to be having fun with the twins. Mabel was talking about their time travel adventure last year, gushing about how she won Waddles and chuckling about how Dipper kept hitting Wendy in the eyes with a baseball, to the boy’s groaning.
“Yeah, we never figured out what that time anomaly thing was.” The female twin shrugged.
“Mabel, that was us.” Dipper stated flatly.
“That’s just silly bro. Us, cause a time anomaly. Psh.” She waved her hand flippantly. Dipper rolled his eyes, exacerbated. Elle wasn’t sure if Mabel was being serious or not but before she could say anything, the other girl’s eyes widened. “Candy! Grenda!”
As Mabel ran off to meet her friends, Elle sighed, and Dipper’s smile fell. A moment later, he looked at the other teen and sighed. “So…what do you want to do?”
Elle shrugged, frowning. “I don’t know. Whatever.”
If she was honest, she wasn’t in the mood for fun, not after this morning. She was feeling blue and Dipper didn’t seem to be doing much better. Elle had noticed it as soon as she saw him at breakfast this morning. The tension in his shoulders, the bags under his sunken eyes, the way he kept wringing his hands. He looked like he had barely slept, deeply bothered by something.
“How about we go get some food?” The boy offered halfheartedly.
“Sure.” Elle agreed, her thoughts away from her friend’s sour mood.
The pair walked to one of the food trucks, ordering cheeseburgers, fries, and cans of Pit Cola. They sit down to eat at a picnic table, beside some of the older teens.
Elle listlessly picked at her food, while passively watching people pass by their table. Across from her, Dipper was in a similar mood, his eyes fixed down while he nibbled at his fries. He remained silent which was fine with Elle; she wasn’t in a talking mood today either.
If she’s been in a better mood, she might have wondered about what was bothering him and asked about it. But instead, her head remained filled with her own troubled thoughts. She couldn’t stop thinking about Tyrone who was in the Shack somewhere, still invisible. Elle sighed. She knew his name now but what did that matter? She still had no idea how to actually help him.
A blue tinted figure drew Elle’s attention away. She looked up, her frown deepening. There in the attic window was Tyrone. He was watching them with one hand on the window; even from this distance she could make out the sad look in his eyes.
“What are you looking at?” The living boy across from her asked, startling her.
Elle whipped to look at him. A moment later, she recognized the question. “Oh…our ghostly friend.” It wasn’t a lie, technically, right? “He’s in the window of your bedroom.” She looked back up and pointed, causing the boy to swivel around to see and then frowned. “Or he was.” Tyrone had disappeared in second she looked away.
“Oh.” Dipper frowned. “What was he doing?”
“Just looking out the window. Watching the fair I guess.” She shrugged, trying to sound unbothered. But she was bothered. He was watching them, with the expression of someone on the outside looking in.
Despite her efforts, the boy mostly likely picked up on the unease anyway. “He must be really lonely.”
“Yeah.” The girl nodded, putting her arms around herself. Jazz had said as much earlier and Elle herself thought that was well. She shivered. “No one being able to see and hear you must be horrible.”
Dipper swallowed. “It is. It’s awful.”
The sureness of the statement giving her pause, Elle blinked at him in surprise. “You sound...very sure about that.”
The boy’s shoulders rose, and he paled, looking like he’d been caught. Then a deep look of consideration covered his face. He looked around cautiously. “There’s a reason for that.” He lowered his voice. “We shouldn’t talk about it here.”
With that, the boy stood. He grabbed his food and Elle followed with her own food as he led her away from the picnic tables. With another cautious glance, he darted behind one of the game stales. With a food truck to their backs and the back of the stall in front of them, it formed a secluded little alley away from listening ears.
Dipper took a seat, slumping into the grass. He bit his lip, mulling over something silently before meeting her eyes. “I..I kinda know what it’s like to be a ghost.”
Elle frowned in surprise. “What?”
The boy opened and closed his mouth, searching for words. He nervously rubbed one of his arms. “I…When Bill Cipher possessed me, I got kicked out of my own body. While that demon,” His voice pitched up in anger at the word, before dipping down in sadness. “was tramping around in my body. I was just floating there. I couldn't touch anything. And no one could see or hear me. I yelled in people’s ears, waved in their faces but…nothing.” He looked at his hands. “It’s like…I didn’t even exist. I wasn’t even there, like I was a….”
“A ghost.” The girl’s eyes lit up in understanding. “It’s like you were a ghost.”
Dipper nodded. “It was horrible. I felt so…helpless. Cipher was running around, doing whatever he wanted to do to me and I couldn’t stop him. I couldn’t get anyone to help me, because they couldn’t see me. It was…one of the most horrible things that's ever happened to me.” He almost whispered that last part before shaking his head. “It turned out okay though. I possessed one of Mabel’s sock puppets to talk to her and she helped get the demon out of me.” Elle’s eyes widened at the last part, wanting to ask more about that story but Dipper continued before she could. “But the point is…I was stuck like that for a few hours and it was awful. But the ghost in the Shack…he’s been like that for who knows how long.”
Elle shook her head, considering the words. “I can’t even imagine that. Well…Well no, I can...”
The boy gave her a curious look and the girl pinched her mouth shut. She didn’t want to bring that up, not right now, not when it could lead to…other revelations but….she met Dipper’s eyes. He’d already spilled deep secrets to her. He trusted her, repeatedly, and she still remained closed off.
Elle hazarded a cautious glance at Dipper. "I...uhh….I have something to tell you about..." She rubbed the back of her neck. "About why I can see the ghost but no one else can. It's uhhh.. it's not because I've been living above a ghost portal."
The boy seemed to pick up on her somber tone, his frowning deepening. "What do you mean? Is there no portal?"
The halfa wrung her hands. "No, I mean…Mom and Dad do have a portal and it is in our basement. So I have been living above it but… I know what's not why I can see the ghost."
"Then why?"
Elle could hardly believe she was saying this, she was trying to confess this as she stammered. "I...uhh...I..umm… it's...it's complicated and weird. And...I'm … I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier but I thought...well.. it's silly but…" Her voice quieted. "Please don't be mad."
Dipper's expression softened. "Elle, it's okay. You can tell me whatever it is."
The girl took a breath and closed her eyes. She braced herself. She would say it. She was gonna actually say it and it would be fine because she could trust Dipper and he'd believe her and...She spit out the words. "I'm half ghost."
There was a long moment of silence when the other teen didn't react. Tentatively, she peaked her eyes open and took in his bewildered expression.
"What?" He finally said.
"I'm half ghost." Elle forced the words out again. "That's why I can see the Shack's ghost, 'cause I'm one too." She glanced up, meeting Dipper's still confused gaze, before looking down again. She then continued as the other boy remained silent. “So yeah...I’ve got all the typical powers. I can turn invisible.” In demonstration, her hand disappeared. “Intangible.” Her hand took on a bluish tint before she passed it into the ground. “Make ectoblasts.” Pulling her hand back up, she summoned neon green energy into her palm. “I can do ice too and float but those are….uhh...harder in this form….”
She trailed off at the end, blushing under Dipper’s slack jawed stare. The girl bit her lip. Had she gone too fast? Should she have explained better? Should she transform? No that was a stupid idea. This was stupid idea. Stupid! She just broke her friend. He probably thought-
“You’re a ghost.” Dipper’s uncharacteristically quiet voice cut through her growing panic. “You’re a ghost. I can’t believe this.” His voice was quickly growing in volume as he spoke faster. “In the Shack, right under our noses the whole time. You told me...you told me your parents are ghost experts. And...you’ve gone through the ghost portal.... Earlier, I thought I saw your eyes glow like that.” His eyes flickered between her face and her still lit hand as he pointed. “You’ve really a ghost which means you’re…” His speech slowed as his eyes widened, shining with sadness. “You’re dead.” He practically leapt to his feet, waving his arms. “You’re dead. You’ve been dead this entire time. You’re-”
“Dipper! Stop!” Elle cut the boy off as she rose to her feet and extinguished her ectoenergy. She grabbed one of his arms. “I’m not dead.”
The boy suddenly stopped, jaw falling again. "But.. you just said you were a ghost."
"I'm half ghost." She corrected pointedly.
"Half ghost?" Dipper questioned.
Elle blew out a breath at her friend's lingering confusion. “Yeah, Half ghost and half human. I’m a...human-ghost hybrid.” She ran a hand through her hair. “I am a ghost but I’m a human too. And…. I’m not dead…”
The boy continued to study her, his expression equal parts confused and distressed. “But...how can you be both? Ghosts are the spirits of dead people and you’re…” He looked down at her hand that was still around his wrists. “You’re solid and warm and..you’re breathing but…” He pulled away. “Are you possessed? Is this you trying to tell me you’re possessed because if you are-”
Elle cut him off again. “Dipper, I’m not possessed. These are my powers.” Again, she demonstrated, deliberately turning a hand invisible. “See. I’m doing this. There isn’t a ghost controlling me. It’s just...this is just me.” The boy said nothing, staring at her hand. Elle bit her lip. “Maybe….I should transform. That might help you understand.”
Dipper’s eyes flickered back up to her face. “Transform?”
“Yeah uhh...into my ghost form. Since I have a human form.” She motioned down her body. “And a ghost form.”
The boy nodded, seeming to follow what she was saying even if the blank look suggested he still had no idea what she meant.
Elle took a step back. “Okay. So...there’s this light that's gonna form around me and I’ll change. You...uhh...might not want to look directly at me. It’s bright.”
With another nod from the other teen, the half ghost summoned the ring of light. Dipper’s eyes widened at the sight and remained fixed even as the light moved across Elle’s form. The light passed Elle’s head, stealing the breath from her lungs. A moment later, the familiar chill and weightlessness enveloped her, leaving the girl floating in ghost form a few inches above the ground.
As Dipper hadn’t looked away, he squinted at her, blinking the spots from his vision. After what felt like minutes but was really seconds, he focused on her face again. “Elle?” He took a tentative step forward. “Is that really you?”
The girl nodded. “Yeah. I know I kinda look different but… it’s still me.”
The boy took another cautious step forward, the shocked look on his face morphing into awe. “Wow. You do look so different.” Elle frowned, shifting nervously in the air. Dipper shook his head, noticing her reaction. “No, I mean...you look so different from the other ghost I’ve seen. You’re not see-through at all. You look solid…” He reached a hand forward. “Can I...uh… touch you?”
The girl blushed. “Uh...sure?” She put an arm forward and let Dipper take it.
His eyes lit up. “You are solid but...you’re so cold.” His lips turned down. “And you’re not...you’re not dead?”
Elle shook her head. “No. I even still have a heartbeat in this form. Here if you press down on my pulse point, you should feel it.”
With a hum, the boy did so. Slowly, he smiled, his voice ringing with relief. “You do.”
“Yeah.” Elle gently removed her arm from his grasp. “So not dead. Or half dead. Or anything like that.”
Dipper blinked. “But then how...how are you like this?”
The girl paled. “Well that’s...that’s complicated.” She bit her lip, again shifting nervously.
The other teen stepped back. “Oh...sorry. Sorry if that’s personal. You don’t have to tell me.” Clearly he’d picked up on her discomfort but despite the words, Elle could still see the pure curious interest in his eyes.
The half ghost sighed. “No...I wanna tell you but...it’s hard to talk about and…”
Dipper’s expression softened. “It’s okay.”
Elle shook her head. “I’ll just say...I was in a bad place with a bad person. That bastard. I was…I was an experiment to him. He hurt me and…” She swallowed. “And other people too.” She clenched and unclenched her fists, thinking about the other clones. “He tried to get me to help him. I...I should’ve died. I should be dead.” Dipper’s eyes widened in alarm at the statement but she continued. “I almost died but...Danny saved me.” A small smile spread across her face at the statement.
“Danny?” The boy raised a brow. “You mean your brother?”
The half ghost blinked, realizing what she said. “Yeah...I guess I should mention….Danny’s half ghost like me.”
“Your brother’s...half ghost?” He put a hand on his head. “But how..wait, is this genetic or something?”
“Or something.” Elle shrugged, trying to avoid the topic. “Anyway, Danny’s half ghost too and he saved my life. He got me out of that place or...guess we helped each other escape really. But still...I would have probably died that day without him.” Her face fell at the last part, remembering Vlad’s hate filled face, how the man would have driven her to the point of destabilization if Danny hadn’t refused to fight her. She swallowed. “And...I got really sick after that.” She shivered, the memory of her body numb and dripping green fashed in her mind. Those dark, cold nights when her body was threatening to fall apart and she’d feared that she’d died there on the streets. But- “Danny found a way to make me better. He...he saved me. He saved my life, again. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for him.” In more ways than one, she thought almost ruefully. But she smiled fondly anyway.
Dipper frowned for a long moment, taking in all she said. “Wow, that’s...that’s a lot. That sounds really awful.”
“Yeah. It sucked.” Elle rubbed the back of her neck. “But everything’s okay now.” Which was true for the most part. “I’m healthy. That fruitloop is out of my life. I’ve got an incredible family and…” She smiled very deliberately at Dipper. “I finally have friends.”
The boy blushed at the attention, though he also smiled. “Yeah, friends. And...I’m happy things are better for you know.”
Elle sighed, feeling happiness at his agreement along with a sense of relief. She’d shared the barest hint of all she’d gone through but it felt good to say at least a portion of it. Although...she looked back at Dipper who was looking at her thoughtfully.Her stomach flopped as she wondered what he was thinking.
“You’re taking this well.” She said, slightly skeptically. “But...I guess you’re kinda used to the paranormal.”
Dipper raised a brow. “I don’t think there’s any getting used to your friend secretly being a supernatural creature.”
“Part supernatural creature.” She snorted. “So….do you have any more questions?”
“Do I? Well…”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dipper of course had dozens of questions for the newly revealed halfa. After posing several questions about her powers and requests to demonstrate, Elle turned human and asked to go somewhere more secluded. The pair made their way away from the field hosting the fair and into the woods, far enough to not be seen by any of the townsfolk but close enough to easily find their way back to the Shack.
Elle demonstrated her powers and the two talked more about the Ghost Zone and ghosts. Dipper even learned about Elle’s superhero alter-ego and Phantom’s real identity . Again, it was nice sharing the truth with someone. The boy wasn’t angry that she’d waited or distrustful of her. Instead, his enthusiasm and wonder was infectious, lifting her spirits. He clearly thought what she was, what she could do was wondrous and incredible, not weird and inhuman. In an odd way, it reminded her of her dad and the child-like wonder he exhibited when talking about ghosts. The man had worn similar expressions when watching either of his two half ghost children display their powers. The reaction made her literally glow with happiness. Until…
“Hey, Elle.” Dipper put down the journal he’d been jotting down notes in. “Thanks for showing me all this. I could tell how nervous you were earlier about telling me so...thank you for trusting me with your secret.”
And just like that, an underlying tension surged. She’d shared a secret but not her biggest one, not about her origin as a clone. Her stomach flopped. She could tell him about that now, right?. He accepted her being a halfa; learning that she was a clone too wouldn’t change that. But…doubt stabbed in her heart. It would change the way he saw her. He’d know that she was not a real person but a fake, a copy, a hateful voice whispered.
No, Elle shook her head. She wasn’t those things. She’s been over this again and again, reassured by her family. She was a real person, her own person.
“Come on.” Dipper interrupted her thoughts. “Let’s head back to the fair.”
“Oh, yeah. Sure.” Elle shrugged, returning to human form.
The boy led her back to the field, stopping as they cleared the trees. “Do you want to play some games?” He pointed. “I’m pretty good at balloon darts.”
“Let’s do it.” The girl agreed.
With that, the pair of friends walked to the stall and played the game. All the while, Elle’s thoughts tumbled her head. She really should tell him about how she really got her powers and....She watched Mabel walk by with her friends...She needed to tell the other girl as well. Elle frowned. Well, one thing at a time then. She’d talk to Mabel about being half ghost and then...figure out what to do next.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
About an hour later, Mabel joined back up with Elle and Dipper. “Candy and Grenda had to leave so I’m back!” She grinned. Then she wiggled her eyebrows. “Did you two have fun?”
Elle raised a brow at that tone; what exactly was she implying?
Dipper either didn’t pick up in the expression or chose to ignore it. Instead he excitedly said. “Yeah! Mabel you won’t believe what Elle-”
The half ghost elbowed the boy in the side, cutting him off. “Dipper.”
“What?” He shrugged, slightly confused and slightly incredulous. Elle gave him a pointed look and a moment later, understanding dawned on his face. “Oh, right. I guess you should tell her yourself.“
“Tell me what?” Mabel questioned.
Elle bit her lip. “More like show you. Let’s...let’s go somewhere private.”
Without further questions, the group went back to the area in the woods where Elle and Dipper talked earlier. Once they arrived, the half ghost turned around to face her two friends.
“So...I’m half ghost.” She started, already cursing herself for not deciding to tell both twins at the same time. Really, why did she keep doing this? It wasn’t that she didn’t like or trust Mabel so why...
She pushed the idea out of her head to focus on explaining and showing off her powers. Much as she had with Dipper, she gave a very vague explanation of why she was half ghost and the awful things that happened before she was stabilized.
“I’m sorry that happened to you.” Mabel said, after she finished.
With a huff, the girl touched down on the ground. “Yeah..it was really bad but...I came out okay.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “And like I said, Danny helped me.”
The other girl’s expression softened. “He sounds like a good brother.”
Elle nodded. “He really is.” That was true, no matter the complicated feelings she had about being his clone.
“Are you two close?” The halfa rose a brow Mabel’s question and the other girl continued. “The two of you have the same powers and all the stuff you went through together? I know with all the crazy stuff that happened last summer, all the times I had to save Dipper’s butt.”
“Hey!” Said boy gave a somewhat indignant cry. “You saved my butt? I saved your butt!”
Mabel glared at him without heat. “We saved each other’s butts. But anyway...we got closer, after everything that happened.”
Dipper lowered his pointed finger. “You’re right.” His expression turned fond. “We did.”
Elle glanced between the brother and sister, fondness entering her heart at the thought of her own living siblings. “You’re right. Danny and me are close. Well...I’m closer to him than Jazz anyway. Some of that is being half ghost.” Though some was, she had known him longer than she had known Jazz. “He got his powers first so he’s taught me things. And all the stuff that happened with the fruitloop…” She bit her lip. “I know he’ll always have my back.” Elle shook her head; she could say more, a lot more. Her relationship with the older teen was complicated. “I mean...he sometimes drives me nuts and...” This was saying a lot from a clone. “I wonder how the heck we’re even related.”
That earned a laugh from Mabel. “Same. I mean, brothers?” She jabbed a thumb at Dipper. “What are you gonna do with them?”
The mentioned boy rolled his eyes. “I love you too.”
His sister stuck out her tongue and Elle giggled.
The halfa then shrugged. “But yeah….I guess the point is...it’s not always perfect. But Danny’s my big bro. I don’t know what I’d do without him.”
There was a pause as Elle let the statement settle and the silence stretched. From the fond looks the pair of twins traded, the half ghost was sure each thought the same of their respective sibling even if neither was going to say it out loud. Granted, Elle wasn’t sure how much of that said she would say to Danny out loud but...maybe she should. Maybe after this, she’d call Jazz and Danny and thank them for encouraging her to trust Dipper and Mabel. She’d tell the two how much she loved them.
Speaking of trusting….she did have more to tell them but…
“Elle! Can you show us your ice again?” Dipper grinned excitedly.
Mabel beamed similarity. “Can you make snowballs?! Oh, can we have a snowball fight?”
The halfa laughed, forming a snowball in her hands. “I don’t know…” She threw it at Mabel and smiled. “Can we?”
A shocked expression crossed the girl’s face before she shrieked with laughter. “No fair. Me and Dipper need snowballs too!”
With that, the half ghost made a pile of snowballs. As the three had a snowball fight in the middle of the summer, Elle was again happy that she told her friends about her powers and she could share this with them. There was still that little secret about being a clone which kept rearing its head. But for now…. Elle laughed as a snowball hit her in the back.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
After the impromptu snowball fight, the group went back to the fair. Elle looked side to side; there were noticeably less people around and many of the game and food stalls were closed.
Mabel frowned. “I guess we ended up talking for a long time.”
“Sorry you didn’t get to see much of the fair.” Dipper said.
“That’s okay. I still had fun with you guys.” Elle shrugged.
The twins both smiled at the statement. Mabel then waved. “Come on. Let’s ride the Ferris wheel before they close.”
The three got in line for the ride and soon after loaded onto one of the cars. The group happily chatted. As they rose higher, Dipper and Mabel oohed and awed at the sight. Elle looked around with considerably less awe. The sight was beautiful but she could see it all time she liked; she could fly of her own power after all. But still she smiled, enjoying her friends’ reactions.
That is...until she looked through one of the windows of the Shack and again, saw the misty form of Tyrone. Her smile fell; there he was in the window again, watching, waiting and probably hoping she’d come up with a way to make him fully visible and audible. Guilt wrapped around Elle’s heart; she’d forgotten about him all day, too busy hanging out with Dipper and Mabel and thinking about herself. She’d been worried about telling them about her status as a clone but there was another clone to worry about. She still needed to figure out how to tell them about Tyrone. But how to have that conversation, that definitely painful conversation that Tyrone didn’t want to have yet?
“Look! It’s the water tower!” Mabel grabbed her arm and pointed, drawing Elle out of the train of thought.
The halfa tilted her head. “Is that a muffin painted on the side?”
Dipper waved exaggeratedly. “That’s what I said!” The boy crossed his arms. “Robbie says it’s an explosion, though.”
“An explosion?” Elle raised a brow. “Huh? I can kinda see it.”
The boy’s mouth fell open and his nose wrinkled. “Traitor.” He muttered.
At that, Mabel laughed. “I think Elle’s right. It does look like an explosion.”
The two girls continued to laugh at the other teen’s offended expression. More quips were traded as the Ferris Wheel spun around. After several minutes, the ride ended. The trio walked around the fair for a while as the sun set before going back to the Shack after the fair closed.
As soon as Elle walked into the living room, her ghost sense stirred in his chest before exiting her mouth. She crossed her eyes, looking at the blue mist.
“What was that?” Dipper asked, apparently having noticed.
“Ghost sense. I guess...our friend’s around.” She frowned. “I don’t see him though. I’ll just…” She looked side to side. Seeing no one around, she summoned the rings. “I’ll look for him.”
Elle half-smiled, enjoying the twin’s awed looks at her transformation. But she was still worried about the ghost she’d sensed. After that conversation this morning, he’d been alone all day and based on glimpses, Tyrone had been watching the going-ons at the fair. She sighed as she phased through the ceiling, wondering what she’d say when she found the ghostly clone. And what would she tell Dipper and Mabel?
In quick succession, she invisibly flew through the house, searching. Where was he? Her core pulsed with the familiar cold of sensing another ghost. But there was no mist, no semi transparent figure. Where was Tyrone?
Five minutes later, Elle returned to her friends.
“Did you find him?” Dipper asked hopefully.
The half ghost shook her head. “No..I sensed him a few more times but he’s nowhere to be found.”
“Oh.” Dipper seemed to sober at that. “Do you think he’s still upset about last night?”
“Maybe…” Elle’s stomach flopped at the idea. Maybe he was still upset. It wasn’t like him, just disappearing. Again she worried. Was he moping? Avoiding her? Avoiding the twins? “Maybe he...he doesn’t want to see any of us.”
That was kinda hard to believe but...with how upset he got seeing the twins, how he didn’t want to tell them about his true identity...maybe he didn’t want to see them. And her….what exactly were they gonna talk about after that bombshell?”
Mabel frowned. “What do we do now?”
Elle swallowed. "I guess...he’ll show up again eventually.”
“And we keep researching.” Dipper said, eyes downcast. “I wish we could do something.”
Guilt churned in her gut as part of her whispered, she could do something. She could tell Dipper and Mabel that the ghost was Tyrone but… the ghostly clone’s uncertain and distraught face flashed in her mind. Would it be more painful for him if the two knew but he remained unseen and unheard? Won’t he be angry if she told them without his permission?
Heart aching, Elle remained silent.
#Danny Phantom#gravity falls#holiday truce#holiday truce 2020#dp holiday truce#dani phantom#elle phantom#Elle Fenton#dipper pines#mabel pines#clone angst#My fic
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Left to Ruin Chapter Seven
Summary: Nouke and her family struggle with life in exile. When her mother show’s signs of falling ill, Nouke tries to find away to save her.
Previous Chapters
Word Count: 4087
Warnings: None
Tag List: @xmxisxforxmaybe, @r-ahh-mi, @theultraviolencefan, @hah0106, @rami-malek-trash, @diasimar, @sherlollydramoine, @flipper-kisses, @ivy-miranda-2390, @txmel, @sunkissedmikky, @concentratedsassandcandy, @babyalienfairy, @edteche2
(Let me know if I missed you, or if you would like to be added to the tag list)
A/N: Alrighty, so timeline wise, by the end of this one we are caught up to where Ahk was the last we saw him in chapter 5 (about a week or two after he’s sent all of his potential brides away)–hopefully that’s not confusing. And as always thank you for your comments, likes and reblogs of last chapter! Also, a couple of you have messaged me about the moodboards and you have no idea how happy those messages made me. I’m so glad you’re enjoying the story, and the totally self-indulgent moodboards. I welcome messages like that! 🥰 You guys rock! Once again as a disclaimer, I am not an ancient Egyptian expert and google only knows so much. So yeah, I took so historical liberties while writing this to make my life easier, but tried to keep it as “authentic” as possible
Years spent among the common people—hours spent cultivating land—was no better, nor was it worse than Nouke thought it would be. There was no extravagance; every day was the same as the last, and the labor was the hardest she ever recalled doing. Each night her body ached, her skin grew rough with callouses and darker from the unyielding sun. And despite it, Nouke felt there was a sense of dignity to all that her family did on their farm. Every effort made was to better themselves versus a lifetime of work to better someone else. Mornings were early and the work was hard, but it could have been worse.
She still had her mother and her father—her life—despite the toil they all had suffered. All things considered, everything lost or gained; it was her family that mattered the most to her, and she still had them.
Nouke thrived on that routine and for five years life was truly blissful.
The workday was drawing to a close, Nouke could tell by the dull ache beginning to settle in her feet and back. It had been abnormally hot, and her skin was sticky from hours of sweat creating a protective film over her flesh. She wanted nothing more than to wash up for the evening and rest.
She and the two stable boys were finishing up with the livestock in the lower part of their dwelling when a cry came from out in the field. Immediately, Nouke dropped her sack of feed and ran to investigate, finding her father doubled over and clutching his abdomen in pain. Nouke gasped and ran to his side.
“Father!” Concern rapidly contorted her face as she knelt beside him, cradling his head as he writhed, the shock forcing her into a momentary state of paralysis. “What’s wrong?”
The strain on his face was evidence enough for her to know he was in pain. She watched helplessly as Ramentukah opened his mouth to speak, only for strangled grunts to form in place of his words.
Worry settled deeper, and suddenly her own aches were forgotten. Nouke called for the farmhands to help her father up the stairs and inside. They were quick and strong, easily positioning themselves to support her father's weight.
“Thank you,” her father choked out, doing his best to walk with them.
Nouke helped guide them as best she could, scaling the staircase backward skillfully, shouting for her mother.
“I’m fine, Nouke,” Ramentukah assured her with a weak smile.
She could still see the pain in his features, and it made her own concern even more apparent.
“What happened?” her mother spoke, her expression a mirrored image of her daughters concern.
“He fell over. He’s in pain mother,” Nouke told her.
Maketatan rushed to help guide her husband into the room where the three of them slept on separate mats, gently laying Ramentukah on his. She never strayed from his side, lulling him and brushing the rough strands of hair from his face with one hand as she held his in her other.
Nouke dismissed the boys back to their chores and thanked them for helping. She lingered in the doorway for a moment, feeling somewhat helpless as she watched her mother fuss over her father. She could feel the onslaught of tears beginning to brew behind her eyes, but she held them back, taking a moment to steady her composure.
“We need to get him to a healer,” she said softly, stepping into the room.
Maketaten nodded, but frowned, “We don’t have money for a healer.”
“What about the money we’ve put away?”
“Not enough.”
Nouke’s frown fell deeper as she searched her mind for a way to help her father.
“Some of the crop will be ready for the market come the week's end,” she stated. “Perhaps that will bring in enough to add to what’s been putting away?”
On a good day, they made a significant sum at the market—which alone could help buy her father the care he obviously required. But that was only if they could sell every bushel for the price they asked. Most people liked to barter lower.
After a moment of thought, her mother nodded.
“It could be enough,” she said, still sounding unsure.
Maketaten’s focus fell from her daughter to her husband as she dabbed at the droplets of sweat dotting his forehead with a piece of clean linen. Even through his pain, Ramentukah held his wife in his gaze, as though she were the only person in the world—a creature of astounding beauty. And her mother looked at him much the same.
Nouke watched them quietly, the love and admiration radiating from them filling the small space with warmth as well as a sadness that made her heart heavy.
“Hold on, my love,” Maketaten murmured, kissing the back of her husband’s hand. “You mustn’t leave me yet. I will not let the gods take you.”
A soft, strained chuckle rasped past Ramentukah’s lips as he smiled up at his wife, bringing her hand closer so he could lay a kiss to it.
“I could never, truly, leave you,” he rasped.
Tears welled in Nouke's eyes, overcome with the radiance of their love, suddenly feeling as though she was imposing. She left her parents in search of distraction, letting them have that moment to themselves. Her feet carried her back outside and down into the stable, though she could hardly recall the journey. There was so much to be done still, yet the knots in her stomach kept her mind from focusing on much else. Mechanically, she picked up the sack of feed she’d abandoned and willed herself not to think about whatever malady had stricken her father.
Three days—She reminded herself as she worked. Three days of heavy routine, a trip to the market and back. Three days and she could get her father the help he needed. Just three.
It was the longest three days of Nouke’s life; every moment spent hanging by a thread. Never had she worked so hard towards a goal that never came to pass.
At dawn on the third day, before she’d woken to ready the cart to take to market, Nouke was pulled from her sleep by the sounds of her mothers crying. An emptiness fought to consume her when she heard those sobs; she knew what they meant. Her father passed in his sleep, holding his wife’s hand.
Nouke laid frozen with grief, shedding silent tears until bottling up the raging emotion to be expressed later. She needed to be strong; her mother’s grief would be worse than her own. Maketaten's love for her husband had the potential to destroy her upon his death—Nouke couldn’t let that happen. Such a notion made Nouke wonder if loving someone so deeply was worth the inevitable heartache—would she ever know? She hoped so. Her mother and father were so happy together.
Maketaten refused to let go of her husband's hand for hours despite all of her daughter's gentle coaxing. Her mother’s devastation was even worse than she would have imagined.
“Okay…” Nouke conceded easily, kissing her mother on the temple before she stood.
A sharp pang of woe stabbed into her as she took in the picture of her mother and father. The sight made her heart break even more, and she wasn’t sure if it was due to the loss her mother was feeling or her own. Nevertheless, tears started to breach the cold façade she’d built to guard her mother as she realized the money they’d saved would now be needed to cover a modest burial, and Nouke would have to see to it all. Her mother was not strong enough with grief crippling her to organize such formalities.
On the day Ramentukah was laid to rest, Nouke was certain she had never seen someone more inconsolable then her mother. The priest did little more than utter one or two blessings; her father’s coffin was a simple wooden box that she herself painted with blessings to see him into the afterlife. The farmhands dug the plot themselves, and they helped to lay her father in the ground where his body would remain for the rest of time.
It was simple and somber, and not nearly enough for a great man like her father. However, Nouke also knew that Ramentukah would be happy to rest on the farm he had built for them—with his family forever until they joined him in death. And that notion was enough.
In a matter of days, the routine Nouke had come to master significantly shifted. With their money all but spent, they had to dismiss the farmhands in their employ, unable to provide for them as well as herself and her mother. Nouke could only devote so much time to the land to make a truly lucrative harvest; her mother needed her care. And while her mother did her best to assist in the field with chores, it was simply too much for her to keep up with.
Maketaten’s spirit was amiss, and Nouke could not bring herself to lay blame upon her. She had to be strong for her mother. Not once in those initial months following her father’s death did Nouke ever let on how much her bottled-up stress and grief was ripping away at her from the inside—screaming to be set free. Nouke knew if she let her mother see her break, Maketaten would slip back into the void she was trying desperately to climb out of. She refused to be the reason her mother suffered any more pain.
Her only release came when the sky was as black as the emptiness her father’s death had left, and after her mother was sleeping. Nightfall was when Nouke could sneak away to the rooftop of their home and nestle herself among the makeshift bedding, clutching cushions to her chest as she let her emotions spill until her eyes were bloodshot and every last nerve in her body was frayed.
It took years before life started to resemble a fraction of what they’d once had. Time, Nouke feared, would never truly heal the pain her mother endured, but as the seasons passed, Maketaten’s grief let go of more of her.
The farm survived too, be it out of Nouke’s own stubbornness to not let it fail after the work her father had put into it, or simply the fear of what would become of she and her mother if they lost anymore. It was a strenuous undertaking for only the two of them, but Nouke knew there were few choices.
“Maybe it’s time I marry…” Nouke thought aloud as she and her mother were finishing up their work in the stable.
Her own face twisted, the taste of her words sour. The notion was not a sudden revelation; it was something Nouke had sacrificed many nights of sleep to mull over. Marriage offered stability as well as another hand to help: more crops meant more income. It seemed such an easy and logical solution to their struggles, but it remained the most daunting.
There’d been a few men who’d taken a fancy to her and come calling. Both were farmers—able men who would take easily to the work the farm required. But they lacked something that Nouke could never place each time she was with them; they had no spark, and she doubted she could live happily with someone like that.
Maketaten cast her daughter a look of disbelief, mouth popping open, as though she wanted to rebuttal but couldn’t find the words.
Nouke ignored her mother’s shock and continued her reasoning, unsure if it was for her mother’s benefit or her own.
“We could use another hand, mother. And we can’t afford to pay anyone.”
A series of emotions drifted onto her mother’s face, each one turning her lips into a deeper, more shameful frown.
“I am sorry I am not more help, Nouke.”
“That’s not what—” Nouke sighed, immediately regretting having brought up the topic. “It’s not that you haven’t been a help—you have. We need stability. We are barely getting by.”
Maketaten sighed too, her expression one of sorrow.
“It was never your father and I’s wish to marry you off for the prospect of stability—stability is built, not bought.” Her expression softened, and Nouke could almost see her mother slipping into a fond memory before she spoke again.
“I, unlike so many others, was promised to no one. I met your father, and we fell in love. Only with love can one truly prosper.”
Nouke felt a tug on her heartstrings seeing the wistful expression take hold of her mother. It was so close to an air of happiness that she didn’t dare interrupt it. Instead, she watched the memories drifting in her mother’s eyes: memories of her husband, the love and light of her life.
She wanted that for herself, as greedy as perhaps it was. The devotion and adoration she’d witnessed all her life was something she craved to hold. However, the gods had a habit of destroying every dream she’d ever wanted for herself.
“Mother…” Nouke choked out softly, suddenly overwhelmed with a sadness she was unsure of.
There were tears shimmering in her mother’s eyes when she met them, tears, and resoluteness that Nouke had not seen in a long time.
“No, Nouke,” she said adamantly. “I will not see you live even more miserably. This world has already taken so much from you…”
Her mother’s words stilled her, and she knew then there would be no sense in arguing. Nouke responded with a sad smile; her words lost amidst the mess of thoughts in her head.
A silence fell between them as they tended to the rest of their chores. Nouke did her best to push her focus on her work, wanting it to consume her, afraid her thoughts would stray to the piles of things she’d fought for years to forget.
Night was falling when their work was done and Nouke followed her mother up the stairs, her mother’s steps growing more labored near the top until she began to fall. Nouke quickly braced and caught her, helping her mother stabilize on the stone railing.
“Are you alright?” Nouke asked, concern evident in her tone.
Maketaten chuckled lightly.
“Just a little dizzy from a day in the heat,” she reassured her daughter.
Nouke led her mother to a stool in the common area of their home, skeptical about her mother’s reasoning. An irritating twinge of panic began twisting familiar knots into her stomach as her mind filled with images of her father collapsed in the field.
“Does this happen…often?” Nouke asked, unable to mask the crack in her voice.
Her mother shrugged, “Only recently.”
Nouke’s panic settled deeper, knot's tightening.
“I’m not young anymore. I assure you; I am fine.” Maketaten’s voice was calm and exuded assurance, but Nouke didn’t miss the faint glimmer of fear in her eyes.
That restrained fear was enough to tie a knot in Nouke’s throat she tried to swallow before it drew tears to her eyes. She could gauge her own expression from the one her mother held, knowing that her own fear was rapidly taking shape on her features.
“Maybe…” Nouke said as softly as she could. “You should see a healer.”
Maketaten reached to caress her daughter's face, smiling gently.
“My sweet girl. You are full of worry…” she spoke, tracing the lines on her daughter's face, looking sad. “I will be fine.”
Nouke cupped her hand over her mother’s and held it to her face, relishing in the warmth her touch offered.
“I cannot lose you, mother.”
Maketaten placed a lingering kiss to Nouke’s forehead.
“I’m tired. It’s time I rest. Goodnight.” Her mother said, without more to say about her supposed sickness.
“Goodnight.”
Nouke watched her go, allowing her fear to settle in a room by herself. Her father was taken too suddenly for them to remedy whatever it was that ailed him. She would not let the same fate befall her mother. She didn’t know if she had the strength to lose everyone she loved.
During the week that followed, Nouke’s concern took root in her stomach a little deeper as every day slipped by balefully to remind her that time was working against her. And while her mother didn’t seem to be in any pain, the knots in her stomach wound tighter with the sense something was not right. Meals went uneaten and the labor it took her to do the simplest of the chores was evidence of her failing health.
Every passing moment felt more critical than the last, dread an ever-present cloud in her thoughts bringing with it the fear of waking to find her mother had passed in the night. The notion ate away at her night after night, keeping her from sleep before, finally, Nouke couldn’t waste another minute—she had to try something.
It was late afternoon when Nouke ventured into the market while her mother rested. The familiar thrum instilled her with a much-needed boost to keep her head focused on her task. She knew of two people who could help her if they were feeling kind: one took patients and both sold vials of curatives. The jingling of coins in the bag tied at her hip, and the sack of fresh harvestables slung over her shoulder, reminded her that she had little to offer for services—a few coins and the best bushels from their farm.
In her heart, she knew that wouldn’t be enough, but she kept walking with her chin up.
The market was busy for the lateness of the hour, the glow of lamps and torches lighting the shadowy streets. Nouke maneuvered through the hordes of people with practiced agility, making her way to the first stall, going over what she was to say silently in her head.
He was a younger man, older than herself, dressed fashionably in robes of finer linen indicating that he was skilled in his profession. The man was carefully packing up his stall, ready to turn in for the night when Nouke approached.
“May I ask you a few questions?” Her heart was beating in her throat.
The healer turned and glanced at her with a raised brow and a smug curl on his lips.
“You may,” he said, his beady eyes looking her up and down several times, before deciding that she was worth his time.
“My mother is sick—though she won’t admit it. Would you be willing to—”
The man held up his hand to silence her, looking disinterested.
“Payment,” he demanded holding out his hand.
Nouke swallowed and glanced at the small coin purse on her hip, and the sack of goods she’d brought. Before she even worked the satchel of harvestables from her shoulder, the man scoffed with a mirthless chortle.
“No,” he told her.
“Please?” Nouke reached for the purse of coins, spilling them into her palm. “This is all I have.”
“All you have is not enough,” he scoffed, turning to pack up the rest of his market stall.
Any other day, Nouke would have acted on his slight, letting him know the gods would not take kindly to his cruel heart, but she was exhausted from her ceaseless worry. Instead, she sighed a wrothful puff, accompanying it with a scowl she hoped conveyed the level of insult she felt.
The next man was much older and adorned like most of the other merchants: as common as she. When he welcomed her into his stall with a kind smile, Nouke found herself smiling back in relief.
“What can I help you with?” he asked in a warm voice that was a stark contrast to the last man she had spoken to.
“My mother is sick,”
“What signs of malady does she show?” he asked with genuine curiosity.
“Um, weakness, no appetite, fatigue—I don’t know of any pain.” Nouke swallowed, throwing another mournful look at the payment she had to offer. “I don’t have much in return for your services, but it’s all I have. Will you help me?”
The man looked at her with a sad, apologetic smile.
“I am no healer, child.” He confessed. “I sell ointments for skin, burned from long hours in the sun, honey’s that help heal cuts. I know not what ails your mother. I sincerely wish I could help you, but I cannot provide the remedies you seek.”
Nouke’s entire body wilted under the weight of defeat.
“Thank you,” she murmured, offering the man her coin purse as payment for his time. “Sorry to have troubled you.”
“No, no,” he declined waving his hands. “Save it to help your mother.”
Nouke gave the man a warm smile and thanked him again.
The walk back to her farm seemed longer somehow, made that way by the weight of defeat she carried with her. Maketaten was sleeping when Nouke returned, venturing into their shared room to be sure she had not suffered the same fate as her husband. A tiny wave of relief washed over her when she heard her mother's soft snores, and the sound coaxed the ghost of a smile to tint her features.
Nouke didn’t even try to go to sleep that night; the grace of deep, dreamless slumber was elusive. When she did find sleep her mind was plagued with memories that soured into nightmares. Most nights, though, she spent staring at the ceiling. The day had brought only more worry, which left her mind too preoccupied for the wish of restfulness. Nouke instead took refuge on the roof.
Tears brimmed her eyes the moment she nestled herself in her makeshift nest, feeling the full weight of fate upon her. She sat with her knees pulled to her chest, hugging them, feeling as though she was going to burst if she didn’t keep herself wound tight. For the first time in a long time, Nouke let herself drown in the sea of emotions she’d kept at bay longer than she wanted to admit. She cried until her head ached and throbbed with every beat of her breaking heart; until her tears ran dry leaving only soft whimpers. She knew sulking would get her nowhere but releasing all that pent-up turmoil cleared her head, and Nouke felt a sense of calm letting go of so much.
As the tears dried on her cheeks, the pulsing slowed enough to let her mind focus on a new plan to find a solution for her mother’s ailment. It would be months before most of the crops could be harvested to make any substantial profit, and as much as it pained her to think, Nouke knew her mother could not spare that kind of time.
She sighed, trying to fight off another wave of defeat from pulling her back under the water, the heel of her hands rubbing her swollen eyes. When her vision adjusted, her focus settled on the distant horizon, and a glint caught her eye: the pharaoh’s palace was shinning like a beacon in the distance.
“Ahk…” she whispered breathlessly, feeling her heart flutter at the sound of his name falling easily from her tongue.
All at once, her mind flooded with the memories she’d locked away to keep from missing him. His kindness filled every trace of those memories, feeding her waves of foolish hope. Ahk would have healers and priests waiting to serve him, but he was pharaoh. The title loomed like a dark cloud to cast a shadow over the sweet prince she remembered. Power had a funny way of spoiling kindness. If his crown had not tainted him, he would help her—she knew he would.
Even getting inside the palace wouldn’t be difficult if the garden wall still held the passageway she’d found in her youth. All that was stopping her was Kahmunrah’s warning. If he or his guard recognized her, that would be the end. The thought should have frightened her more than it did, but the threat of her own death didn’t seem so daunting if it meant she could save her mother.
As long as she could avoid Kahmunrah and find Ahk, there was hope something good could come from such a foolish decision.
Next Chapter-> Chapter Eight: The Boy From the Palace
#Ahkmenrah#Ahkmenrah x Original Character#Ahkmenrah Fanfiction#NATM#NATM Fanfiction#Left to Ruin#Rami Malek Character#Rami Malek Character Fanfiction#Rami Malek Fanfiction#Rami Malek
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A Legacy Begun (11 - End)
Chapter 11: The Spark of Hope | Cal Kestis x Reader
Summary: After a long time of running and fighting, you and Cal decided to finally settle down after all these years to raise a family. However, it was never a life of peace whilst the shadow of the Empire looms over your heads.
Prompt/s in play: Anon prompt (found in Chapter 1 link) + fic idea
A/N: Wow, I’m a day overdue on this. I was supposed to work on this a day ago until I had a yard accident. Don’t worry, nothing’s broken, but something’s... wiggling. Hopefully, I’ll be okay in a few weeks... hopefully. Sorry for the delay, you guys.
Also posted in AO3
Tags: Scruffy! Cal Kestis, Daddy! Cal Kestis, Adult! Cal Kestis, Jedi Family, Jedi Offspring, Force-Sensitive Offspring, Settling Down, Rebel Alliance
Chapters: 1 – 2 – 3 – 4 – 5 – 6 – 7 – 8 – 9 | Previous: Part 10 | Masterlist
11 of 11
The Kestis family and the Mantis crew eventually decided to join this alliance with the objective of stopping the Empire at all costs. They took up the offer a month after Mari Kosan had personally approached them.
For young Cassidy, it was a big adjustment, having to leave the home she knew back in Zera III and begin to live in a new home. The child had mixed feelings about it, she had sensed the uneasiness of her parents when they prepared for their departure that day.
“I never saw a planet that red before,” she gasped, gawking at Yavin’s main planet that they passed by as they approached the moon’s atmosphere.
When the Mantis had cut through the skies and had full view of the forests that covered the land mass. All of a sudden, little Cassidy didn’t feel a bit homesick anymore.
“It’s… almost like home,” she softly uttered, the treelines reminded her of the wide, green dells of Zera.
Greez prepared the Mantis to land near the open area in front of the sandstone structure. Upon closer look, it would’ve been a temple when it was still in its prime. The entire family was greeted by Mari Kosan, who went out of her way to meet with them as soon as she saw that familiar ship flying into their radar.
The bustle of the temple-turned-base of operations fascinated the young Jedi. Never has she ever seen a different kind of ship besides the Mantis, she had to step back while keeping her head titled up—emphasizing the gargantuan size of the fighter ships.
The new feeling was a two-way road: for the adults working in the base, it was new for them to see a kid running around—understandably so, it was someone’s daughter. As for Cassidy, she wasn’t used to this much people in a single place, she felt small and therefore found more solace with her family.
“This place is so much bigger than our house, Mom!” she exclaimed.
“Well, it is a base after all, darling,”
“Did they build that too?” she points to the pyramid.
“No, it looked like it’s been there way before they even came here,”
Much like her lifestyle in Zera III, Cassidy found herself a spot where she can practice her saber techniques in peace without being in the way of the adults working in the base. It’s no surprise that her spot was another clearing in the forest, little did she know that she was in full view of the scouts in the watchtowers but they didn’t mind her that much, it was also only a few meters away from the base so she can find her way back on her own.
Her parents eventually found her spot, thanks to a watchtower scout, and they continued their training—almost as if nothing happened. Over time, her skills improved and she was able to spar with her parents—something that she has been secretly dreaming even before she had her own saber constructed.
“You’re catching up real quick!” Cal encouraged.
“Well, I’ve been practicing all week, Dad!”
“Don’t get cocky then, Cassy!”
Cassidy’s combat techniques had evolved from sticking to only Form I: Shii-Cho to being a practitioner of Form III: Soresu, occasionally making a medley out of the first four forms if the situation arises. It was a blatant contrast to her father’s combined forms—which were technically powerful, swift, nearly-brutish in terms of movement, and is highly likely to be overwhelming for an unskilled opponent.
You observed that Cassidy was more in the offensive and Cal was being defensive in his stances. He surely didn’t go easy on sparring against his daughter.
“You confuse your confidence with arrogance, keep yourself grounded—literally and figuratively!” Cal lectured as he proceeded to lunge at her, to which she barely dodged by a hair. “Celebrating too early will cloud your judgment. You may think you’re winning—but you’re getting closer to loss.”
From that, Cassidy became more conservative with her attacks, timing for the right window of opportunity to get a jab at Cal, he disarmed her when he made a flurry of combos against her to the point that the grip on her saber had weakened and led her scuttling on the dust. The tip of his lightsaber hovered mere inches away from the front of her face.
“Well, Cassidy?”
This isn’t how Cassidy pictured herself in today’s instruction. While she had her father thinking that she’s submitted to the ground, she mustered her energy in her hands and Force-pushed her father away. It wasn’t a strong push, but enough to stagger him away from her so she can reach for her saber.
Igniting it the second the weapon reunites with her hand, she lunged for an overhead strike to which Cal flimsily deflected while trying to regain her footing.
“Impressive,” he commented as the colors of their blades mixed in the tight space between them. Cassidy pulled away before she could let the weight of her father overcome her in the block. “Most impressive.”
Cal switched his saber off, signaling the end of today’s session. Cassidy made a celebratory spin of her saber before turning it off.
“You’re learning everyday,” you added.
“There are just some parts that I can’t get right,”
“You’ll have plenty of time to work on that, sweetie. Come on, it’s time for lunch, Greez is making your favorite,”
“Alright!!”
Cassidy raced out of the forest, forgetting to wait for her parents and simply dashed towards the Mantis. You and Cal exchange insights on your daughter from today’s session.
“She’s becoming more and more skillful. She really is a born fast learner,”
“To tell you the truth, I didn’t think she’d do a Force-push on me. That was quite creative of her,”
Cal insisted that his daughter had inherited tactfulness and adaptiveness from you.
“Yes well, she got that tinge of recklessness from you,” you rebutted, half-jokingly.
The two of you walked out of the clearing and followed Cassidy to the Mantis. Apparently, she was waiting for you by the entry ramp, when she had caught sight of her parents she disappeared into the ship, probably helping out set the table inside.
“If there’s one thing Cassidy is weak for—it’s fried Nuna legs,” Cal quipped, nothing but a chuckle from you became his reply.
The first few months have been peaceful, yet there was always the looming fear that war will come here and ravage the moon. Your only comfort being you’ll be fighting with good people and in numbers.
—–
0 BBY, IN THE TIMELINE OF “A NEW HOPE”
In the midst of the committee, he was held in high regard, looked upon with great esteem, they turned to him whenever the subject matter felt like his insight was crucial. He was a constant figure among the meeting rooms in the base. They didn’t look down on him due to his second origin of being a scrapper, as a matter of fact, he had the same knowledge as their engineers.
“Master Kestis,” a voice, faceless among the crowd in the meeting room. He had insisted everyone to simply call him by his first name, but out of force of habit, they end up addressing him as Master.
When he knew that it was hopeless for him to correct them, he turned to that voice in the room that addressed him. His glance prompted them to continue.
“Do you think it’s plausible to have a far-range receiver to pick up the Empire’s signal?”
A brief pause allowed him to think. He returned his attention to the holograph where they had gathered.
“Well, the concept is similar to something I’ve designed for our previous home. But to make its range farther—for instance, from the surface to off-planet—we’re gonna have to need a stronger satellite, calibrate it with an open channel frequency, and once we test it, we can figure out how far our dummy ship’s signal can be picked up once it’s out of the moon. The farther, the better—it means that we can pick up the Empire in our radar before they even realize it.”
“It’s an ambitious design, but not impossible,” Gial Ackbar, the Mon Calamari admiral, interjects. “It’s sure to help us buy time when the need to evacuate comes.”
“We’ll see what we can do in the drawing board,” the head engineer added, stroking his grey-white beard as if he’s come up with an idea to add up to Cal’s concept. “I think we can do that on one of the prototype transponders we have to communicate with the pilots from their ships once they’re off the planet.”
“That could work, I’d like to see it some time, if you don’t mind, Head Engineer,”
“My boy, it will be a delight if you stop by!” the old head engineer chuckled, tucking his hands into the pockets of his long, white coat.
The meeting was adjourned after a few more discussions varying between the Empire and the base’s own resources. Everyone else dispersed in the meeting room and Cal was one of the first people to leave the room, trading curt nods at fellow rebels as he passed by the hallways.
Cal wore many hats and served them one by one—sometimes even juggling two at a time. But past the formalities, the conferences, and the ceaseless interaction with the diplomats, he always returns to the one role he has been taking on for eleven years.
“Dad! Watch me train with Mom!” Cassidy comes running up to her dad in the hangar and he catches her in his arms.
“I wouldn’t miss it, sweetie,”
“Then we’ll spar, right?”
“You betcha!”
Father and daughter appear into the forest clearing where you had been waiting for the two of them. Cassidy slipped her hand away from her dad, Cal gently holds you by the cheek and pulls you in for a kiss.
“Darling, you’re back,”
“I missed you,”
“It was only for an hour or two,”
“Yeah well, meetings aren’t really my thing,” the bridge of his nose crumpled, playfully making a grimace as he stretches his arms upward and wraps one of them around your shoulder. “This is a bit more of my thing.”
Bemused, you rolled your eyes and found his hand on your shoulder, “Which one—today’s instruction or me?”
He inched close and grinned, the tips of your noses brushing against one another, “Both.”
His lips pecked yours, but he doesn’t plan to let go of you any moment soon.
Now at eleven years old, Cassidy continued to prove her potential as a Jedi.
The child was lithe and nimble, using them to her advantage whether in combat or traversing the terrain of the obstacle course that her parents had built together. Her strategical skills were put into good use in that training course.
Her liveliness in combat was balanced out in using the Force and meditating, courtesy of you, no less.
“You’re getting better at the fighting,” you initiated, eventually slipping away from Cal’s arm. “But let’s see how you’ll fare without your weapon.”
Using the Force, you spirited away the saber from Cassidy’s small hand. She didn’t have time to react on it and realize that you’re stealing away her saber.
“Oh, don’t think about pulling the same trick as you did with your dad,”
There was stern tone in your voice, just hearing it made Cassidy’s stomach churn. To reassure her that it was going to be a fair fight, you removed your saber from the designated hook on your belt and joined it with Cassidy’s atop a rock’s flat surface.
“There will come a time that you’ll be robbed of your weapon—mostly by your enemies. And when that happens, you’re essentially bare—but don’t let that deter you. The weapon you have next to your saber is yourself. Now then…”
It occurred to her that she had to wield only the Force and engage in hand-to-hand combat against you. You seldom engage in any form of combat with Cassidy—because that was more of Cal’s work—but it was only this one time where she saw you throwing fists and delivering kicks. She’s seen you fight with a lightsaber, but rarely with your bare hands.
Your own daughter was surprised to face her mother—who was barely angry or aggressive, always sweet and doting—not once did Cassidy ever imagine you challenging her. Then again, you were a Jedi, she knew that you would eventually.
She tucked her knees down, placing herself in a stance with her fists in front of her.
“Good form. Now, see if you can attack me,”
Cassidy resumed to being the one who always engages in the offensive first. Springing her heels toward you, she attempted to pull a punch—in the blink of an eye, the whole of your palm stopped the impact on wherever she was planning to hit you.
You pushed her away, deflecting her blow, and she restarted her stance. For every punch she threw, she was denied of landing it; in perfect balance, you bent down level to her waist and your leg literally swept her off of her feet.
“Throwing punches may feel thrilling, but if you’re going to be reckless like that first moment, it’s not going to work,”
“I’ll try again,” she declared, steeling her mental willpower and her demeanor.
Going back to your stance was your reply, you anticipated her attacks. This time, she opted to start with a kick and your forearm shielded you from the tip of her boot. When you swung her foot back to the ground, she hooked her left fist towards your cheek—a bold move, you thought, but it was nothing as you repeated the same deflection as the first time. Cassidy took you by surprise when she flung a kick against your side when you were busy blocking her punch with your arm.
You staggered at the impact, you dented the earth with your boots as you skidded and reset your footing to face her in the other direction. A small smirk curled along your lips—that meant that she’s impressed you with her last-minute tactic—and the fistfight continued.
“Good!” you exerted. “Keep making use of your advantages, Cassidy!”
Cassidy allowed the adrenaline to flow within her, dictate her movements, and be able to analyze the situation faster before you could retaliate. Punches and kicks land between mother and daughter. Flinging and trading fists, making sure that it doesn’t only cut through the wind.
Eventually, your eleven-year-old secured her win on this round when she delivered a kick on your knee and then to your abdomen. When the adrenaline had died down in her system, Cassidy’s clenched teeth loosened and the tension in her shoulders relaxed. She darted towards her mother’s side, assisting you to get back up on your feet.
“Oh… Oh no, Mom! Are you okay?!”
“I’m fine, sweetie,” you grunted, managing a reassuring chuckle and taking her hand, you repeated. “It’s fine.”
“I’m so sorry, I… I don’t know what gotten into me,”
“A little adrenaline couldn’t hurt, Cassy,” you tussled her hair. You exhaled away the aches that her hits have delivered.
The arrival of a Corellian freighter called your attention, catching a glimpse of it on the trees’ canopy. The intrigued youngling darted out of the clearing to find it landing right in front of the base, opposite of where the Mantis idled.
“Wow, that’s a big piece of junk,”
“Now Cassidy, be nice,” Cal lightly scolded.
“Oh come on, Dad, you think so too, right?”
He sighed, bobbing his head left and right, “Okay, it’s not the best piece of work, really.”
“Knew it!” the child chuckled.
From afar, you spot the Princess exiting the ship, flanked by a pair of men, a Wookiee, a gold protocol droid, and a blue-and-white astromech.
“Well, it seems Her Highness has gotten herself stuck with an interesting band of misfits,” you commented within Cal’s earshot.
“Quite an interesting rescue team if you ask me,”
The family approached the group, appearing out of the clearing to greet the princess with the greatest esteem.
“Ah, Your Highness, this is Master and Lady Kestis,” the soldier introduces.
“Your Majesty,” husband and wife greeted and bowed in unison, to which the Princess immediately dismissed.
“Oh come now, there’s no need for formalities,” she beamed a smile with lips as red as roses.
Cassidy was still a tad shy towards newcomers, she hid behind Cal’s hip as she gazed at the mismatched group of misfits; she was mostly interested with the Wookiee and how tall it stood over everyone else, when the brown, hairy creature met eyes with her, she was startled and hid her face against her dad’s arm, but the Wookiee tilted his head slightly, mirroring the child’s gesture as she gradually peeked out of her father’s arm. When she sensed that the tall creature was harmless, she flashed a shy but friendly smile and the Wookiee groaned softly.
The same head engineer from Cal’s meeting beckoned him to join them inside the base.
“Lady Kestis, if you don’t mind, we would like to have your company in the council room as well,”
“Of course,” you turned to Cassidy. “Daddy and I will be back, okay? You go play wherever you like.”
“Okay, Mom,”
You kissed her forehead, “I’ll see you later, okay?”
She nodded and you let her free. You and Cal followed the head engineer and the Princess, boarding a cart separate from theirs on the way into the hangar. The Kestis couple sensed the urgency as they strode into the meeting room, while having the meeting, Cassidy had wandered off into the hangar—secretly following the newcomers and caught the eye of the boy with sandy brown hair.
“Hello there,” the nineteen-year-old spoke in a friendly tone and bent to her level. “What’s your name?”
“Cassidy,”
“What a pretty name. Well, Cassidy, I’m Luke! Nice to meet you,” he gladly extended his hand, offering her a handshake. She hesitated for a few seconds but took his hand with hers and they shook on it.
She didn’t notice it, but Luke’s friendly smile unconsciously dissolved as he felt something within the girl. It was similar to a feeling he had not too long ago. Even with his eyes opened, he suddenly reminisced a moment where he had his vision obscured and the sound of the lightsaber buzzing against projectiles rang fresh in his eardrums. He shook away the thought and managed a smile in front of Cassidy as he let go of her hand.
“Did you rescue her? The princess?”
“Yeah, I guess we did,”
“Are the bad guys coming here? Because I have a bad feeling about it,”
“Oh well, would you look at that—just when I thought you were the youngest here, there’s one who beat you to it,” the other man, obviously taller than Luke, cuts in before he could give the boy a chance to reply.
The Wookiee grunted in reply.
“Don’t scare her off, Chewie,” the man blurted.
In reply, the Wookiee raised its voice on the man with the black vest, flailing its arm to emphasize whatever point it was making. While the three bickered, Cassidy turned her head to the freighter they came in with, she reminded herself of her father’s scolding and bit her tongue.
Moments later, all of the pilots started gravitating towards the room where the engineer had summoned them. Although he wasn’t a pilot yet, Luke decided to join in, but he politely excused himself in front of Cassidy before he went with the herd of orange jumpsuits. Amidst that gathering of pilots, Cassidy’s parents were also in that briefing, listening to the head engineer as he points at the blueprint of the plans they’ve recovered while giving instructions.
“So much for that far-range receiver,” Cal mumbled within your earshot.
“Don’t worry, you’ll get your chance in making it,” you comforted as you listened.
“Using proton torpedoes, a precise shot into this small exhaust port found in this trench—it’s an opening so small, its width roughly measures about two meters—will cause a chain reaction into the oscillator, destroying it from the inside,” the head engineer explained.
Murmurs filled the room, heads turning left and right as doubt begins to fill the meeting room. You and Cal glance at the uneasy pilots, their collective inhibition was so loud that neither of you don’t need to sense it—because everyone else in the entire room did.
“That’s impossible!” a faceless voice, lost in the crowd of orange and white, stood out from the whispering.
“Then man your ships, and may the Force be with you all,” the engineer adjourned.
“Are you fighting with them?” that question had been suffocating you for the duration of the briefing.
“No, I don’t think I have the strength to leave my girls here,”
Relief washed over you as you smiled, Cal secretly slipped his hand to yours and intertwined fingers with you. The two of you watched the pilots disperse out of the room, some were confident, some were nervous—but if there was one thing they had in common: they’re ultimately anxious.
Cassidy eventually found Luke donning a starpilot’s jumpsuit. She watched the blue-and-white astromech droid being hoisted by a magnetic crane into the designated port on the exterior of the X-Wing.
“I hope they’ve calibrated and oiled your S-foils well,” Cassidy blurted. “It’s gonna be hard if it’s not fully locked in their attack position.”
“You sure know your starfighters,” Luke smiled, impressed.
“My dad used to be a scrapper, so he knows his stuff. Plus, he helps with the ships too!” Cassidy said proudly.
Luke replied an awkward but friendly laugh as he climbed the ladder onto the cockpit of his X-Wing.
“Hey Luke!”
“Yeah?”
“May the Force be with you!”
“May the Force be with you too, Cassidy!”
You beckoned Cassidy into the far side of the hangar, where the three of you watched all of the X-Wings wheel out of the hangar and take off to the skies—carrying the hope of the entire Rebel Alliance as a first step to battling the Empire.
#cal kestis fic#cal kestis#cal kestis x reader#cal kestis x reader fic#scruffy! cal kestis#daddy! cal kestis#adult! cal kestis#jedi family#jedi offspring#force-sensitive offspring#settling down#rebel alliance#star wars#star wars fic#sw#sw fic#star wars jedi fallen order#star wars jedi fallen order fic#swjfo#sw jfo#swjfo fic#sw jfo fic#jedi fallen order#jedi fallen order fic#jfo#jfo fic#anon#for anon#fic request#fic
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Put Me In a Movie
Keanu Reeves x Reader (A/n- Took me a sold five minutes to spell ‘ecstasy’ in the title)
Summary Prologue 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10
Warnings- Angst
Chapter 11- Ecstasy To Aching
The heavy ticking of the round faced, analog clock mounted over the bedroom door stirred the silence, drowning the steady beating of her heart and the loudness of Y/n’s murky thoughts. Even in the darkness, with heavy floral drapes blocking out the moonlight and all the lights in the house turned off, a consequence of it being past one in the morning, she could make out every detail of the bedroom. Her bedroom, even if the occasion of her occupying it had recently become scarce. Y/n had decorated the room herself, when she’d just moved in with her Aunt Bev. Her mother had hated that Y/n had chosen to leave, despised the court for giving Roger sole custody and abhorred the fact that in the end, because Y/n certainly couldn’t travel the globe with her father, she’d settled with her ex-sister in law.
Rolling onto her side, facing the wall opposing the awning window to the left, Y/n couldn’t see it, but she knew for a fact that the lilac wall was peppered with band posters, sentimental pictures and those ridiculous plaques with inspirational quotes strewn in cursive. Sometimes Y/n couldn’t believe that she had been that kind of teenage girl. The kind that was so oblivious to the jaggedness of life that she thought hers could be remedied with some pretty words framed with flowers and hearts. Even then, she should have known better, she’d seen the marriage that she’d idealized fall apart, watch her mother spew venom at people she’d been taught to love and watched her father get in a cab, only to leave for months on end, more times than any little girl should have. But she had hope. Hope that things would be different when she was finally old enough to make it count. Hope that she hadn’t realized would dwindle before she could put it to use.
Sighing quietly, Y/n shifted again, the rustling of her duvet no match for the persistent clock. It went without saying that sleep had been hard to come by since she’d gone to Santa Clara. She’d gotten in two days ago, and in those two days, a collective ten hours might have been a generous overstatement. It was like Y/n couldn’t turn her mind off, it was always going, usually replaying every moment spent with Keanu, desperately trying to figure it out, find where they were going wrong. But she couldn’t, for the life of her, Y/n just couldn’t. Well, at least, she couldn’t accept it. Accept part of the blame, accept that their way of doing things wasn’t the best, accept that maybe, they really had no place being together.
They hadn’t even spoken since she’d left, and while Y/n had, several times, considered calling him, she’d let the thought pass her by. Or rather, she’d forcefully pushed it away. What if he didn’t want to talk? What if she called and didn’t know what to say.
She wished he wanted to talk.
Keanu.
Blinking slowly, Y/n exhaled slowly. It was getting hard to pretend it didn’t hurt most times, but still, she cared for him. She cared too damn much. He was dangerously gorgeous, and his baritone was reminiscent of fine whiskey over rocks. His calloused touch, gliding over her hips, skimming her curves, was incomparable and Keanu’s brazen, quiet charm never failed to draw her in. There was so much about him besides that too, they way he made her heart beat a little faster by just whispering her name, they way his embrace could brighten the darkness and how it felt to kiss him. His taste; tobacco and mint, the way his tongue slid over Y/n’s when his lips fused with hers, it was……..perfect.
Y/n’s breath hiccuped at the realization that finally dawned upon her, and her eyes burned. Even after everything. After she’d realized that they were probably headed down a one way street to gut turning heartbreak; she’s fallen in love with him.
She loved Keanu.
There, flat on her back, staring blankly at the clear ceiling, Y/n could barely register the quiet tears that escaped the corners of her wide eyes. Loved? When she wasn't even sure if he cared. And then, because she could never really get away from him, even if she was out of town, Y/n’s phone vibrated on the nightstand next to her, illuminating the darkened room.
The ringing seemed to go on forever and Keanu was beginning to think that Y/n had already turned in for the night. Still, he kept the faith, hoping that she’d pick up. He wanted to hear her. He needed to hear her. It had been going on two days since they’d last spoken as time stretched forward, the gnawing feeling, the sheer insecurity, had only grown. Y/n was miles away, and every minute passed was a minute more of her putting him in the rear view.
Even if they were a mess before, the moment Y/n had left, Keanu’s affections for her had been reignited with vigor. He couldn’t tell if it was plainly physical or not, but if his unsavory, juvenile actions had been anything to go by, he couldn’t discount the thought. Though, Keanu wouldn’t have gone as far as saying that he didn’t miss other things too; her laugh, the playful way she’d roll her eyes when he told a stupid joke and the warmth that would spread through him when Y/n laid her head on his shoulder.
“Hello?” The line connected and her voice rang through breathy and soft. If Keanu closed his eyes, with just that one word, he could fuel his fantasy and ease his weary mind, and she was there.
“Hey,” he whispered, husky and low, sitting up against the headboard, running corrective fingers through disheveled hair, “Did I wake you?”
Keanu could have sworn he caught her sniffing quietly, but Y/n spoke before he could think to ask about it, “No,” she dismissed, and could hear the faint sound of Y/n moving around between the sheets. Maybe he should have gone with her, that might have made things better, right? “I actually couldn’t sleep.”
Moistening his lips, Keanu wondered if it was because of him. If Y/n had been laying in bed, mind running rampant with thoughts of him they way his head with images of her. “Yeah, me too.” He sighed when she didn’t make a move to stir the new bout of silence, not really sure of what he should say next. The mood was confusing, he wasn’t even sure if she actually wanted to talk to him. If she wanted to talk, she might have called. And she hadn’t called, so maybe she didn’t want to talk. After his not so stellar behavior a few days ago though, he couldn’t blame her. And of course, that had just turned into something else they had neglected to address.
“I miss you,” he tested tentatively. It wasn’t a lie, he did miss her, yet still, Keanu was surprised that he’d chosen to admit it. He often thought that it was probably better to guard his feelings, to keep them close so there wasn’t the chance that they could be used against him. He didn’t want to be hurt like that, so instead, by default, he’d hurt her like that.
It took a while, and Keanu could feel the weight descending on his chest, she didn’t feel the same, she wasn’t missing him. Saying that was a mistake. The sirens were about to go off, he was about to shut down their brief conversation, when meekly, as always, she was able to still his quickened breaths, uttering in return, “I miss you too.”
Clam.
The sigh of relief that escaped his parted lips caught Keanu off guard and he was immensely relieved that the feeling was shared between them. “What have you been up to?” Y/n, seemingly sensing the impending awkwardness, probed gently.
“Not a lot,” an air of pseudo-nonchalance carried in his tone as Keanu toyed with the tightly stitched hem of his thick, warm, coverlet, the navy strips barely visible by the moonlight filtering in through the pulled curtains, “Just clearing up some things at Arch. I hung out with some friends earlier tonight. But that’s it. What about you, how’s your aunt and Santa Clara?”
“They’re good,” Y/n glazed over everything she’d done since she’d gotten there; how she’d caught up with her aunt over dinner, how they’d gone shopping and everything else. And after that, the ice between them seemed to start thawing and they fell into easier, more comfortable conversation. Two hours had passed, and it was only when the clock at his bedside indicated that it was nearly half three in the morning when Keanu heard Y/n yawn, a soft groan traveling through the line followed by and very sleepy, though absolutely adorable, “I’m tired.”
“I should let you get to sleep then,” Keanu chuckled. He was only just starting to feel the wear of the day past himself, and as it turned out, a lengthy chat with Y/n was just what he needed to loosen the tension in his shoulders.
“Mmm,” Y/n hummed, probably not even completely registering the words leaving her mouth, her mind in too much of a sleep deprived haze to keep up, “But I don’t want to,” she whined playfully.
Truthfully, Keanu didn’t want her to either, but it was getting closer to four am and he didn’t want Y/n to spend too much of her time back home asleep, missing out on doing things with her aunt, and he was supposed to meet his sister the next morning too. “Well,” he worried on his lips for a moment, thinking some more, “Can we switch to Facetime?”
Y/n hesitated for a minute, but eventually complied, “Sure,” she giggled, probably wondering where he was going with that. In just minutes, Keanu was looking at her, the image blurred from the darkness, though he could see that her hair was a little messy, less so than his, and she was wearing her pajamas, “What next?”
“Lay down,” he urged, easing on his own pillow and propping his phone on the bare spot next to him, watching intently as Y/n eventually followed suit, using a little stuffed animal and an extra pillow to keep her phone from falling. “Okay,” he sighed giddily when they were both set, “Now we can go to sleep together.” Keanu watched, smiling softly as Y/n dragged her lower lip through her teeth, before reaching over and fiddling with the sheets, “What are you doing?” He chortled, amused as he caught bits of the covers in the frame.
“Tucking you in,” she defended, adjusting the sheets again. Out of instinct, and definitely not by her request, Keanu started doing the same. By then, he didn’t need Y/n to mention something before he started mirroring her habits; chewing on his lip while he thought, circling the rim of his coffee mug with his finger, and now tucking his phone in. “Goodnight Keanu,” she managed between slow, sleepy blinks.
“Goodnight Y/n,” he hummed, his own eyes heavy and slipping closed as Y/n finally succumbed to sleep, the call still on.
5 days later
Coming in through the private terminal, Y/n knew that Keanu had adamant on picking her up, though she hadn’t expected to see him so soon, awaiting her just as she approached the escalator, struggling to carry her luggage. Squealing, she beamed as he pushed off the glass railing, approaching her quickly, only for Y/n to drop her bag and pull him into a tight hug. Through a deep inhale, she breathed his musky scent, reveling in the comfort of his arms. “I missed you,” she breathed into his neck as Keanu briefly lifted her off the floor.
“I missed you too,” he grinned as he set her down, his hands still maintaining a firm hold on her waist. Just for a minute, Keanu started leaning down, about to kiss her, when he caught himself, realizing that they were already on the receiving end of some inquisitive stares, thinking better of it. Suddenly, the air between them felt clumsy and awkward, like it had before Y/n had left.
So nothing had changed.
Letting go of a nervous, silently pained breath, Y/n pulled away, a little upset when Keanu made no move to keep her to him. “Let me get this for you,” Keanu offered, grabbing the handle of her suitcase and easing her carry on off her shoulder.
“Thanks,” Y/n sighed, letting the space between them build naturally as they walked. The ride down turned out to be as uneventful as she’d expected, though the real drama came when she and Keanu were headed towards the exit. It had started slow and unwelcome, one pushy camera man at the first waiting area they passed, another two joining him as they walked. But eventually, somehow, they had multiplied, and before long cameras were shuttering and being shoved in their faces, and while most of them just wanted her and Keanu to stop for pictures, some of the shoves came with invasive questions.
“Are you two dating?”
“How’s the movie coming along?”
“Are the rumors true?”
“Did you break-up with Luke for Keanu?”
They took it in stride, like two professionals who knew what they were doing, not for a minute entertaining the paparazzi as they bustled towards the automatic doors just up ahead. With everyone surrounding them though, the door seemed almost unreachable, and while Y/n had grown used to being bombarded by nosy paps who’d do anything in the name of the gig, she found it especially unbearable that day, especially since part of Y/n longed for the reassurance that she Keanu wasn’t going to give. If he wouldn’t take her hand on the beach, he certainly wasn’t going to do it when they were surrounded by cameras.
Her breathing quickened and her heart thumped erratically against her ribs. She didn’t like that, not in the slightest. Even if Keanu was just a foot away, Y/n felt completely alone, as if she were the only receiver of those pushy, invasive questions, while Keanu, as always, looked perfectly unaffected, not uncomfortable in the slightest. Y/n wished that just for once, he could be as bothered as she was, care as much as she did.
By the time they had left the building, two security guards had escorted them to his car, and it wasn’t until they were safely inside his Porsche, did Keanu lean over the consul in an attempt to kiss her. Y/n wasn’t willing to make it that easy though, he was fine when they were alone but avoided being with six inches of her in public, it couldn’t work like that, she wasn’t something that he could just play with when he was bored. So, instead of letting him near, Y/n pulled away, her head jerking back. “What’s wrong?” Keanu furrowed his brows with real concern.
“You tell me,” Y/n’s lips pursed, and she stayed like that, huddled against the passenger door, "You're the one acting……"
"Acting like what?" Keanu stood his ground, shifting in his seat to face her properly. Y/n could tell he knew exactly what she was talking about, though wasn't as willing to admit it.
"Like you don't want people to know about us," she folded her arms across her chest, imposing a physical barrier between them, unwilling to waver as much as Y/n knew Keanu wanted her to.
"Come on Y/n," he chuckled humorlessly, his tongue quickly darting out to nervously moisten his lips, "You just got back, you really wanna do this now?"
Y/n thought that Keanu almost sounded exasperated, still though, she pushed, "So I'm right?"
Shaking his head, his ran sticky fingers through his hair, disturbing its wind tousled neatness, "I never said that."
"You never say anything," emphasis lingered in the last word, "And you don't have to either, the way you act when we're out says enough."
When he reached out for her hand, Y/n pulled away, and if it were possible for her to recoil further into her seat, she might have, "Come on babe," Keanu sighed heavily, "You're blowing this out of proportion, you know how people will talk if they find out."
By then, stinging tears had gathered in her eyes, and Y/n knew that he was trying to downplay and dismiss her suspicions, and the worst part? It was working. She knew he was lying, the problem wasn't the press, the problem was him. It was them. But he was never going to want to talk about it. So instead, he'd sell her a lie, one she'd readily swallow if it meant she could keep him. "So you want us to just…….hide?"
"Just for a while," there he went with a another lie, "Maybe when you're older, or when we're in a better place," that time, when Keanu reached out, Y/n begrudgingly let him take her hand, relaxing ever so slightly when his thumb traced her knuckles, "I'm just trying to protect us. Protect you."
She didn't want to believe him, but she loved him. God, she loved him. Knowing full and well that he probably didn't love her back. And because of that she'd take whatever he sold as the truth, for as long as she could. Y/n would forgive the pain he'd cause and ignore the warnings. She'd do a lot, if only it meant that she could prolong the inevitable.
"Okay," she breathed tearily, feeling the warmth slowly trickle down her cheeks. Reluctant at first, Y/n eventually let her resolve crumble as Keanu reeled her in.
"Come 'ere," he mumbled, Keanu's free hand tangling in her hair and his hold on her wrist loosening. "I missed you," he added quietly, laying his lips on his, in a salty, bittersweet welcome back. In unison, their mouths worked, and Y/n let her eyes slipped closed, tilting her head and cupping his neck.
As they continued Y/n let the weight of Keanu's untruths sink in, hoping that like everything else, it would lighten as time wore on.
*******
Tagging- @harrisongslimited @paanchu786 @thesadvampire @fanficsrusz @fickensteinn @ladyreapermc @babygirltaina @septimaseverina @snatchedbylele @omg-imagine @21stcenturyyfoxx @magnificentclodpiebanana @allie1804-fan @keandrews @greenmanalishi @rdjloverxxx @danceoftwowolves
#keanu reeves#keanu reeves x reader#keanu reeves x you#keanu reeves fanfic#john wick#john wick x you#john wick x reader#john wick fanfic#ff#fanfic#keanu reeves fanfiction#angst#lana del rey#put me in a movie#fanfiction
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Pick A Side (Part 13)
pairing: Taehyung x reader
word count: 2,244
genre: university!au; angst; romance; thriller; a lil bit of fluff
warnings: slight references to voyeuristic behaviour
previous part: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12
taglist: @destiel1597 @mila271 @hopetookmysoul @ximaginx@honeyursosweet @coffeecupyoongs@bangtanbaesstuff@annoyingpessimist @betysotelo18 @okaysoplshelpme@igot7bangs @tahaing @mochi-and-co @somewhereinthestarss
“I don’t want this thing to get any bigger than it already is... I just hope it dies down quickly and quietly. That is all I want now. I have no answer either. But somehow the world makes me feel that as the victim, finding the culprit, seeking justice, is not my priority”, Jihyun explained and stood up to leave.
“Jihyun...”, you called out to her.
She didn’t turn around but she did stop moving towards the café’s door.
“Don’t be fooled into thinking that he’s on your side...”, you preached.
She suddenly felt a surge of irritation, she spun around and stalked back towards Taehyung and you.
“My side? Then are you on my side? Is he on my side?”, she raged as she pointed at Taehyung. “Just because he’s here with you, you think he’s on your side now? You should be the one being worried about getting fooled, Y/N. Don’t be too happy now... we may all be in the same boat in the end.”
You suddenly felt a sense of embarrassment and a tinge of guilt. Who were you to be preaching a lesson to her? Everyone faces life with a different set of lenses. We have experienced different things, we have met different people, we have walked different paths. Thus, the specifications of our lenses cannot be the same. Even when we face that same landscape, that same frame, how we capture it and how the final picture develops, will ultimately be dependent on those lenses.
You watched Jihyun walk out of the café and you thought to yourself, we always assume people share the same values and the same world view as us. That’s why it is difficult to understand when they see things differently from us. And when we don’t understand why they don’t think like us, we conclude that they stand against us, that they are on the other side.
Jihyun stalks on, her winter boots clicking against the dull pavement. She kept her eyes on the ground as she walked along. She never used to be this way. She used to enjoy seeing the view on her way, but now she just doesn’t want to meet anyone’s eyes. The moment she does, she wonders whether they know about her, whether they are judging her.
Out of nowhere, you rushed out in front of her, cutting her path. She was befuddled at your persistence. But then again, maybe you are just desperate to save Taehyung from this situation. You will probably never see it from her view – that what you are asking her to do, is to believe a guy who has hurt and abandoned her, and to give up on one who had supported her through the most difficult times.
“Jihyun, I’m trying to-”, you started
“Y/N,”, Jihyun sighed and you immediately stopped talking, because you know you needed to hear her out, you needed to figure out what kind of lenses she has now. “Is it weird if I think that you must be happy this happened to me? Is it weird that I think you must also be happy to know that Taehyung never truly loved me? Even if it’s weird, that is what I think. And I have been suppressing and suppressing it, telling myself to not see you as the same petty person that I am. But here you are, making me doubt the only person that is keeping me stable now. Don’t... push me further please, I think I might really go crazy...”, Jihyun’s words were just pouring out.
“You are petty...”, her face said it all, she was shocked that you would say it so abruptly and directly, “... but so am I. All the times Taehyung took your side. Every time I saw your triumphant smile, it’s as if I was the pettiest girlfriend who ever existed. I always thought to myself, I hope one day you will be in my shoes and will realise how it felt. But I’m not happy now either, Jihyun...”, you said.
She was skeptical, she even scoffed lightly but that did not deter you from explaining, “... because I was the one who went around drawing those lines, separating myself from this person, from that person. If you are not standing on my side of the line, I get hurt. With these rules I made for myself, how can I ever expect to be happy?”
You cannot deny that it is human nature to want to be sided with, but when you start obsessing over it, when everything is either your side or not your side, that becomes counter-productive, or in some ways, it can manifest into ‘jealousy’.
“If I'm not making sense to you... what I'm really trying to say is that I was wrong to think that everything is black and white, my side or your side or whatever... what I'm getting at is that not everything is about picking a side, Jihyun. You are still my friend... I just want to help you, just like I want to help Taehyung too. There can be no other reason why I am doing this...”, you pleaded with her.
“After all that has happened, you think we are still friends?”, she asked, very incredulously.
“Why not? Even after all that has happened, you believed that I wasn’t the one who took those photos of you, right?”, you questioned.
She kept quiet and still, silently acknowledging it.
“And despite your getting together with Taehyung not long after our break up, I believe you were just friends with him while I was dating him. I just wanted to tell you that”, you said.
“I liked him”, Jihyun suddenly said. “I liked Taehyung before you guys got together. But when he was with you, I never intended to snatch him away. I was just not used to him prioritising another girl, we were best friends for a really long time you know...”, she said softly.
“I know...”, you replied.
There was a long silence, both of you not really looking at each other but still stealing glances from time to time until Jihyun broke the silence, “He really locked up you up on the rooftop? Haejoong?”
You nodded, showing her a frost bite you had gotten on the sides of your palm. “It’s not about whether you believe me, it’s about what is the truth, we need to find out...”
---
As Jihyun walks into the police station, Haejoong was sucked into his own vacuum amidst the bustling scene.
A lot ran through his mind in a matter of seconds, and he stood up from his seat, his hands still cuffed in front of him as he approaches Jihyun. You wanted to jump at him a second time, but Taehyung held onto your wrist and shook his head at you.
“Jihyun...”, she winces as he calls her name. Just as he inhaled to say something again, one police officer shouted from across the room.
“Hyung, the room’s cleared!”, he pointed towards a corridor at the same time.
Haejoong was moved into an interrogation room. Unlike the dramas it wasn’t dimly-lit, but it was shabby-looking. The police quickly got down to taking all of your statements before they will proceed to question Haejoong. Once your statements were given, Helen, Taehyung, Jihyun and you, were all told to leave. You were not allowed to watch the interrogation anyway.
Jihyun requested to speak to Haejoong for just five minutes but was rejected by the policemen. “Come back after we are done questioning him, Ms Kim”, was all they instructed her.
---
The next day you walked into class, that same one that you used to hate because of Jihyun and Taehyung, and used to find refuge in sharing the class with Haejoong.
Some of your classmates were looking at you fleetingly, curious but not wanting to make actual eye contact. You took a deep breath and intended to bulldoze through the stairs to your usual seat at the back of the room, but a voice caught you by surprise.
“Y/N”, you turned to see that it was Hyesoo, the teaching assistant who had called you. “These are mine, it’s only for your reference, don’t write on them, don’t crumple them and make sure you return it to me once the project is done”, she nagged and shoves a notebook into your face.
You looked at the book with utter confusion and then back at her.
“What? All four of you have been so caught up in producing your own little school drama that you forgot the project is due next Monday? With the number of classes you guys missed, and having one groupmate held in a police station... why do you keep looking at me like that, you don’t want my notes? Fine... give it back”, she sneered.
She almost snatches the notebook from your grasp but at the last moment your fingertips stuck onto them and tore it back from her.
“No no I just totally forgot about the deadline... thanks sunbaenim...”, you stammered.
Her haughty air doesn’t let down, and her hair flips as she turns to walk away to her seat again.
---
Taehyung and Jihyun were nowhere in sight during the class, so you messaged him asking where he was but there was no reply. You walked listlessly out of the building after the class ended, thinking whether to give Taehyung a call or to drop by the student office first.
“Y/N”, it was Taehyung’s voice and you scanned around in the crowd of students, finally spotting him standing not far from the landing of the stairs that led out from the school building. Jihyun was next to him and as you approached them you noticed how her eyes were all red and swollen.
“I called Jihyun this morning to make sure she would go for class, but she didn’t pick up and when I went to her room... she stayed up the whole night, I just couldn’t leave her there alone”, Taehyung explained.
You nodded.
“Are you feeling okay?”, you asked her.
“I want to go meet him”, Jihyun said.
---
“Why?”, she asked Haejoong who was sitting across the table from Jihyun and you. The police only allowed two people to meet him at one time, so Taehyung volunteered to wait outside, a little too willingly.
“Why?”, he wasn’t mimicking her, he was genuinely bewildered that she didn’t understand him, his choices. He continued to peer at her, his hands hidden below the table.
“I have so many questions, I don’t even know where to start”, she would pause a little between her words but she looked at him with a coldness resembling the season.
“Because I like you... I would think you would know that by now-”, Haejoong answered but a scoff from you cuts him off.
“Funny... that’s what you said to me not too long ago too...”, you spat sarcastically.
He doesn’t even so much as glance at you, he was only fixated on Jihyun.
“That was different”, he asserted without missing beat.
You pouted your lower lip and slowly bobbed your head. “It was different... hmm... I thought about it for really long. Why is it that you liked Jihyun but approached me at the start?”
He finally turns to you, his eyes rather unconcerned about your phishing attempt.
“You wanted to see if Taehyung would get jealous? You wanted to make Taehyung leave Jihyun...? You were just using me to achieve that?”, you theorised, you spoke slowly and peeked twice at Jihyun to make sure she was not too affected.
“He doesn’t love her... she deserves to know that...”, Haejoong hisses at you in response.
“Then why?! If you like me, why would you make everyone shun me like that... by taking those photos and videos?”, Jihyun bursts out at him eventually.
“I didn’t make them shun you, Jihyun... don’t you see it? None of those bastards who claim to like you will stay by your side when it really matters. After Taehyung left you, they think they stood a chance”, he mocked and they would circle you like bees circling a flower, but look how they all just fly away when you face the smallest problem”, his answer sounded like he was trying to pacify a child who didn’t know better about the horrible world.
“And you? You created the problem just to save me from it!”, Jihyun’s voice reeked with disbelief.
“No! I didn’t create the problem... I was only showing you the problem. I was showing you the truth, Jihyun-ah!”, Haejoong leaned in as he shouted his reply at Jihyun. He was taken aback; this was the first time he raised his voice at her.
“You are crazy...”, Jihyun whispered as she gripped her thighs to stop her hands from shaking.
You reached out your right hand and gently placed it over her tightening left hand.
“And it still wasn’t enough...”, Haejoong said with a dejected yet chilling expression.
#series: pick a side#btsboulangerie#bts#bts fanfic#taehyung fanfic#kim taehyung#bts v#btsfic#taehyung fic#bts fan fiction#taehyung fan fiction#bts x reader#taehyung x reader#taehyung angst#bts angst#bts romance#taehyung romance#bts drama#taehyung drama#bangtan#bangtan boys#bts fan fic#taehyung fan fic#kpop#kpop fan fic#kpop fan fiction#kpopfic#kpop fanfic#bts imagines#bangtan imagines
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Getting Me a Little Bit | t. holland | part 2
Not My Gif
summary: toms an angel but his life begins changing when he meets one of the most dangerous monsters he’s ever heard of, you. angel!tom and demon!au
warnings: cursing, uh angels? blood and stuff
note: yea idek why i made a part 2 tbh but make sure y’all request!!!
Walking into the Office of Heavenly Affairs, Tom is nervous. Y/ns walking next to him, somehow acting confident and innocent at the same time. She has a small smile on her face and a file in her small hands and she’s leading Tom through the building like she’s been here multiple times before. It isn’t until they arrive into the Demon and Unholy Creatures Department that he realizes y/ns winging this whole thing. He watches her as they both walk up to the secretary’s desk. The secretary, Harmony, recognizes Tom, but her face twists in confusion when her eyes meet Y/n.
“Tom, they’re almost ready for you in the conference room. May I ask who you are?” Harmony speaks to y/n.
“Harmony, I know i’m not down in this division a lot, but I do find it insulting that you don’t remember me. But I forgive you.” Y/n smiles sweetly, showing a ID badge with her name and picture on it. Harmonys eyes widen in shock.
“I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve met” Harmony speaks. Y/n sighs and rests on her elbows on the desk, looking into Harmonys eyes. It’s only a few seconds but suddenly Harmonys face flashes with recognition.
“Ms. Y/n! My deepest apologies, i don’t know where my mind has gone, please forgive me. Are you on official business with Agent Holland?” She smiles typing things into her computer.
“Yes I am, it was great seeing you again.” Y/n smiles, tapping the desk before looking at Tom and winking and walking away and towards the conference room where the meeting will be held.
She waits at the door for Tom and he pulls it open, straightening his collar while walking in. He and Y/n walk up to the table and sit down.
“Ah, Agent Holland, im fairly busy today so- oh, who is this?” One of his directors speak now looking at y/n, who immediately stands and hands the file over.
“Hi, I’m Y/n over at the Government Division, as you know, our reports show there’s a suspected 434 demons and other unspeakable creatures in the government in New York City alone, not including Lower Statten Island, but once we tackle our larger issues we’ll take care of the smaller challenges. Anyway, I was doing work in Hell’s Kitchen last night and realized you had field agents stationed there, specifically in The Devil, a popular nightclub. Now that’s not his fault, but it is yours because it has come to my attention that you haven’t alerted us or anyone for that matter about suspected demon activity, now as you know that’s a serious offense and I would hate to see a lot of your hard work be wasted simply because you were careless on a small intel project.” She finishes and looks sweetly at all the Angels sitting on the opposite of the table.
“We sent Agent Holland because we believe there to be a succubus in that nightclub, we didn’t think we’d have to alert anyone about our own mission. What did you say your name was again?” The first Director speaks up, looking her up and down.
“What is it with you guys today? Is there something in the water? Y/n with the Government Division. Have you not been getting my memos?” She puts her hand on her hip and looks at all of them.
“Uh no, I mean yes mam we have, but we had a credible lead that-“
“Well your lead isn’t as credible as you think, Tom, please give them the status report from last night.” She looks at Tom and nods.
“Oh uh, upon entering I saw no suspicious activity, everything was surprisingly human. I was there for a while and no trace or word of a succubus in that club,” Tom gulps, he hadn’t realized how much he didn’t think of what he was going to tell them.
“Great, so, I think you it’s safe to say you can stay out of GDs jurisdiction and we can avoid stepping on each other wings. It was lovely seeing all of you, see you at the Christmas gathering.” Y/n speaks, grabbing the file back and walking out of the room.
Tom is dismissed immediately after and jogs to catch up with her.
“What was in that file, they believed everything you were saying,” Tom gasps.
“Oh it’s empty, i just projected whatever I was saying onto the file and it appeared, simple illusions. Now shall we go get lunch?” She smiles, clothes changing as soon as she steps out of the stark white building.
—
2 weeks later and Tom has been hanging out with the literal spawn of satan nearly everyday. Except for last week when Y/n disappeared for 4 days and came back looking a little worse for wear. She demanded Tom to not talk about it or even question her when she arrived at his place.
Toms been neglecting his heavenly duties to spend more time with her. Although it always made him sick when she brought men to his place while he was out for a bit. He hoped it wouldn’t be a regular occurrence in the future.
He hadn’t seen her today however, she said yesterday that she had important things to do and wasn’t sure when she’d be back. She seemed annoyed at whatever she had to do, but Tom held his tongue.
He sat in his living room, eating spaghetti and watching a beautiful nature documentary. The polar bear cubs struggling to find food always struck a cord in Tom, it seemed so cruel and unfair. He watched as camera men followed penguins and seals around for 5 months and analyzed their behavior.
He’s interrupted by a quiet knock and then a large thump against his front door. He stands and moves quietly to the door, wondering who could be knocking at 11pm on a Tuesday? Y/n always appears in whatever room he’s in, usually scaring him half to death.
He slowly pulls open the door and her smaller body falls into his arms. Y/ns halfway covered in dark blood and her horns look battered. She looks up at him and her face is covered in cuts and more dried blood. Her “human” eyes are hidden and the whole space is covered in black with low flames flickering. She smiles lightly and he can see her sharp teeth barely poking out.
He pulls her in and lays the demon on the couch, spewing questions in her direction.
“Tommy, relax. You yelling at me ain’t gonna cure my headache” She winces, clenching her jaw.
“Y/n, what happened” He asks softly.
“Don’t wanna talk about it” y/n goes to turn over but quickly hisses and grab her ribs.
“You have to” He stands up straighter.
“I don’t fucking want to” She nearly growls. He’d be more scared if she wasn’t so pathetic looking.
“Y/n, I don’t care what you want to do. You need to tell me what happened so I can help you, NOW!” He shouts the last part and she almost chuckles at how adorable the angel looks yelling at her.
“had’t go t’hell and ran into s”trouble with m’dad” She mumbles, looking at the TV instead of Tom.
“I can’t hear you when you mumble” He says rolling his eyes at her stubbornness.
“I had to go to hell to do some shit and Lucifer found out I was there and decided to meet with me but things took a bad turn and I got my ass kicked by a bunch of leviathans while my dad watched” She spits out, louder and clearer.
“Oh”
“Yep, and since they beat me so damn bad, none of my powers or magic works, had to walk all the way here from the nearest portal, which i’m not sure if you’re aware, is VERY far” She pushes through and sits up on the couch.
“Why did he do it?” Tom asks quietly, unsure of the question was upsetting.
“Eh, there’s a few reasons. Main one being he’s god damn Satan. The other is he found out I was at the Office of Heavenly Affairs, got pissed and accused me of being a traitor” She shrugs like the information is nothing, leading Tom to wonder how much stuff y/ns already dealt with.
“Well, uh. I can do my best to patch you up and you can sleep in my bed.” Tom pushes his glasses up on his face and rushes to get some things to help, he doesn’t usually get hurt so he’s not super prepared, but he’s got the basics.
He spends a few minutes trying his best to disinfect her most serious wounds and cleaning the voood off of her. His hands are shaky as he sews a few cuts up but she doesn’t seem to notice, by looking at Y/ns face, you wouldn’t even know she’s in pain. She’s staring at the now black TV, watching her blurry reflection. Her eyes have gone back to normal and her horns have retreated, though it’s still not easy to read her. Tom usually prides himself on being able to read body language but he’s drawing a blank with y/n. Is she mad? maybe upset? maybe just tired? He’s not sure.
“Thanks tommy.” She winks as he wipes the last bit of ointment on her skin. She stands and clenches her jaw to stop from groaning in pain.
She walks towards the front door, leaving Tom in complete and utter confusion before he snaps to action.
“Wait! What? You can’t leave you’re hurt and in pain, you-“
“I’m fine” She shrugs, not turning around.
“No you aren’t! Why are you denying this, you need to stay here.” Toms eyebrows furrow together.
“Why does it fucking matter?” She finally turns around, eyes switched back to her demon form.
“Because you’re my friend,” Tom speaks quietly. He looks down at the ground afraid of her glare.
“Let’s get one thing straight Thomas. I don’t need a friend, which means i don’t need the bullshit that comes with them. I don’t need you to care about me got it? I’m perfectly fine without you, so don’t act like I need you to survive or like you’re the goddamn air i breathe. You’re nothing to me but an idiot fucking angel. So i’m gonna fucking leave and you’re gonna fucking let me. Any questions?” She throws her hands towards him. His head shoots up at her.
“You came here? You didn’t go to the club, you walked all the way from the nearest portal, which is 34 blocks by the way, you needed someone and you came here. Don’t get mad just because you want to be the one to hurt someone instead of the other way around. So you can leave if you really want to y/n, but don’t lie about why you’re doing it because you’re only fooling yourself” He spurts out, face red and hands shaky.
Y/n doesn’t say anything for a while. Just stares in anger, her eyes fill with tears and she quickly wipes them away as they fall.
“I don’t wanna be friends anymore Tom, that’s it.” She shakes out between her deep shudders of breath. She turns and limps out quickly, slamming Toms front door behind her.
#imagine#tom holland#tom holland imagine#tom holland stan#tom holland headcanon#tom holland x reader#tom x reader smut#tom x reader#angel!au#demon!reader#succubus!reader
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Bloody Things and Broken Wings (Chapter 5)
Morgan pads inside, her steps even carefully quiet as she approaches her hero. She steps up beside his bed, reaching out a small hand and laying it on top of his, where it's resting lightly on the blankets over his stomach.
Tony watches from the doorway, a small smile growing on his face. He's glad Friday is watching, because he'll want the stills of it later.
Then Morgan gasps from across the room.
Here come the beginning of the feels...
Tony doesn't know how to feel about how the last hour and some had turned out.
On one hand - kid fell asleep in the tub; that was bad, and he again felt bad for having to see him so exposed when he was still clearly uncomfortable around him. On the other, he'd been comfortable enough to fall asleep, and had not only not panicked but had fallen back asleep against him when he carried him out. And when he wasn't conscious, the walls he'd clearly been so desperately trying to keep up had come down, leaving the kid clinging to him with spider powers, seeking human comfort that he clearly hadn't had in way too long. And despite his attitude when he was awake, Tony knows that that wouldn't have happened if Peter was actually still as uncomfortable as he was trying to be.
And while he was clearly trying to keep that distance there, even that had started to slip a bit when Peter had woken up against him. He still sounded resigned to most of what Tony had said, still resistant to most of the decisions he made, but not enough that he's actively fighting anymore, which implies at least a beginning level of trust. He can work with that. Not to mention the fact that he didn't even want Tony to help him sit up when he'd first woken up, and today he'd made no protest to basically cuddling with him while he was awake. He'd tried to unstick his hands, but he hadn't actually tried to pull away. If anything, he's certain he felt him lean a little more into him. That was definitely progress.
Speaking of his decisions… He almost doesn't realize the phone had picked up in his ear until he heard a voice say, "Tony?"
"Bruce. I need a favor," Tony says as he steps out and pulls the door closed behind him.
"What kind of favor?" Bruce asks, suspicion clear in his tone. Tony rolls his eyes.
"Don't sound so suspicious. It's not what you think. I need your medical expertise, actually."
He can almost hear the way Bruce's eyebrows shoot up in surprise through the phone. "Medical? Is someone hurt? Did Morgan break her leg or something? Because I know how scary it is, but there's not much I can do about the little things, Tony, and it's not good for you to-"
"It's not Morgan," Tony interrupts. He wants to be irritated that they think he's so irrationally overprotective, but, well… isn't that exactly what he's doing, being irrationally controlling and overprotective of someone who, really, he has no claim on? "It's not me or Pepper, either, actually," he continues, forcing the thought away. "It's… well, it's a bit complicated. It's a pretty special patient. He's not… human, exactly. I mean, human, but not completely," he adds, before Bruce can get the wrong idea.
"O...kay," Bruce stretches out, clearly confused. "Who and what are we talking about, exactly?"
Tony sighs, already anticipating the response. "Spider-Man," he admits reluctantly. "And he's...actually a mutant, although to what extent I honestly don't know."
Bruce is groaning before he's even finished speaking. "God, Tony. You really… we agreed-"
"It wasn't- he crashed through the wall of the tower! What was I supposed to do, let him bleed out on the floor? Besides, I- we owe him, Bruce. Big time. Not only has he been covering our asses for the past six years, but he's been tortured. Multiple times, if what he's accidentally revealed is anything to go by. Including by people looking for us." He hears Bruce's breath catch, but presses on. "And I-" he hadn't voiced this suspicion aloud, hadn't dared let himself think to hard about the implications of it, but… "I don't think he has anyone, Bruce. Because of the whole hero gig or the snap or what, I don't know, but…"
"How can you tell?" Bruce's voice was quiet.
"I don't know. I just can," he answered honestly. Maybe it was the utter lack of trust, or the desperation that hinted he had no hope at all, or the way he clearly was afraid of being close to him but then seemed to cling to it when it was forced on him. Maybe it was just parental instinct. But he is sure. Besides, surely if he had someone, he would have been even hinted at the possibility of wanting to talk to someone outside the tower by now; if he was close with anyone, they should have been his first thought when he woke up and found out what had happened, right?
Bruce exhales a long breath, and Tony holds his as he waits for an answer and is greeted by a minute of silence. "I can be there in an hour or so," he says finally. "But I can't make any promises of what I'll be able to do. What are you even wanting me to do?"
He lets out the breath. "He's pretty banged up. I need a full rundown of injuries, broken bones, all that, and a timeline for his recovery would be great."
A pause. "If he's really a mutant, then I'll need to do some tests. Otherwise I can't promise accurate results. Depending on the extent of his mutations, I still probably can't."
"Alright." He winces a little, knowing that this will likely be another argument, but says nothing. "We'll talk more when you get here, then. Thanks, Bruce."
"Of course. I'll see you soon." He hangs up.
Tony disconnects on his end as well and pockets the phone, feeling a bit lighter. He turns the corner to see Morgan sitting at the table with Happy, chatting away and coloring in a picture book, a barely touched sandwich and bowl of what was presumably soup sitting beside her. Happy nods to him as he enters and gets up, wandering away and pulling out his phone to make a call.
She sees the movement and immediately looks up at him and grins. "Daddy! How's Peter?"
"Spider-Man," Tony corrects, kissing the top of her head as he passes. "You can't go around yelling out his name, or he can't be Spider-Man anymore, remember?"
Morgan makes a face, turning back to her picture and picking another crayon. "Yeah, but… it's just us, so I can call him Peter!"
Tony sighs, but he's suppressing a smile. "Yes, I suppose so. Now eat your food." He plucks the crayon from her hand.
The little girl sticks her tongue out at him but pulls her food towards her, and giggles when he sticks out his tongue back before taking a big bite of her sandwich. Tony moves to the counter and grabs a bowl, getting some soup for himself and sitting down at the table.
"Daddy?" Morgan pipes up again, looking at him over her sandwich.
"Hm?" He's stirring his soup absentmindedly.
"How long is Peter going to be here?" She looks at him with wide brown eyes.
"Until he's better."
"How long will that be?"
"Bruce is coming today to help us figure that out." He takes a bite of soup.
Morgan straightens immediately, eyes bright. "Uncle Bruce is coming?"
"Yes. He'll be here in a few hours." Tony gets up to get a drink.
"Is he staying?" Morgan asks hopefully.
"That'll depend on how much care Peter needs and how long we decide to stay."
"How long are we staying?"
"I don't know, Morgan. It'll depend. Just eat for now, okay?" He fills a glass of water and sits down again.
She huffs but complies, and they eat in silence for a whole five minutes before she blurts, "When can I visit him again?"
Tony sighs, running a hand through his hair. "He's hurt, Morgan. He needs rest. And when I left he was asleep, so it might be a little bit. Besides," he points to her food again, "Little girls who don't eat aren't allowed to go visit their heroes. So you better get to it."
Morgan pouts for half a second, and when that gets her nothing, she takes a big bite of her food and throws him a pointed look.
"Thank you." Tony gives her a smile back, taking a bite of his own as if to say 'see, I'm doing it too.'
They finish quickly after that. As soon as Morgan's bowl is clean, she immediately turns to him and says, "Now can I see him again?"
Tony sighs a little, taking their dishes and setting them in the sink. He almost feels bad for giving in, but he also remembers how at ease Peter appeared around her before and thinks he won't mind, even if she does wake him up. "I… oh, alright. A quick visit. But he was sleeping, so we have to be quiet, okay? We don't want to wake him. He needs rest."
"I know! I won't, I promise!" Morgan is already sprinting down the hall, stopping just outside the door and waiting on him to catch up. "Come on, Daddy!" she stage-whispers.
"I'm coming." He reaches her in a few strides, and reminds her to be quiet with a finger to his lips before cracking open the door almost silently.
Morgan pads inside, her steps even carefully quiet as she approaches her hero. She steps up beside his bed, reaching out a small hand and laying it on top of his, where it's resting lightly on the blankets over his stomach.
Tony watches from the doorway, a small smile growing on his face. He's glad Friday is watching, because he'll want the stills of it later.
Then Morgan gasps from across the room.
Peter is awake before they enter, honestly.
He doesn't know what startles him into awareness, but he does immediately pick up on the two sets of footsteps right outside his door when he focuses on it. One set stops, and the other is light and nearly silent as it approaches. Too light to be an adult, but, acutely aware of the second presence that he's fairly sure is an adult, he doesn't move, keeping his breathing deep and even.
Then a small hand is draped over his, and before he can think better of it, his fingers are twitching in response, curling around the young girl's hand.
She gasps in delight, and he lets his eyes flutter slowly open. His gaze fixes on her first, then shifts to the shadow lingering near the doorway until she speaks and draws his attention back to her. "Petey! How are you feeling?"
Despite himself, Peter smiles. No one has ever called him that before, but he finds he doesn't mind. "I'm good, Morgan," he says softly. "Just tired."
Her face changes instantly. "Did I wake you?"
"No, you didn't," he assures. "I was just resting here. I can't really move, so there's not much else I can do. I'm actually glad to see you. Gives me something to do." He isn't actually lying; he was awake before she touched him, and really, there isn't much else he can do. Aside from thinking, and he's not really wanting to do that right now. He doesn't like the thoughts that take him every time he does.
She brightens, grinning. "I'll come talk to you as much as you want. And guess what! You'll be able to talk to new people soon! Uncle Bruce is coming to visit and fix you up, and then you'll be good as new!"
Peter files the name away as he smiles back at her. "Yeah? You think so?"
"Yeah! Uncle Bruce is the best! And he's helped fix all kinds of things, so I know he can fix you!" She squeezes his hand. "At least, he can when he's not big and green, but-"
"That's enough." Tony pushes off the door and walks inside, kneeling by the little girl.
"Big and green?" Peter repeats, right on the heels of Tony's words. He looks at the elder man, then back at the little girl, who is nodding frantically despite her father's words.
"Yeah! He's the Hulk! Well, he is sometimes, but usually he's just Uncle Bruce-"
Tony sees the way the kid's face changes instantly. He goes from amused and affectionate to confused and afraid in the span of less than a second, as soon as Morgan speaks.
"That's enough," he blurts, before he can think better of it. But the kid asks, he always does, and Morgan keeps going, blissfully unaware of exactly what she's about to do.
"Yeah! He's the Hulk! Well, he is sometimes, but usually he's just Uncle Bruce-"
Emotions flash over Peter's face too quick for Tony to process before he shutters them off again. Tony takes Morgan's arm. "Morgan, that's enough."
She stops, as if suddenly realizing the tension in the room. Her eyes are big and brown, wide as saucers, but he can't explain, not now. Not when he can't say anything else in front of the kid, not when-
Peter is sitting up with some difficulty, hands braced heavily against the nightstand but managing to get and stay upright. "You lied to me." The words are quiet but still every bit accusing.
"I didn't lie," Tony counters. "He is qualified. And he has dealt with people like you before. He-"
"And you just conveniently didn't tell me who he was? I told you about-" he stops, looking like he's swallowing down words with effort, his eyes flicking from him to Morgan for just a second before back to Tony. "How many of them did you tell?"
He's trying so, so hard to stay calm, to bite back words for Morgan, and it hurts something inside of Tony. "Kid, I didn't-"
"You obviously did. Did you even actually want to help me? Or was this about bounty the whole time? It just so happened that when I had information that could be prudent to people with more money you decided to give me to them instead? Is he even actually coming to look at me, or because he's the only one you thought could contain me?" The words are just spilling out now. Every word hurts, not only Tony, but he can also see the way these realizations are affecting Peter. He looks so small, sad, hurt, betrayed, and Tony has to swallow hard against his rising emotion to answer.
"I didn't tell any of the Avengers, kid. Bruce is a friend. He's just coming to look at you, I swear." Tony makes to step up to him, but he flinched visibly, and that draws him up short. Then Morgan is there, stepping up to him and taking the hand he's not using to brace himself up, eyes wide and earnest.
"Petey… why are you afraid of the Avengers?" she asks with quiet innocence that only a six year old could pull off. "They're good. They help people."
Peter takes a shuddering breath, forcing his eyes down from Tony to Morgan and giving her a bitter smile. "Oh, Morgan. You're just too young to understand." He squeezes her hand gently. "The Avengers haven't helped anyone in years. And they certainly haven't helped me while I was out there fighting their battles for them."
Morgan looks so confused. "But… the Avengers are broken up, but they've never hurt anyone...right?" She looks back at Tony, but he's frozen, hurt by the kid's words, the truth of them. He's right, and it kills him.
"They're not helping anyone either, Mo," Peter says, shoulders curved forward as he runs his fingers through his hair, and Tony knows every motion has to hurt. "More people are getting hurt now than ever because of their mess. And they've done nothing to clean it up. Actually-" his face scrunches up in irritation, "They've been quite vocal about their distaste for some of us cleaning up their messes. As if just because we want our identities to be a secret or because we have to use slightly different methods we're little better than criminals ourselves."
Tony knows what he's talking about, and it hurts all the more because he'd never meant Spider-Man when he'd said some of the things he had, and the media had never been meant to hear them and construe them in they way they had, either. What had been publicized of what he said had not nearly been the whole of it. And he couldn't really be held responsible for what the others said or did… right? It had been years!
Morgan only looks more confused. She looks at Tony, searching his face for answers. "But… Daddy has been helping you. And… you didn't say Spider-Man was bad, did you?" She looks back at Peter. "They would have helped you if they'd known you needed it! Daddy does support you! That's why he made your suit! Right?" She looks back at Tony, oblivious to Peter tensing under her, the shock going through him right then. "You would have helped him, right?"
I didn't. I kept lists of his injuries and watched from afar and gave him the suit to help assuage my own guilt but I didn't. I didn't help. Tony closes his eyes, running his hand down his face. "Morgan- honey, it's complicated-"
Morgan looks more hurt now than Peter does. Her whole demeanor morphs instantly, and she stares at him, aghast. "But… but you're Iron Man! You're supposed to be a hero! And you just… you just…"
Peter goes rigid, but Morgan doesn't notice. She only has eyes for her father. She's visibly shaken, staring at him with wide, wet eyes.
Tony sees the change in both of them and closes his eyes for a minute, trying to steady himself. When he opens them again, Peter is moving, trying to shove himself up, and Tony only has a second to react. "Friday, get Happy in here for Morgan," he orders, then he's across the room, trying to get to Peter before he hurts himself. He curses himself for not putting the cuff back on before he left earlier.
Happy is in there an instant. Thankfully, he sees the situation and just scoops up Morgan and goes out, closing the door behind him. Tony struggles to get a grip on Peter, who seems to be not entirely conscious of his actions, just desperate to escape.
Tony knows what he's going to have to do, and he doesn't like it. He tries desperately to get through to him instead. "Peter. Peter, hey, kid, c'mon-"
Taglist: @lyrical-harmony @httydlovena @jewelrnicorn @mentalyokay @sweatpants-romance
#my writing#mcu#mcu fanfiction#tony stark#peter parker#bloody things and broken wings#morgan stark#peter parker whump#iron dad#irondad#irondad and spiderson fanfiction#irondad and spiderson#tony stark fanfiction#peter parker fanfiction#marvel cinematic universe#marvel cinematic universe au#marvel cinematic universe fanfiction
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Amoretto - Chapter 5 - (Branjie) - dreamyunicorngirl
A/N I’ve been told this is a nice chapter of a not-so-pointless fanfic. Thanks Mags for being an amazing beta and friend :) Enjoy!
“You shouldn’t be here.”
An ice cold shiver graces each unclothed inch of skin as each word drips down her naked soul. Her heart touched by every syllable, as the voice keeps her fleshy organ tight in its grasp. A whisper surfaces at the back of her mind - a much younger voice, clear as the day she first heard her - You shouldn’t be here, Brooke.
Brooke’s breathing picks up its pace as a sharp tremor erupts through her hands. It couldn’t be?
In a daring pirouette the blonde woman turns around to face her fear, eyes flickering across the hall, frantically searching for the source. Faded memories press play on the movie in her mind - one that Brooke hastily closes her eyes from, too painful to relive. Neurons firing as her heart pulses each blood-cell through her shaken up figure, preparing for a long awaited reunion.
Yet all she can find is hollow emptiness.
————————
A flickering street light, seemingly about to give up on life, is the last source of light illuminating the scene.
Heavy, dirty wings drag across the wet pavement, head hung low, as the pain pelts against cobblestones. A dripping being looking up to the brightly lit window in the apartment building, a barely present smile creeps onto her lips - of course Vanessa is the only person awake at this ungodly hour.
As Brooke takes one step forward, the front door creaks open in a swift motion, letting the stranger enter. Feet barely gracing the wooden floor as her large wings carry the woman towards the 6th floor. Tenants sleeping safe and sound behind each closed door, unaware of the intruder in their home.
The blonde shifts from one leg to the other, staring at the dark green door in question. The gold digits indicating Vanessa’s apartment number double in her vision. Her red painted bottom lip pulled between her teeth as she slowly lifts her hand to knock - letting Vanessa decide over her presence for once.
After two loud knocks against the wooden floor, she lets her pale hand drop by her side, holding her breath - waiting. Minutes pass and Brooke’s mood begins to fall to an all time low again. Struggling to accept the fact that the Latina doesn’t wanna see her tonight. Yet the moment the blonde is about to turn around, the door opposite her creaks open, exposing a fragile woman hiding behind its frame. Blotchy red eyes and a runny nose stare back at her.
Brooke’s stomach drops the moment she sees the state Vanessa is in. Her thoughts swirl around, attempting to untangle an infinite number of questions. The Latina simply takes a step back, silently inviting the strange creature into her home. As Brooke follows the brunette to her bedroom, she gets a glimpse of the apartment. Plates shattered on the kitchen floor, broken picture frames littering the hallway, and an empty wine bottle standing next to the bathroom door. She had seen this case multiple times already, always asked to gift the woman with another heartbreak. Venus never giving the girl a well deserved break.
But not today, she reminds herself, today she is here on her own accord.
As the two woman reach the bedroom, the brunette just flops onto her bed like a sad sardine as the blonde hovers in the middle of the room, carefully studying her counterpart. Her large wings erupt into a fast flutter, a nervous tingle spreading through her limbs as she struggles with her own presence. Usually she would just draw her bow, let Venus’s hard to swallow truth speak for itself, and disappear again. But she isn’t here on Venus’s command. She isn’t here on anybody’s order - she came, because, well, why did she come? I guess, because i wanted to, Brooke admits to herself.
And it scares her. Scares her so much that she doesn’t want to waste another second questioning her behaviour. So all she can do now is focus on Vanessa, and for once deal with the mess she made.
As Vanessa rises from her laying position to a slumped creature and furiously rubs her itching eyes, Brooke joins her side. Her body slightly rests on the edge of the bed as she silently watches the brunette struggle to regain her cool.
“Vanessa.” The word barely make it past her lips, so soft that it is a surprise that Vanessa actually catches it. Droopy puppy eyes stare into an emotionless face keeping her fixated on the spot.
“Do you,” Brooke starts, not knowing what to say. “Can i help you?”
Vanessa silently shakes her head, grabbing an additional blanket from a pile of clothes on the floor and wraps herself in it, fulfilling her urgent need to be a burrito.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Brooke doesn’t get why talking should help, but she’s seen Vanessa’s friends ask her the same thing after each past heartbreak. She had kept an eye on her, just to be sure.
Vanessa shrugs her shoulders, and starts picking at the nailpolish on her thumb.
Brooke watches her, slightly worried at the woman’s lack of babbling.
“I can’t believe it. Vanessa Mateo, dead silent for once in her life,” Brooke whispers more to herself as she slowly shakes her head, an emotion unknown to her - compassion - leaking out of her ocean eyes.
“So what, and since when do you know my last name?” The voice not resembling her usual feisty demeanor.
“It’s written on your doorbell,” the blonde replies calmly, eliciting a light chuckle from Vanessa. Brooke smiles at her in return, inching a bit closer as she lets the silence wash over them. Trying really hard not to question why all of a sudden she cares enough to be there for her.
“He said I am too loud,” the brunette breaks the silence after staring at the wall for a while. Her voice still barely louder than a whisper, starting to shake at the last syllable.
“Wait, what - who?” Deep furrows appear between Brooke’s perfectly shaped brows.
“The guy from Tinder.” Her bottom lip is being pulled between her teeth as she watches Brooke’s reaction through teary eyed.
Brooke stares at her with utter confusion written on her face - not really sure who or what Tinder is.
“We went on a date tonight and he…” The brunette sniffles a bit as she tries to recap the day. Usually she prefers keeping the memory at the back of her mind until she pulls it back out to taunt herself, yet today she isn’t alone. She also isn’t with somebody who knows what a silent Vanessa means, and therefore needs to be given some context to her state.
“He jus’ gone listing all the flaws he found in the few hours we spend together. Felt like a fucking psycho on display. And then he just left without even fucking paying.” Vanessa takes a deep breath, trying to keep the tears from spilling again. “Meanwhile my ass was enjoying the evening.”
“I am so sorry,” Brooke Lynn whispered, not knowing what else to add.
“It’s not your fault.”
“Well it is…” Brooke admits while letting the bow she has been carrying for the past hour drop to the floor, suddenly not able to bare its weight. She takes a deep breath in preparation for what she is about to do. Within a swift motion she invades the other woman’s personal space for the first time, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth as she wraps an arm around Vanessa’s shoulder.
Breath hitches in her throat as Vanesa side eyes the blonde, resisting the urge to give a snarky comment for once, before giving in and letting her head drop onto her boney shoulder. Seconds pass before she dares to snake her arm around her waist as well.
“I’ve seen you humans do that a lot - am I doing it right?” Brooke whispers into the brunette’s hair, secretly enjoying the closeness of the other woman
Vanessa only sighs deeply and lets her entire body fall into Cupid’s embrace.
It feels like the two women spend an eternity wrapped up in each other arms, peace flooding their minds, giving their spirits time to rest. But Vanessa isn’t someone who can sit still for a long time, so it is no surprise that she starts twirling one of Cupid’s arrows between her fingertips. Her mind drifting of to the stories her mamá had told her about the three angelic goddesses send from the heaven above to bring mankind the love they deserved.
“I just, I - I don’t know, Mary, but I just wanna be happy with someone for once.”
“I know and I wish I could help you with that, but - but it seems like I am the one cursing you on repeat,” Brooke draws back from the embrace, looking down onto her own hands. Hands that have brought so much misery into this world.
“You know, my mamá once told me a story about three sisters, the daughters of Venus, each a different embodi-, emdobimen-, each of them representing a different kind of love.”
Brooke stares at Vanessa like she had just witnessed the death of her own mother, the muscles in her body tensing up all of a sudden, her face becoming even paler than it already was.
“Maybe that’s just some made up bullshit mothers tell their little daughter, but maybe - maybe, it’s a tale about you and your sisters. And maybe, just maybe, you are the one bringing unrequited love to people.” All of a sudden, Vanessa seems very confident in her assumption. ‘Cause what else could it truly be?
Another deep moment of silence rolls over them. Vanessa worries that she has said too much. The woman next to her still hasn’t shown any reaction - slowly starting to resemble a greek statue more than a living being.
“If that’s true, maybe you could hit up one of your sisters for me - you know,” Vanessa tries to cut the heavy tension with her usual joking manner, even adding a wink for good measure.
“I need to go.”
Life is breathed back into her motionless body.
“I didn’t mean right now, Mary,” Vanessa adds in a jokingly manner, hoping that will Brooke will keep her company.
“Goodbye, Vanessa,” Brooke says in a emotionless voice before she gets up to leave without saying another word - or even looking back. Leaving a still very heartbroken, maybe even more heartbroken now, Vanessa behind.
#rpdr fanfiction#brooke lynn hytes#vanessa vanjie mateo#branjie#lesbian au#angst#fluff#fantasy#aromantic cupid#amoretto#dreamyunicorngirl
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The Empty Space Next to Me
chap 1 (x) / chap 2 (x) / chap 4 (x) / chap 5 (x) / chap 6 (x) / chap 7 (x) / chap 8 (x) / chap 9 (x) / chap 10 (x)
Chapter 3
Steve goes back inside the house, feeling dazed, almost staggering. He holds onto the door frame in a sudden surge of finding solid bearings.
He is struck, punched in the guts, by the realization he might have lost Natasha. He wonders if she will ever remember who she is — if the magic of the Stone will ever allow it. But this is nothing compared to the other problematic that she does not want to remember. How can he bring her back if she refuses to go with him? He does not stand a chance if the reasons for her to stay outweigh the reasons for her to leave.
That man could be one of them.
Maybe she has found love.
How do you walk away from love to an unknown, seemingly daunting past?
Maybe he has lost her again. For good.
His mind clouded with all these thoughts assaulting him restlessly, Eliza calls his name from the living room.
“Is Katherine back?” she asks.
He tries to regain composure and walks into the room.
“I’ve just seen her go with…her friend, I think.”
Eliza deciphers the meaning of ‘friend’.
“Oh, yes. His name’s Jake. He’s a good guy,” she comments casually. “You might see him around a lot.”
Great.
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They arrive back in the house about an hour later. Steve turns to look over his shoulder. Jake is walking slightly behind her, grasping the tips of her fingers as her arm hangs slightly behind her back.
“Eliza, I brought you these. I know how much you love them,” he exclaims as he holds up a bunch of wildflowers.
The woman smiles. “Aren’t you a charm, Donovan? I see you’re eager to win the heart of all the residents of this household.”
“Just trying to play it smart,” he shrugs with a teasing smile as he hands them over to her.
His body then pivots toward the stranger in the room. Katherine eyes him with a slightly worried expression, Steve can feel. He stands up.
Jake has dark brown hair with faint green eyes. He has a stubble which conceals the outline of his oblong face. His hair is muffled and slightly curly at the ends. He is wearing a casual checked shirt which hangs loosely over his blue jeans. He overall has a scruffy but charming look which blends with their surroundings.
“Steve,” he says, holding out his hand.
“Jake,” the other answers, mirroring him.
They shake hands in a cordial manner but firm, slightly tainted with an unconscious demonstration of strength.
Jake is everything Katherine could want — he can see it so vividly it’s almost blinding. A simple man leading a simple and world-in-danger trouble free kind of life.
He is the soldier who cannot live without a war, and perhaps this suited Natasha Romanoff’s lifestyle. But Katherine finds peace alongside a fellow countryman.
Jake is the better choice. He is the obvious choice.
He, though, has already lost.
“Steve is our guest,” Eliza says as she replaces the flowers in the vase. “It’s his first time in Louisiana.”
Jake smiles. “Well, I hope you enjoy your stay. It doesn’t look like it at first but it’s a place you grow to love.”
Steve answers with a fixed grin.
Katherine steps in and presses a hand on Jake’s arm. He glances down at her and nods, taking it as the signal he should now leave.
He waves everybody goodbye and pecks her on the lips — Steve suppresses a quiet groan and gulps down instead.
Jake leaves the house and Katherine goes to the kitchen, serves Eliza some cool lemonade before disappearing into another room in the back of the house.
He hesitates to follow but eventually wanders through the unexplored area of the old mansion. He steps into a bright room with naked walls and windows and almost no furniture. At the center, Katherine is sitting on a stool, facing a canvas. She’s holding a worn paintbrush between her small fingers.
She senses his presence before the creaking floor makes her aware of it. She quickly glances over her shoulder then turns to the canvas again. He takes it as permission for him to come forward. He does so, very gently, cautious not to disturb or intrude.
He watches, with growing fascination, how she runs her brush across the canvas with a focused expressed and a deep frown on her forehead. Once she lifts the brush, she lets a breath out and slightly leans back to take a wider look at the picture. She then scratches the top of her temple with the other end of the brush and pushes a strand of her hair behind her ear.
“I didn’t know you could paint,” he remarks with a smile.
She dips her brush into the plastic cup filled with water.
“I didn’t know either,” she answers coolly. “It took many shots and just as many spoiled canvases to get something sort of decent.”
He squats down to be at her level and looks at the painting. His eyes wander across the bright shades of purple and copper gnawed on by the dominant dark tones.
“Definitely not gallery material,” she continues, “but this is what happens when you have too much time on your hands and no memories to grasp onto. That continuous silence in your mind, that blankness, it’s deafening. Painting became a good distraction from it. It keeps my brain busy in a good way. It’s soothing.”
He watches her tamed expression.
“I get it,” he murmurs. “I usually draw sketches when I need to sort out things. But for me, it’s when I want to quiet down some loud memories.”
She pauses in her painting and turns in his direction. She probes him for a few seconds.
“Looks like you and I are the same in different ways, strangely.”
He stares into her eyes like he has many times in the past.
“It’s always been like that between us,” he says. “We drew similarities in our differences.”
She nods musingly. “Maybe this is something worth exploring,” she says. “So long as you respect the boundaries I’ve set.”
They gaze at each other and he feels they are having for a moment. For the first time since he got there, he can feel they are reconnecting. Like an old wick rekindling.
The phone rings in the other room. She does not move immediately but is gradually pulled back to reality. She puts the brush down on the table and runs a hand through her hair. She then gets up and rushes out of the room.
Steve looks back at the painting with growing determination. He looks at the dark circle outlined with a dark yellow ring behind the heavy clouds, he looks at the grey dunes standing on the low sea, and the mountain standing ominously in the background.
He has hope again.
Natasha may not be gone, after all. And he can bring her back.
The picture proves it. He has seen the place that she painted before.
He has been there before.
And so has Natasha.
Vormir.
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He is hopeful he can make her remember. All it takes is a little push.
Or well, a series of small pushes.
He decides to start with the people that once mattered to her; maybe putting faces on her unknown past might make it less daunting and more appealing. So he drops names which, he hopes, will trigger her memory.
“Sam would be very impressed with your cooking,” he says casually while watching her from the counter.
She frowns. “Who’s Sam?”
“He’s a friend,” he begins, then adds, “he’s your friend, too. The three of us lived in motels together for a year.”
“Sounds kinky,” she comments indifferently, her eyes fixed on the cutting board.
He almost chokes in the lemonade he is sipping and coughs loudly, which brings a little smirk to her lips.
“No, no. Nothing like that! We were fugitives…on the run.”
She lifts up the board and drops the slices of vegetables in the boiling water.
“This is so much more reassuring,” she says drily with unconcealed sarcasm.
He runs a hand across his forehead and sighs.
The next morning, a neighbor living 5 miles East turns up with fresh milk and cream for his farm. Steve catches his name is George Donovan. A man in his late fifties with a thick southern accent and a prosthetic leg. Once he has dropped the crate, she wraps a couple of cookies in a towel and hands it to him.
“Don’t tell Carol I gave you these,” she says and kisses his cheek.
The man chuckles. “You know I never do. It’s our little secret.”
As Steve watches him walk away he cannot help but draw a similarity between the Louisianan farmer and another “father figure” of Natasha. The physical disability is another common trait.
“I don’t know what Fury would think of this,” he muses aloud. “He’s always seen you as his protégée.”
She frowns and looks at him. “Fury?”
“Technically he’s your boss but you have developed a far stronger bond over the years. He’s like a father to you.”
Her attention span quickly comes to an end and she starts emptying the crate that was just brought in. He feels like he needs to pique her curiosity.
“He’s got an eye patch, by the way. But nobody knows how he got it.”
She pauses and looks him dead in the eyes.
“So my mentor was a pirate?” she comments flatly, looking highly unimpressed.
He immediately realizes he has made a mistake. “Well, not exactly. In retrospect, the eye patch is only a detail. You barely notice it.”
Perhaps it is the weak counter-argument or the eye patch, but her dubious and perplexed remain plastered over her face.
He tries again after dinner, this time with something that has little to no risk of irking her. This one can’t fail, he is sure of it. He walks up to her and puts his phone on the table under her nose. She unenthusiastically looks down at it. Her frown turns into a look of utter confusion.
He smiles encouragingly. “These are Clint’s children. The youngest one was named after you: Nathaniel. They care about you. They call you aunt—”
“Kate, you’re here?” a voice calls from the entrance. She jumps out of her chair.
Jake appears into the room. “Got my evening free, I thought we could go to town to grab a drink.” She smiles.
“I’ll go and grab my purse,” she calls out while running up the stairs.
Steve has not moved from his spot. He rubs his chin slowly. She comes back a minute later with a subtle scent of perfume trailing behind her.
“Enjoy your afternoon,” Jake tells him with a nod. He answers with a silent nod.
She does not say a word, nor looks in his direction. She leads the way to the car.
She comes back later that night — the car lights shone through into his bedroom. He walks up to the window and looks. She walks around the car to the driver’s side and pokes her head inside to steal a kiss.
Steve can feel her slip away almost completely.
The next morning after breakfast, Eliza goes out to read on the porch. Katherine is the kitchen, washing the dishes. He is staring at his empty mug. Steve has been sulking all morning and it isn’t like she made any effort to engage a conversation either. It used to be so easy for both of them. Even their silences were intimate and clear conversations.
He has an idea. While she is wiping the kitchen counter, his fingers slowly push the mug over to the edge until it falls off. Her eyes flicker immediately to it and she leans over before she catches it in midair. She slowly stands back straight, staring at the object in her hand. And then her eyes slowly rise to look at him.
He is looking at her with a calm, but triumphant look.
“You say you’re no longer Natasha but your instincts don’t lie,” he begins. “This is who you are. It’s in your nature.”
Her stunned expression hardens. She clenches the mug.
“You’re wrong. I am nothing like Romanoff. She’s gone, okay? ” she says. “You have to stop whatever it is you’ve been trying to do the past few days. She’s gone. Romanoff is gone, and she’s never coming back. Saying being an assassin is in my nature will not bring her back, ok?”
His eyes widen. “That’s not what you were. You were an Avenger.”
“…with skills intended to be lethal and inflict pain,” she finishes. “I don’t want to have anything to do with that. I love my life here and nothing that you can tell me will ever change that, not even your attempt to guilt-trip me with pictures of children I don’t even know. I don’t know any of those people you keep referring to. This is all forever gone.”
She starts walking away.
“You do have memories,” he says. “That place you painted, it’s real. You’ve been there before, and it’s the reason why you painted it. It means you can remember.”
She turns around to face him and her features are tense. He soon notices her glassy eyes.
“That place is what my worst nightmares are made of. It would keep me awake at night until I started painting it. Now I know why, and it only confirms my old life is a terrible thing to remember.”
She walks up closer to him. “I told you I don’t want to go back to New York but you didn’t listen. Clearly, I’m not the one who needs to move on. You’ve found me and you know I’m fine. Now you need to leave.”
His throat tightens. She remains steadfast and imperturbable. “I want you gone by tomorrow.”
And with that, she walks away.
#romanogers#Steve Rogers#Natasha Romanoff#Black Widow#Captain America#fanfic#the empty space next to me#inneedofinspiration#stevenat#captasha#capwidow#steve x natasha#writing
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You Got What I Need (Part 5)
Part One II Part Two II Part Three II Part Four
Warnings: Swearing, Angst, and Mentions of Pregnancy,
Word Count: 3.2k
Hope you guys enjoy because next part is going to be something willddddd. Let me know what you think; love you all xx
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“Have fun?”, Sami teased as he glanced towards you and Rami as you both exited the bathroom at the same time; hands entwined.
“Shut up.”
Rami and his brother continued on in playful banter while you preoccupied yourself by watching the small infant sleeping next to you in his car seat, causing you to reflect on where your life was headed very, very soon.
It was happening. It was actually happening. In 9 months time, fuck, or even less than that, you would be in this very situation of lugging around a small human with you everywhere you went and caring and feeding and burping and-holy shit. There was just too much to take in and too many things to prepare for and, yes several months was a good amount of time, but was it enough?
What if i’m a shit mom? What if I fuck this kid up? Oh my god, what if its first word is fuck!
Absently, you zoned out, but the small movements and whines of the child brought you back to the present as you watched Ian’s tiny little fingers begin to wiggle.
“Finally!”, Rami immediately wrapped both of his hands around the infants body, lifted the boy up, and began cradling him in his arms. His cooing noises fully woke up the child as Ian opened his eyes and giggled once he got a look at who was holding him.
“There’s that smile”, Rami poked the little guys nose as he made a funny face, attempting to amuse the child.
“He probably thinks you’re me, so don’t be too flattered.”
“Fuck off Sami,” Rami winced at his curse word, knowing he’d get scolded for that later. “He knows who his uncle is, doesn’t he.”
You listened intently as Rami continued on a conversation with the infant paired with the most precious baby talk that, if you weren’t pregnant already, you’d be begging him to put a child in you immediately just so you could watch him do this everyday.
In due time, I suppose.
“Isn’t he cute?”, Rami shifted his body so you could get a better look at the baby as you nodded and tickled your fingers along his round tummy, causing a cute, high pitched squeal to come from Ian’s small lips.
He looked so much like his dad which also meant he looked a lot like his uncle, Rami, and, fuck, it was like I was getting a tiny glimpse into the future and I wasn’t hating it; not a bit. Even though one of the most important parts had still yet to come and I was still attempting to muster up some sort of strength and configuration as to when was the right time to say something.
“See, it wouldn’t have been so bad”, Rami whispered to you as he multi-tasked between taking a sip of his freshly ordered whiskey and rocking the baby in his arms. “I’m a pro already.”
You cocked your eyebrow at his blatant cockiness before being interrupted by your phone loudly making noise against the table. As your eyes glanced down to the screen you saw a calendar notification, specifically, a reminder about your ultrasound tomorrow.
Quickly, you swiped the notification away and turned your phone face down onto the table as you glanced towards Rami who seemed to be preoccupied with the baby and much too distracted to see what was displayed on your phone.
Suddenly, you were no longer in a heavenly haze, but more so an anxious spiral as your mind traveled back to all the things you needed to learn, all the things you need to buy for this child, and all the things you needed to say to the father of your child.
“Do you want to hold her?”, Sami’s wife smiled at you, attempting to pry the child from Rami’s arms.
“Uhmmm-Uh..”
Might as well get some practice in.
“Sure, yeah,” you nodded, reaching out your hands as Vanessa gently set the three month old infant in your arms.
Ian was a tad fussy at first, and you would be to if you were suddenly placed in some strange women’s arms, but Rami placed his head near your shoulder, making sure the baby could see his face and instantly Ian softened into your arms as he stared up at both of your faces smiling faces.
“See, not so bad right?”, you didn’t know if Rami was talking to you or the baby, but you decided to take his words as if they were directed at you because at the very least you could still hold on to the fact that Rami wouldn’t be totally upset when you broke the news to him, in fact, maybe he’d be over joyed. Maybe.
But all of this was just making you feel worse and worse by the second and you just had to say something. Even if it meant right now and dragging him somewhere secluded to tell him - you couldn’t bare to wait any longer.
“Can we talk?”, you whispered into Rami’s ear.
He looked at you a bit bemused, but nodded as he passed the baby back to Sami and finished the last of his alcoholic beverage.
“Want to go to my place?”
Oh god, did I? What if we ended up fighting and then i’d be stuck in his apartment with an angry or sad Rami and a very emotional me or what if i got distracted again (and by distracted, I mean had sex with him, making me forget how to even compose a proper sentence, let alone deliver important news).
Against your nerves, you nodded and quickly started putting your coat on, not wanting to waste any unnecessary time and just wanting to have this conversation done with. The only thing haunting you more than actually saying the two words to him, was the latter reaction. After our last altercation, you really didn’t know what to expect from him or how to even picture how he would react.
Rami and you said your polite goodbyes to his family, of course, Rami had to spend a little extra time holding Ian and whispering sweet words that, not even, you could make out; as if it were their own little secret.
After exiting the bar and getting into the Uber, you had requested, your bodies snuggled affectionately in the backseat and it was making you feeling as tipsy as Rami was, solely because it felt like you were back to normal and you were quickly going to ruin it..again.
But he deserved to know and he needed to know.
Anxiously, your leg bounced up and down giving your feelings away as Rami placed his hand atop your thigh.
“What’s eating you away right now?”
You bit your lip and shook your head, “Not right now. I want to talk about it when we get back to your place.”
Rami nodded, although his facial expression told you that he was still trying to conjure about ideas as to what you wanted to talk about.
“Is this about Ashley?”
Even the mention of her name made you grit your teeth, though you had no reason to be angry at her, she was oblivious to you and Rami’s situation, much like the rest of the world was, and she seemed nice, it was just, you were selfish and wanted him all to yourself. Even worse, you expected Rami to hold some sort of psychic ability and him to be able to understand your feelings without you having to utter a single word. If only things worked out like that; if only things were that easy.
“No,” you scoffed, “It’s not about Ashley.”
“Hey”, Rami nudged your chin, forcing your pouted expression to look towards him as his thumb rubbed against the skin on your face. “No need to be jealous..although you do look very cute when you’re like this.”
His fingers dug into your sides, tickling the exact spots that he knew could drive you to madness as laughter consumed you. You playfully slapped him away as your legs kicked, surely drawing the attention of your Uber driver to the two lunatics in his back seat.
“You promise this isn’t about her?”, you nodded as you attempted to control your laughter whilst Rami let his hands remain on one of your hips as he kept strong eye contact with you, making you wonder what that little brain of his was thinking about.
“What?”
He shook his head, “You really don’t get it do you?”
You threw a confused look his way as he, much to your surprise, brushed the hair, that was laying on your shoulder, away so it could fall down your back. Slowly, you found his lips attaching themselves to your hair as he pressed soft kisses and moved them along down until they were nipping at your ear.
“She was just a distraction,” He said directly into your ear between his various kisses, “I only want you, you should know that by now.”
His affectionate actions were sending shivers down your arms and as much as you wanted this so, so bad right now, you knew that he only meant it the way that most men would mean it. Ashley was a way for him to get a fuck since you were no longer an option and that pained you to no end to know that you were on the same list as Ashley; merely a fuck and a good time and who knows who else or how many others were on this list.
You lightly shoved rami away, moving your body closer to your side of the car as you let your gaze look out the window at all the various lights of cars, buildings, and street signs…but of course, Rami was persistent and when you felt his hand land on your thigh, you knew he would have those precious dilated pupils fixed on you.
All he wanted to do was know you and, once again, get inside your head; it was odd how this situation wasn’t too far away from the talk you had when you had your argument not that long ago. Of course, now it was much more calm, thankfully.
“Why?”
You knew exactly what he meant so you didn’t even bother looking at him or answering his question with another question as a light trickle of tears began to rain down from your eyes, down to your cheek as you furiously wiped them away.
“You’re clearly upset and all I want is for you to talk to me baby.”
God, did he really have to call me that right now. I usually loved that he called me sweet pet names, but now that I knew I was purely a way for him to get his sexual frustrations out, I wanted to just tell him I was pregnant and go home, alone and just cry as loud as I so fucking pleased.
“It’s just..i’m..it’s about us.”
“Us?”
You nodded, as you tried to create a path or some sort of timeline in your brain on how to deliver such dramatic news to him.
“What about us?”
You shook your head, “Not here. I don’t want to have this talk here, let’s wait til we are home.”
Rami respected your request and relaxed back into his seat for the remainder of the drive, his hand remaining on your leg the entire time as he subconsciously rubbed little patterns into your skin.
However, not even a second after you both walked into the door of his apartment, was he beginning to question you again.
Rami was deeply anxious, almost seeming scared of this talk and it was comforting to know that you both gave a shit. If neither of you cared, you both wouldn’t be so desperately clinging on to assumptions and nervous habits to attempt to guess what the other was going to say, or, in my case, how the other was going to react or fuck, how you even dropped this type of news in conversation.
“So, talk.”, Rami pulled out one of the bar stools from his kitchen island and patted the other one set next to him.
With a deep breath, you took the seat offered and planted yourself to the spot, promising yourself that you would remain rooted here until you told him. No more putting this off and making excuses. Even if you got distracted, this was it. In a matter of several hours you would be finding out the news about your baby and..this just wasn’t going to be put off any longer.
“Is this about our..uhm..relationship?”, He said the word ‘relationship’ with a giant question mark, not knowing what to call whatever it was you both had which was comforting seeing as you were just as questioning about it as he was.
“Sorta yeah I-”
“I think I feel it too.”
Your eyebrows pushed together, creating the slightest of creases on your forehead as Rami interrupted you, “What do you mean?”
Rami sighed, nibbling on his bottom lip as he ran a hand through his hair, one of this nervous habits that you adored.
“I like you.”
“I sure would hope so-”
“No I mean…I like you,” He took a deep breath as he attempted to carry on with what he so desperately wanted to say, but was finding it difficult to mutter because he was just as terrified as you were, him for different reasons of course, because he was clueless to the life growing inside your tummy that was his. Rami was more focused on telling you how he felt; how he really felt.
“I want to be exclusive.”
The heart in your chest began having heavy and hard palpitations as you listened to him speak, saying the words you would’ve adored to hear two weeks ago, but right now, this was all too much.
He couldn’t.
You were positive he was just saying what you wanted to hear so he could acquire you for a passionate evening of moans and groans. Absolutely no way was he into you like you were into him. No way were you that lucky, no fucking way.
“Say something please”, Rami reached out his hand to yours, holding your hand in his palm as his eyes pleaded with you, nearly begging on their knee’s for you to say some type of words to either reassure his mind that you were feeling this too, or to completely deny these feelings and to let him down.
“What exactly do you mean when you say exclusive Rami?”
Rami had thought the hard part was over, muttering those words was difficult enough because he knew when he said them there was no going back and once there was no going back that meant things would change and right now, even though it had only been a minute or so since he exclaimed his need for some sort of exclusivity with you, things were different. For good or bad, who was to say.
“I want you all to myself.”, his voice was raised slightly above the volume of a ‘hum’ as he knew he was beating around the bush. Not saying the exact words of what he wanted was an aspect of him you were still trying to grasp. He was one to always be honest and open with you, but it took several attempts to slack it out of him until he would eventually succumb and be straight forward.
“Okay so you want to be the only one to fuck me?”
“God, Y/N this isn’t about having sex this-this is so much more than that.”, Rami said this rather annoyed and aggravated that you would dare to even entertain the thought that, in his mind, you were just a good fuck he was comfortable with getting. You were so much more than a way for him to get his dick wet, but you were also the most stubborn woman he had come across and yet, you were the woman he wanted.
“Okay, then tell me what the-”
“I want you to be my girlfriend.”
Dear God. Dear holy fucking Jesus of Nazareth. Kindly excuse my blatant swear directed at a biblical character, but the reaction seemed appropriate and-oh my god he just asked me to be his girlfriend.
“You can’t be serious.”, instantly, you regretted your poor wording as Rami’s eyes drooped down in the slightest movement, making the rest of his facial features fall into a sad placement as his eyebrows furrowed together in the cutest way.
“I don’t mean-I-”, You fought the words trying to tumble out of your mouth, but you genuinely had no clue what to say. These were the words you had longed to hear, but now that you were hearing them and living with them and breathing with them and pondering over them it was terrifying.
Not only did you have to worry about the small thing growing inside of you, but now you had this on your plate and no matter how desperately the words ‘i want to be your girlfriend too’ wanted to fall from your lips, your mind was busy thinking over all the details of what would actually happen if you both indeed did date.
“I’m just shocked is all. I wasn’t expecting you to feel that way.”
“Is it bad that I feel this way?”, Rami said with a soft expression as his thumb started caressing your hand while he genuinely questioned you.
A small smile graced your lips as you shook your head and bit your bottom lip, causing Rami to let a smile cover his face that accentuated his jaw. You both remained silent after a while, you, thinking over all the outcomes and pros and cons of being with me, and Rami just simply wanted you to say yes already. He didn’t regret saying that he wanted you to be his, in fact he was instantly relieved and felt a giant weight fall from his back.
“What if I said I wanted that as well?”, Rami’s face instantly brightened up even more so than it already was,
“Just say yes. God, you’re so stubborn”, he spoke with a laugh on the heels of his words.
“Me? Stubborn? Never!”
“Mhm sure. I can play pretend to ya know.”
Whilst scooting his bar stool against the hardwood floor as he stood up from his seating position, he came to rest in between your legs as you still sat in your stool, his hands instantly went to your jaw as he watched your every move; what your eyes were doing, what your facial expressions and body language could give away to him so he could find any sort of sign of how you were feeling.
“Are you going to make me ask again?”
“Well, technically you never asked, you just made a statement.”
Rami shook his head letting a grumbly laugh out from his chest as you went to rest your hands around his waist, enveloping him in a comfortable type hug.
“Will you be my girlfriend?”, Rami asked as he scooted his face closer to yours in anticipation.
“Duh”, you said with a beaming smile on your lips that was quickly interrupted by a kiss that nearly had you falling out of your stool from the impact.
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Tag: @amcquivey @siriuslovesmarlene @sleep-all-day-and-all-night@kellysimagines @everybodyplaythegame @ramibaby @tyferbebe @xoa-lex @runawayxwithme @chibiisaurus @singyourheartout4-rami @hazeleyedbeth @thatramigirl @katiekitty261 @mydogisthebest @killerqueenofthenight @deacytits @notevenlxvely @saviooor @youthtea @amf71010 @bo-queen-rhap @rami-malek-trash @thedoctorsblogger @emilygracebatchelor @blackharry @destiel-stucky4ever-loki-queen @sunflower-borhap-boys
#rami malek#rami malek x reader#rami malek hc#rami malek fic#rami malek one shot#rami malek imgaine#mr robot#elliot alderson#the pacific#merriell shelton#snafu shelton#ahkmenrah#borhap#rami malek smut
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To My Heart and Soul
[ 1 | you are here | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | read on AO3 ]
Warnings: major character death, villain/abusive deceit, blood, fighting, panic attacks, creepy imagery
Pairings: logince, hints of moxiety, a tiny smidge of remile and past abusive anxceit
Logan hadn’t slept in a week.
The incident in the graveyard haunted him, chased him day and night, attacked him in his dreams and drove his sleep away. He couldn’t seem to distance himself from it like he distanced himself from everything else, try as he might. There were no scars, no marks, nothing to prove it had actually happened but a few nightmares and a shard of hope that refused to dislodge from his lungs. It was maddening.
Had it actually happened? At first, he’d searched with fervor for the stranger, for the shadows, for something to prove that the incident had been real. He found nothing. Of course he found nothing — the incident made no logical sense. He was delusional, that was all. But still, the damned hope persisted. Could Roman be alive? The thought was far too good to be true, and not logical in the slightest. He had been dead for eleven months. Logan had seen the body. There was no possible way he was still alive.
And there was no way he’d been attacked by shadow creatures. There was no way his broken bones could be healed in mere seconds. There was no way any of that could have happened.
There was no way Roman was coming back.
He had been grieving. The most logical explanation was that he had fallen asleep and dreamed it all. His grief constructed a nonsensical world in which Roman had survived, and in his turmoil, he clung to it, despite how unrealistic he knew it was.
But a logical explanation didn’t keep the nightmares away. It didn’t keep him from flinching at shadows, or searching every face for purple eyes and long, dark bangs. Why couldn’t he stop dwelling? Reason said Roman was dead and gone forever. Logic said he had only been dreaming. So why did his heart continue to insist he was still there?
He couldn’t stop.
He needed to stop.
It took a week of illogical behavior for him to finally make an appointment with his therapist. The post-Roman world he’d finally begun learning how to live in was falling apart, and he needed to rebuild his walls before everything crumbled around him. Dr. Picani had been with him since Roman had died, he’d know exactly what to do. And even if he didn’t… well, Logan needed to talk about this with someone.
He paced back and forth in front of Picani’s chair while he waited for the doctor to arrive, his hands clasped firmly behind his back. He’d been like this the whole week, overly tense and overly anxious, like a spring wound far too tight. He feared the moment he’d burst. The soft, warm colors of Picani’s office worked to soothe the awful thoughts cutting through his mind, but did nothing to lessen the hope fear he’d felt since the encounter.
He stiffened as the door creaked open behind him. “Logan! Do you how —” Picani hesitated, taking in Logan’s disheveled, tense figure. “Ah. Not doin’ too good, huh? Take a seat, Lo.”
“I-I am —” His voice cracked and he forcefully cleared his throat, adjusting his tie with a stiff jerk. Talking about his emotions was uncomfortable enough, he refused to break down. “I am concerned that my grief is… resurfacing.”
Picani’s eyebrows furrowed. “How so?” he asked, pulling out his notepad and clicking open his pen. He never moved his gaze from Logan, his amber eyes shining with concern. The words Logan had planned died on his tongue.
He’d pictured this moment countless times since he’d schedule the appointment, planning every possible way to explain his nightmare without sounding like a complete and utter loon. But now, faced with Picani’s searchlight eyes — too much like a friend’s, too concerned, not uncaring enough to explain his problems without expecting pity in return — he found his voice had vanished.
Picani let out a soft sigh. “I won’t force it out of you if you’re not comfy sharing. However, I will say this: you’re allowed to still be grieving. It hasn’t even been a year, Logan. You gotta give yourself time to heal.” He bit his lip, and Logan could feel the incoming cartoon reference. “You know how Pearl couldn’t move on and heal until she could talk about Rose? You can’t expect yourself to be able to heal until you’ve talked about Roman.”
Logan winced. Eleven months, and even the mention of his name sent a pang through his chest. “I am aware of that. I just — I believed myself to be past the denial stage of grief. It is… frustrating.”
“Well, there is no one linear way to grieve. You can think you’re ahead for a while, and then something happens and you’re pushed right back to where you began. It can be frustrating, but you have to remember that grief is more of a cycle than a one-and-done plan.” He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose with the end of his pen. “Did something happen, Logan?”
“I…” Logan sighed, shifting in his seat. “Yes. A-A nightmare, I think. I mean — there is nothing else it could have been. As you know, it was our… our anniversary, last week.”
“Yes,” Picani said, his voice soft.
“I visited the graveyard, to see him. I must have fallen asleep at some point, because…” And he went on, forcing the memory from his mouth. It seemed both more real and more imagined all at once, hanging in the air between them, both a memory and a dream.
“And he told me of some plot to… use me to get to Roman, implying that Roman is still alive. It is all highly nonsensical, of course, but I cannot seem to get it out of my head.”
“Ah…” Picani scribbled some quick notes, biting his lip in thought. “It gave you hope, even if it was unrealistic. It makes sense that you’ve subconsciously latched onto it, even though you know it can’t be real. You do know that, right?”
“Of course I do,” Logan snapped sharply, running a hand through his hair. He bit back a sigh, his anger fading as quickly as it had appeared. “I just… I don’t want to focus on this anymore. I want to move on.”
“I know,” Picani said gently, “but moving on is a process. One that involves letting yourself feel things, no matter how painful they may be. In order to —”
A distant crash cut him off before he could finish his thought. Sharing a look of confusion, Picani and Logan stood, looking to the door. Picani’s receptionist cried out in fright and Picani started forward, eyes wide, mouth open to call out to her — and before he could, a figure kicked down the door.
“What —” In a flash of blinding green light, Picani was thrown against the wall and held there by an unseen force, face frozen in surprise. Logan stumbled backwards, his back hitting the wall as he scrambled to get away from the stranger.
“Sorry, hun. You’re not who I’m after.” The stranger shrugged at Picani, blowing a big bubble-gum bubble and popping it with a sassy flourish. He turned his gaze on Logan, and his eyes, hidden behind a pair of dark sunglasses, seemed to smoulder with satisfaction. “I’m after a certain ratty-ass thot named Anxiety. And a little birdy told me you’ve seen him.”
Logan stammered, spluttering incoherently. A million implications hit him all at once, with roughly the force of several freight trains, and he nearly topped beneath the weight. The stranger before him was holding Picani to the wall with nothing — which implied magic, impossible magic, but magic nonetheless, like the kind the stranger had used the week before — which meant that the stranger had existed, he hadn’t dreamt it, however illogical that was —
Which meant that somewhere, somehow, Roman could still be alive.
“‘Fess up, babe, I don’t have all day.” From the pocket of his long, flowing leather jacket, the stranger produced a curved blade, the dark wooden hilt engraved with softly glowing symbols. Logan stiffened against the wall, his breath freezing in his lungs.
But through that fear rang one clarifying thought. Roman could still be alive, his heart beat with every passing second, a mantra of hope that he didn’t dare block out. He drew himself to his full height, forcing as much confidence into his stance as one could when faced with a knife-carrying wizard.
“If I give you answers, you will have to give me some in return,” he demanded, pushing through even as his voice trembled. The stranger laughed, a high, barking noise.
“Gurl, you are a riot!” he exclaimed, grinning widely. Logan noticed with a jolt of fear that his teeth were pointed, like fangs. “Trying to bargain, how cute! Listen, hun, I’ll show you a bargain. Tell me where that bitch is, and I won’t kill you. And don’t forget who holds the knife in this relationship.”
He twirled the dagger in his hand. Logan threw any plans of negotiating from his mind. “I don’t even know who you’re talking about,” he insisted. “Who is Anxiety?”
The stranger sighed, rolling his dark eyes. “Tall, dark, edgy, wears a patched cloak, reeks with the scent of complete and utter betrayal? This ringing any bells, gurl?”
Oh. The stranger at the graveyard? Logan hesitated, forcing any recognition from his face before the stranger could read it. The person at the graveyard — Anxiety, apparently — had saved his life. This knife-wielding madman had done nothing but magic his therapist to a wall and threaten him at knifepoint.
“I have no idea who that is,” Logan said evenly. The stranger heaved a heavy sigh, throwing his whole body into the action, and then stuck his knife beneath Logan’s chin in one swift movement, the cold blade nearly close enough to draw blood.
“Try. Again.”
“R-Right.” Logan gulped. “Maybe I do remember him.”
The stranger grinned, eyes lighting up. “There we go! Now, where the fuck is he?” He jutted his hip out to one side, popping another bubble-gum bubble as he waited for Logan’s answer.
“I don’t know,” Logan said, as evenly as he could manage with a knife waiting at his throat. “He left in a hurry, and I haven’t seen him since. I didn’t even know his name before now. I am not involved in this situation!”
“Oh, hun, you are.” The stranger sighed, drawing his knife from beneath Logan’s chin. Logan tried not to sag with relief. Tossing it from one hand to the other, the stranger fixed him with a strange expression. “For whatever reason, good ol’ Anxiety decided to pay you a visit. That’s big, babe, he never visits people. That means he’s interested in you.”
“But why?” Logan asked. “Is it — is it because of Roman?”
That got the stranger’s attention. He froze, the knife nearly tumbling from his hands. “Excuse me? You don’t mean Roman Cygnus?”
The name sent memories flooding through his mind that he shoved away on instinct. “Yes. He’s — he was my husband. Anxiety mentioned something —”
“Holy shit.” The stranger stepped back. “You — he left us for you?”
“You knew him?” Logan’s fear vanished in an instant. He stepped forward. “What do you mean he left you? Is he alive? Where is he?”
The stranger held up his hands, eyebrows furrowed. All the sass had drained from his movements, leaving behind only languid confusion. He regarded Logan in a new light — studying him, almost. “Babe, chill, I —”
“I have not been ‘chill’ since he died! If you have any information, I implore you to give it to me. Then I can assist you in finding this Anxiety.” It was a bold-faced falsehood, he knew; he still had no idea where the cloaked stranger had gone, and even less of an idea of how to find him. Still, he’d managed to grab the reins of the confrontation, and a lead on Roman’s death. Truth no longer mattered.
Not when he could see Roman again.
The stranger spluttered, holding up his hands. “Listen, okay, I don’t —”
And the wall behind him burst into pieces.
#to my heart and soul#celeste's portfolio#sanders sides#logan sanders#remy sanders#sleep sanders#dr. picani#emile picani#knife tw#logince
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Top 5 of your hot takes about Those!L? Haha whatever you want really, I just want to hear you talk about him basically
Oooh, let’s see (spoilers under the cut!) (also, I want to apologise in advance for rambling endlessly, lol):
1. Just the thought of L as a legendary totally corrupt gay lawyer is an aesthetic I’m in love with. When we first meet him, he’s described as “a bit of a mess with slicked back black hair”, and combined with L’s peculiar facial features, especially his eyes, you get a great mental picture of him. Also, I’m so glad that Those!Light is obsessed enough with both him and fashion to tell us what he’s wearing in great detail. Picturing L in nice suits is wonderful enough, but Light’s internal rants about his shitty sweaters or jeans are great too. I love how his energy his chaotic and refined at the same time. Also, I remember there was a scene where Light thinks that he has “something of winter”, and it’s just intriguing to read how his thoughts about L get slowly more and more poetic and romantic. Sometimes he romanticises him so much that his admiration turns to jealously. He was the first person to make Light wish he could be someone else for a moment and hnghnng, I love it
2. There were at least three scenes involving L that, well, felt like a knife to the heart:
The first one would right after L faked his death. B trying to convince Light that he’s dead indeed is heartbreaking enough, but this little scene here
I found one of L’s old sweet wrappers in my car ashtray when I pulled over, so I threw it out of the window and then regretted it. It was littering. Then the possibility hit me for the first time that I wouldn’t see him again apart from in grainy photographs or in the background, unfocused, in press footage. I had little to show of his existence or his effect on my life, so it was like he’d disappeared completely, and I was so frustrated that a fucking sweet wrapper suddenly held all these memories and emotions – it was pathetic. I’d thrown it away with no ceremony, only shaking hate.
was so unbelievable painful to read, I had to stop for a moment.
The second one would be when Kira finds L’s picture inside Light’s drawer. Everything is written with such a care and detail, that I had to reread the entire segment a few times, actually. It was equally touching, funny, as it was, of course, heartbreaking. Especially this:
He still can’t understand but stays quiet about it. After a while of looking at the photo in confusion, he starts rummaging around in his pocket for something. I think that maybe it’s for crayons so he’ll draw on the glass and I know that I’ll let him do it and get some absurd satisfaction from the defacement. Maybe I’ll join in and go mad scribbling out L’s face with a furious black crayon, blotting out the only real thing of him that’s left until he is truly gone. But Kira pulls out a toy plane. I’m disappointed. I’m used to it. “Do you think that Eru would like my plane?”
“Yes. I think that he’d love your plane,” I say after a few moments of silent conflicting feelings.
and this:
“Is Eru your friend?“
"Yes.”
“Even if he’s deaded?”
“Yes. He’ll always be my friend.”
…I think this made me a cry a bit, if I remember correctly. (And I don’t cry easily) (Listen, I’m just very sensitive when it comes to L & death because of his actual canon fate)
And the final scene I want to mention isn’t “just” sad - it actually has kind of a happy ending (kind of because when is anything in “Those” truly happy, lmao). It’s when Light goes to L’s apartment with his divorce papers:
Sensing someone in the doorway, I force myself to look up in case I’m in someone’s way. L looks down at me, cast in shadow, but doesn’t say anything. Neither do I. I can’t read him, I don’t know what he’s thinking. I just exhale and feel how exhausted I am, and how relieved I am to see him. I thought you’d left me again, just when I made a clearing for you to take everything I have and make it yours. I’d take your name if you wanted me to. If I could. I’d become your property until the wrecking balls came, and be proud of it.
After a little while, I grasp my hair close to my scalp until it hurts and my eyes scrunch up from pain. For me in another time, this would be a mistake. It wouldn’t have happened. What the fuck went wrong?
L bends to pick up my dropped application for divorce, sees what it is and looks at me like he expects me to explain it. But I don’t have to, do I? I can’t give any more of myself than I already have done. When I don’t say anything, he walks to me and sits against the opposite wall. I’m not sure how much time passes with us sitting like that, but eventually he crawls towards me and kisses me like it’s a thank you. We don’t need words, you and I.
I touch the back of his head as another removal man steps over us.
3. Let’s talk about how fucking funny Those!L is for a moment. The first time I laughed uncontrollably, was when Light locked himself and L in a fucking baby’s changing room at Light’s birthday party:
Then there’s a knock behind him and my eyes flicker away from his to look at the door with someone who’s not welcome on the other side of it.
“Excuse me?” a woman’s voice asks. “Is anyone in there? I need to change my baby.”
L sighs and turns his head slightly to the side. “I’m afraid that you’re stuck with it, madam. You can’t swap it for another one. Kindly piss off.”
I also love his rant about Kitamura, where he just ends Light’s phone conference to force him to listen to him, or his reaction to Matt interrupting their breakfast at an Italian bistro, and especially the scene where Light watches L getting interviewed on TV. It’s too long of a scene to quote here, but as soon as I realised that he integrated the lyrics of “Under Pressure” into his totally inspirational speech, I completely lost it:
“He’s a victim of a consumerist attitude where children are given money instead of love. He was unequipped to deal with life, and after the incident he’s confronted with the terror of knowing what this world is about. It’s watching some good friends screaming: ‘Let me out!’ And how does he cope? He prays that tomorrow he’ll get higher, higher, high. Drugs,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. He looks quite intense even though he’s talking absolute shit again.
(Also: “Are you going to celebrate with the Prime Minister, Lawliet-san? What do you think he’ll wear?” L stops as if this is a very important question and his smile and compulsive blinking fills me with dread. “Hope… hopefully…” he struggles, as though he’s trying to contain himself. Oh my God. Hopefully nothing? I stand up to shout at the TV. “Don’t say it, you bastard, don’t say it!”)
Anyway, the story his full of gems like that and it makes L weirdly likeable, even though he’s such a little shit.
4. Actually, let’s talk about this: I’ve rarely seen a character who’s such a complete and utter asshole in a way that allows you to still enjoy his presence. And I hate it when the narrative tries to force us to like some edgy, lame dude who’s forgiven for all the shit he does because he’s sexy and vaguely funny. But I never got the feeling that we were supposed to excuse anything shitty L does, mainly because he’s the love interest of someone just as horrible. You completely get why they are in love with each other, it’s not some kind of a beauty and the beast story, or about one person trying to make their love interest a better person. How Light and L treat each other, is most of the time extremely selfish on both ends. They have some tender moments too, but their are also believable. Those!L is exactly how I like my bastards.
5. All of L’s, eh, mental breakdowns are incredibly well-written. I remember when I first read the chapter where his father died, and getting completely blindsided by how deep this character suddenly was. Honestly, the entire scene with Astbury… made me sick to my stomach. It wasn’t at all what I expected, but that’s another testament to how high-quality “Those” is. I felt like that a bit too after Stephen died. And I was absolutely in awe when I realised that his reaction made even more sense when you find out that L himself killed him. I’m just so thankful that I can read a story for free that’s written with so much love and care for a character who isn’t even the protagonist.
#ask meme#13eyond13#l lawliet#I could about him all day lmao#fics#those who stand for nothing fall for anything
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Part 10 of my reaction/commentary to the Phantoms & Mirages fanfic series by @renegadewangs
(Chasing Phantoms): Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3
(Haunted Specters): Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6
(Vanquishing Mirages): Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9
So moving forward, as I continued to read on, there was a backdrop of salt, apathy & hurt overshadowing everything as established in the previous post. But I was still reading on because “might as well see what happens I guess”. Starting Vanquishing Mirages chapter 20, I was also nervous & intrigued. Nervous about how the narrative was going to go about this and what the result was going to be… So I read on kind of with bated breath.
And it just remains in that interesting stage for a little while, the uncertainty stage where I don’t really know where it’s gonna go, for those first few paragraphs, as I’m waiting and reading on to see how it turns out… and then it takes a downturn when the negative emotions just start POURING in tsunami style and everything just starts crashing down horribly. I go quickly from nervous/intrigued to kind of horrified as it strikes me just. How. Traumatic and overwhelming the entire experience would be for someone who has never really had to deal with emotions of much severity their entire life. I’m just oh no… oh no…….. oh nooooo….. I didn’t foresee this at all, so distracted by so many things up until this point, and yet it makes perfect sense. But it was a real punch huh. This was awful, what a disaster. This was not good… Which is basically what Simon says:
What a mess. What a complete, total and utter mess. […] Perhaps this was punishment for playing god. Perhaps they’d flown too close to the sun. Perhaps they were Frankenstein, responsible for giving birth to a failed creation.
Me:
[hides away in a corner because I think we broke him lads]
Vanquishing Mirages, Chapter 21
The Phantom blinked, shedding a few more tears as he did so. Perhaps he hadn’t quite processed Simon’s words. Perhaps he hadn’t quite processed the situation in general. He swallowed and sniffed, then tilted his head backwards.
Am I meant to be picturing this in anything less than stunningly beautiful and fluid animation? Because I am not picturing this in anything less than gorgeously rendered animation.
Whatever it was that’d held Bobby back from touching the Phantom before, it was gone now. He placed a hand atop the Phantom’s clenched fist, hoping it might soothe him. “Whoah, it’s okay. It’s fine.”
“It’s not fine! How dare you claim that it’s fine?! YOU did this to me!”
AAAAAAND WE’RE BACK LADIESANDGENTLEMAN HELLO THERE NARRATIVE FRAMING OF HIM AS A CHILD: ACTIVATE
HELLO! this is exciting and new!
“Calm yourself.”
“I can’t! I CAN’T!”
He really wouldn’t know how to or be able to!
AND THEN AT THIS POINT IT JUST HIT ME
THIS MAKES PERFECT SENSE
HE ACTUALLY WOULD HAVE THE EMOTIONAL MATURITY OF A CHILD BECAUSE HE’S NEVER HAD THE OPPORTUNITY TO MATURE EMOTIONALLY, DUH, CAUSE HE LACKED EMOTIONS SO MUCH, THIS IS BRAND NEW TO HIM H
Narrative framing of him as a child during Haunted Specters REALLY paying off even more right now! We’ve already reaped so much from those seeds. But now! Oh boy!
“We would not honor such a request even if it were within our capabilities. Congratulations, Phantom. You are now free to tussle with emotions just like every other human.”
MY FEELINGS/REACTION TOWARDS THIS WHOLE SITUATION CHANGED SO FAST IT WAS LIKE:
“Oh noooo… this is so awful and terrible for him this is too much I can’t handle th… W-wait. Phphhw. Heh. Hah. HahahaHAHAHA MUAHAHA YEEEES ONE OF US ONE OF US DEEEEEEEAL WITH IT HAHAHA SUCKERRRRRRRR!”
The Phantom’s wide eyes followed Fulbright out the room. Apparently, his departure served to rile the man up even further. “Get back here! Bobby Fulbright! You get back here and end my suffering RIGHT NOW!”
This is just so good this is just so good hohoooh!
The Phantom sniffed and huffed. Flinched and scrunched his eyes shut, his breathing turning to more helpless sobs. Tears continued to run down the side of his face, disappearing into locks of hair just above his ears.
Hey yeah just saying it again. This is nothing but pure unadulterated animation mode for me. With REALLY GOOD animation. A really gorgeous 2D anime style.
Simon hesitated for a moment, then placed a careful hand atop the Phantom’s closed eyes. They felt soggy and unpleasant to touch.
“Focus on the sound of my voice and nothing else. Focus on my voice and breathe.”
IT’S WEIRD CAUSE LIKE. I HAD VERY FRESH PHANTOMQUILL WOUNDS AT THIS POINT OF READING BUT. Right up until The Kiss prior to the surgery I had been very firmly in the parental-child dynamic mindset camp and thoroughly enjoying myself. It was the kiss and stuff that I found jarring at first BECAUSE of that before getting up and moving over to phantomquill mode, only for it to turn out to be fake phantomquill. You’d think it might actually be hard for me to go back to “Oh the phantom is a child and Bobby and Simon are his parents” after the phantomquill fiasco but in terms of mindset, it really wasn’t difficult because I’d only been in Phantomquill mode comparatively VERY briefly before it got destroyed. I was already thoroughly versed in the ways of the parent-child dynamic heh and had spent waaaay longer enjoying that lens. Being so used to it, it was easy enough to switch back over to it.
Do NOT get me wrong, I was still VERY upset over it, yet somehow I could still deeply enjoy the familial dynamic between Simon and the phantom in this moment.
So I basically was still grumbling angrily about phantomquill under my breath while somehow simultaneously excitedly going “OMG SUPPORTIVE DAD SIMON!!!”
Me: yeah. Yeah. You’re really just Piling On that family dynamic after that huge mess with the kiss and the baiting??? Just showing me blatantly to my face how wrong I was to ever read romance into anything? You have the gall to?
Also me: …I still love the parent-child dynamics from this series so FIIINE I do appreciate this scene. I appreciate it a lot, actually. HMPH
Talk about being of a conflicted mind. But there’ll be more mention of that to come.
…Oh, and yeah, I have still been referring to him as the phantom, haven’t I? Well that’s simple: it’s what the narrative is still calling him, so I continue to call him by that title until it is dropped by the narrative itself
Besiiides, for all intents and purposes, during this small gap of time until it changes, he is NOT quite Lex yet, because he has not yet accepted the name and nor has the narrative itself.
So we get this awesome little window which is just, he’s still “the phantom” if that’s the only title we have before “Lex” is accepted and taken on. Pure, unfiltered “Phantom” + Emotion and it’s sooo special. Which… yes… Phantom + Emotions = becomes Lex but… argh, it gets confusing very quickly for me. :P
The question seemed to startle the Phantom for some reason. … No, not the Phantom. It was Lex, now. That notion still felt foreign. Perhaps Alexander would be more suitable. More formal. Less personal.
I WAS SOOO THANKFUL FOR THIS ON FIRST READTHROUGH. I was thankful for how jarring Simon was finding it too (because in that respect he certainly wasn’t alone lol – I wasn’t alone). I was thankful that the narrative hadn’t immediately switched over to saying “Lex” after he woke up from surgery. Oh, and I’d even been thankful waaay back when his name being Alexander Luster Jr was first revealed that the narrative switch hadn’t been made then either. I mean, it wasn’t for OBVIOUS reasons but like… Technically that’s his name. So the narrative could have tried making an attempt at it and I was just glad he was still always “the Phantom” even when we knew what his name was when he was born. Cause he sure as hell didn’t accept the name back then.
But I was SUPER thankful for Simon deciding to call him “Alexander” too. It was kind of a real godsend BECAUSE LIKE. The name “Lex” was so heavily entrenched and still attached in my mind to that super mean bald dude that got killed off. It was a name that therefore felt “ugly” that had been attached to a man with an “ugly” personality. And whoever this man was that woke up from the surgery, it sure as HELL didn’t feel like his name. I was kinda like “buddy. If you want me to start calling this character “Lex” you’ve got another thing coming.” So having “Alexander” instead was a relief that helped A LOT at the time lol. It was sooo much easier to switch to. And Simon going for the more formal variant is such a Simon thing to do anyway. XD
Also???? Alexander… Alexander Luster… felt like such a pretty name actually???? BUT I MEAN. I am the first to admit that I am probably extremely biased on that front. And that I’d probably just. End up thinking just about any name applied to him was “pretty”. LOL.
But yeaaahhh although I kinda had a hard time with the “Lex” business at first, after a little bit of time it became easy to accept, as it usually goes with these things. Now I’ve got 0 problems with it. Lex is Lex!
“That makes you nothing more than an ungrateful child,” Simon grumbled, finally stepping away from the window to take his own seat.
Every time the narrative makes a DIRECT reference or draws a DIRECT parallel to him being a child it feels like it adds another 3 years to my lifespan.
“Ahahahah! I-I c-can’t! Hahahahah! Ahahahahah! Irony!~”
…
MEOWZY. YOU. YOU. DID THIS. YOU MADE THE CONSCIOUS DECISION TO PUT A TILDE THERE. H.
I.
TH
You did that. You did that on purpose. What did you doooooo. What’s HAPPENING
I can’t… I… just needed to point this out and take you to task over it. GOSH
The i-intent… the intent of this in the narrative
As if to say,
Look… Look at how… endearing
As if to say,
“Yes, you not only can, but SHOULD find this endearing”…………
Ohooooh it’s too much IT’S.
It’s death by tilde is what it is. You didn’t. Need to. You could have just left the words and such as it was. But you threw it in, intentionally showing off how we’re supposed to take this just in case there’s any mistake.
You’re under arrest.
Vanquishing Mirages, Chapter 22: Epilogue
Still, as he raised the headphones to his ear, he heard enough. It was indeed playing music- and what horrid music it was.
“-When skies are grey. You’ll never know dear, how much I love you. Please don’t take my sunshine away.”
“Where the devil did you get this?” he demanded, virtually throwing it into Alexander’s lap.
BRO THIS IS SO UNREAL.
The sheer image of the (former) phantom listening to music was so wild and then it jUST
Alexander’s fingers began to play with the headphones, twirling them around in his hands as he spoke. “You know, it’s funny. I’ve listened to music before, but it’s like I’ve never really heard it. …Does that make sense?”
OH MY GOOOOOSH. THIS REALISATION HIT ME LIKE A TRUCK. THIS HAD NOT OCCURRED TO ME… AT ALL! BUT IT’S SO…! :D HE CAN LISTEN TO AND ENJOY MUSIC NOW. Get immersed in it. That was the most fantastic realisation to me. No, you don’t understaaaand, you see, as a child, getting immersed in listening to music was so central to me that as a kid I’d come up with a bunch of story ideas involving things like other planets/alien creatures that would revolve their entire society around music, or alien creatures that have no concept of music and get introduced to it and subsequently immersed in it for the first time. This just hit so close to hoooome, oh my goodness, I hadn’t remembered or thought about those memories/story ideas that kid me had for maybe a good ten years, and this fic suddenly reminded me with the headphones business. It’s really not related to the fic to mention but I’d looong forgotten about all those scenarios I’d thought about and it was so cool to be reminded. :’D
BUT ANYWAY BACK TO THE FIC-
Me like three chapters ago: WAAAAH, NOTHING THIS SERIES COULD EVER DO COULD EVER MAKE ME HAPPY AGAIN!
Me reading this chapter not too long afterwards: HMMM OKAY I AM KIND OF VERY HAPPY RIGHT NOW.
Oh and it just occurred to me: my guess is the person who “overslept her own execution” was Cammy Meele!
And now, I’m gonna start talking about Lifting Spirits! But at least just for this post, I’m gonna change things up a little and not segment my comments chapter-wise or comment on little things, but rather talk about stuff pertaining to the earlier parts of the fic as a whole. This is necessary because my thoughts were an unbelievable mess and were so terribly bunched together – that is, thanks to reading through it relatively fast, I guess everything got kind of mixed together, so individual reactions to individual parts of it are a little less well-“defined” than was the case with the prior fics at the point of reading.
...I don't know if I could ever do Lifting Spirits justice. I CERTAINLY don't do it justice in this post. Believe me, I want nothing more than to just sit down and gush endlessly about it because that's what it warrants, but for the time being this post seems to be too busy trying to outline just how much my own disposition threatened to botch and ruin it for myself. XD
But it will get better in future review posts, I promise!
Yeah, my thoughts were a contradictory, convoluted, conflicting mess. There was SO much going on at once for me with regards to how I was responding to the text on first readthrough. It’s hard to know even where to begin. So let’s try and tackle some things in Lifting Spirits:
1 - The Transition from The Phantom to Lex
…It does such a number on my brain on multiple levels. XD. IT MESSES WITH ME SO MUCH, it’s a straightforward concept enough in theory but my brain overloads and threatens to shut down when I try to wrap my head around it. XD
I love the phantom, so my instinctive bias at first was to try and cling to the label of “the phantom” as long as I could until it’s finally surrendered.
So, I’ve said already that I was kinda nervous about how this transition was gonna be pulled off. There’s always SORT OF a risk involved when going ahead and giving the phantom an identity and making them no longer the phantom – it kind of wanders straight into the Original Character zone. This New Character who used to be the phantom, in such cases, does get a bit of a complimentary “boost” of my investment in them by virtue of having been the phantom, but beyond that, the new character in the phantom’s place must learn to pull their own weight in the story. They cannot purely rely on having been the phantom – they must develop on their own and give the audience due reason to be invested in the new character. And/or, they must still have some ties connecting them back to having been the phantom too, even with their new characterisation and personality.
So yeah, I had literally no reason to be even remotely nervous. Lex is fantastic. And can very VERY easily stand up in the narrative on his own accord. Not only that, but it’s just… genius… the extremity of his emotions is, ironically, the very thing that connects him back to having been the emotionless phantom…! Because it drives home repeatedly that he really has had NO experience with this level of feeling due to his past. It’s a total pendulum swing to the other end of the spectrum and I love it SO damn much.
Regardless of whether he’s Lex or the phantom, he’s still my favourite character.
1.1 – The phantom as Lex/the phantom becoming Lex
Man, this fic.
I swear to god.
I keep trying to type out my thoughts and it’s so hard to be coherent about it.
Lex is… “the (former) phantom”. So I’ll use this phrasing to really drive the point home. Because such a huge amount of what happens, of what’s going on… derives its impact from this very important fact. From the unbelievable contrast. The seeming absurdity of EVERYTHING given who he was.
The former phantom laughs at stupid jokes, gets given a stash of sweets and a Jokes & Riddles book thanks to Bobby, gets goofily absorbed in a phone game………… The list just goes on.
You are doing this. You are making me read all this stuff involving the former phantom with my own two eyes, I… I…… This flippin’ portrayal. Almost feels like it should be illegal xDDDD
1.1a - YOU ARE WHAT IS KNOWN AS AN ENABLER
I have been… a fan of the character known as the phantom for many years now… I started playing through the Ace Attorney games in December 2014, and played Dual Destinies in the first half of 2015. I’ve had years to jokingly talk about the phantom ironically in an “awwww just look at them, awwww how innocent/”cute”” way, obviously knowing damn well they’re not.
And I basically went into Chasing Phantoms with, on some level, an attitude of “haha you can TRY to make me hate the phantom, I know you will, but I won’t let you”
Big mistake, to head into this series stubbornly guarding a totally opposite area of phantom perception compared to what I SHOULD have been guarding against.
And then you just
Came along and took the character
And did this.
It was fine at first in like, Haunted Specters and then Vanquishing Mirages. It was a big joke that everyone was in on. It was a joke and it was funny and I was laughing along with it. Albeit. An evolving joke.
And then Lifting Spirits just
It jUST
All of a sudden I had to be like wait a minute. I was just like whoa, whoa. Hold up. You can’t – WAIT a minute. No WAIT
I walked into this trap with no defences prepared. I’d walked into this series going “I’d like to see you try and make me truly hate this man, but it won’t work, I’ll make sure it doesn’t work out of spite” and now all of a sudden this was all happening at once and I had to suddenly try and backpedal dramatically out of the trap and be like wait wait wait no this is, this is, he was?? A bad guy was he not? Wait what are we-
The scales were tipping too far for my liking – too far in a direction I was ALREADY biased and predisposed towards and I wanted to stop it but what defence did I haaave
It’s like the narrative was poking me and going “Hey. So. Your favourite character. He’s pretty great, right? Right?” and I’d shake my head and try my best to go, “No… No! He isn’t – this isn’t right! What! There has to be some kind of mistake! This is a thirty-seven year old man who has killed people WHAT IS GOING ON”
And this is also, at the same time, set against a backdrop of me still stubbornly trying to cling to a mindset of not wanting this man to be able to cheat death or the finality of execution.
So here’s the first of many contradictory feelings I was having at once:
“This man must be punished and therefore I can’t abide by such a lighthearted portrayal” vs “I love this man so much and every single moment of this lighthearted portrayal is GOLD and I love it sooo much”
2- The Phantom VS Lex
The portrayal of my favourite character was making me rather pleased, but it felt way too good to be true on three different fronts. Firstly, the amusing absurdity in and of itself made it hard to process this was Really Happening, the levels of it feeling “unreal” were so much and I was so stunned and I was sincerely struggling to process it at first. Secondly, it just felt so catered to me (LOL) and “too good to be true” that I felt like. Like. The narrative surely couldn’t be doing something so great. A similar kind of inability to believe this was “really happening” which had cropped up during Haunted Specters. And this was heavily fuelled by, THREE… My pesky little reactions to our old friend, Fake Phantomquill.
The hurt that I was feeling over the phantomquill unfortunately seeped into and tainted my perception of other parts of the story and caused me to get irrationally defensive in many respects at the time. See, as I’ve implied, part of what was so very appealing to me about Legit one-sided phantomquill coming to fruition just before the surgery is that it felt like the final step in taking the phantom further down from his pedestal and that much closer to “joining the ranks of humanity” just in time for surgery that would have “the phantom” cease to be altogether and allow him to make the full transformation. It wasn’t so much about phantomquill itself as it was about the notion of the phantom being attracted to someone and causing such a big, stupid mess as a result, of being a fundamentally flawed human being but flawed in a vulnerable-
who claimed to be made of nothing but pure logic only to, in his final moments as the phantom act in the most illogical-
It’s silly, I know. First of all, if anything, it can be kind of arophobic, depending on how it’s done, to use “attraction to another person” as a proof or demonstration of a character’s core humanity. It’s just… That’s what I’d tricked myself into thinking the set-up was for, I guess. So when the set-up got so thoroughly negated and didn’t come to fruition, it felt like it had intentionally done the opposite with a bait and switch, and that instead of showing that even the phantom can fall from his pedestal in his final moments before “the phantom” ceases to be, it then seemed the goal was to demonstrate with a great sense of finality that actually, he is despicable and will never be anything but despicable and that we never should have expected anything more up until the very end.
Except… it was silly of me to feel like this first of all seeing as the phantom had already demonstrated during the narrative plenty that he very much does have the capacity to care about other people in his own very odd way. He DID go through character development. Just because none of the feelings he demonstrated were based on attraction doesn’t diminish what he did demonstrate. The Fake Phantomquill Kiss in and of itself is proof of caring because he was ultimately trying to protect Bobby.
But at the time it was hard for me to see that through my hurt. It’s an irrational perspective to take but I wasn’t being rational because of that hurt, and I was distrusting as a result. So, strangely enough, the phantom “dying” as the “filthy criminal he is” after the little show he put on, and then becoming Lex and waking up from the surgery with all these emotions kinda felt to me almost like it was throwing “the phantom” and all the progress as a character he’d made under the bus – of all the potential he’d shown prior to surgical interference.
There was just so much emphasis in the narrative on separating “the phantom” from “Lex” which was fair enough, but it felt to my irrational wounded self like “the phantom” was suddenly being characterised as “Pure Evil” in order to further the ends to which Lex could then be set up as “good”, when we’d previously spent around 2 fics delving into how, while the phantom is very much a villain and none of his crimes can be negated, there is more to him, and he’s, at the very least, not Evil 24/7. Almost like “the phantom” and “Lex” were being pitted against each other which I realise is stupid because c’mon, how can Lex as a character throw the phantom under the bus when Lex was the phantom? When he is merely another huge step – leap – in the character’s evolution? The transformation into Lex can’t negate any of the character development HE made prior to that point, prior to the surgery.
Another important thing to note, which I am extremely grateful to the narrative for, is that Bobby cared about the phantom not only before the surgery, but before the bone sliver was even discovered in the first place. And Simon had also been slipping back then, although he was not nearly as far-gone as Bobby was. But such a thing really helps acknowledge the phantom as a character… and does help reiterate that he wasn’t completely worthless and/or “not worthy of anything” prior to becoming Lex.
I did come to realise that I was, in fact, just needlessly worrying over pure semantics and that there was no point in doing such a thing. Regardless of how one might construe it, this man, Lex, was the same person in the sense that he has all the same memories. There is still a continuity of existence. The "death" of the phantom was only the death of the label itself, the mindset, but the man who had carried the title had still lived on. It allowed, helped that man to shed the worst of what had been part of him before and opened up so much for him.
It's just, the notion of a character actively striving to be good and overcoming themselves vs a sudden fix that gets externally applied, and it felt like any previous striving, however miniscule, threatened to be rendered obsolete by it.
But this was a misplaced notion of mine if there ever was one because not only does it not override previous character development, but the previous character development was necessary for not only making the surgery and its outcome possible, but also a crucial part of the character's arc that can't be overlooked narratively speaking. It is not Lex that characters like Bobby and Athena abruptly start believing in. They'd already believed in him before he was Lex, and they are who campaign for the surgery in the first place. And it is the phantom himself to give the final push and the go-ahead to make it happen through his consent, a vital component to it being made possible. It wasn't erasure, it was never about erasure. It was about continuity and expanding and developing on what was already there. (And I know as well as anyone that the extent of the outcome, and this progress wouldn't have been possible without some form of external interference. It was necessary.)
Whenever I did manage to reconcile it, it was just about the best thing in the world haha.
So yeah, most of this was basically me outlining my distortion of the text and then debunking myself…
I swear my opinions/thoughts/feelings had just about splintered in a million different directions mostly thanks to the shadow cast by my stupid phantomquill pain. XD. My mindset almost threatened to regress to harbouring that foolish unfounded sense that the author didn’t truly care about “the phantom”, and only cared about the person who woke up after that surgery instead. Which is nonsense because Haunted Specters & Vanquishing Mirages clearly indicate otherwise. Why bother spending two entire fics focusing on the phantom so much if the author didn’t care about the phantom? If they wanted to just do away with the phantom and replace him with someone new that they did care about, there were way shorter ways to go about it. I mean, I knew that it was the dumbest concern and that it was incorrect to even consider at this point, but that didn’t stop me from foolishly wasting time on it. It was so hard to believe & trust the story was so attuned to me after being “betrayed” that I semi-adopted/saw the more “hurtful” interpretation as the more “realistic” one.
But reading Lifting Spirits over again so far only reiterates what I realise was the case back then: I only had myself to blame, I was the one vastly exaggerating the perceived distinctions that were being made between Lex and the phantom in the text not only because of my own latent concerns but because of how personally mindboggling I was finding it.
And all the while, I’m SIMULTANEOUSLY borderline scolding the text for how seemingly soft it’s being on the (former) phantom and thinking that the author’s phantom bias is showing. Talk about doublethink!
I had been thinking this entire series that I was perfectly safe to “gush” over this man, because at least the author knew what was what, at least the author still had her senses about her and wouldn’t let it go too astray or let it get out of hand. IF THE AUTHOR IS TREATING HIM LIKE THIS AND I’M TREATING HIM LIKE THIS… THEN WHO’S DRIVING THE PLANE?!
And keep in mind too that I read through Lifting Spirits… Rather quickly. So I’ve got all of these tangled thoughts I’m trying to process at once meanwhile I’m just breezing through the chapters, not really giving myself any real chance to sort through my thoughts and untangle the messes that had formed.
I was somehow managing to feel overwhelmingly thrilled and yet hurt by the narrative at the same time. AAAAALLL the contradictory thoughts and feelings. Contrarian mode was on, it seemed, as I tried to juggle so many opinionated stances and arguments at once that cancelled each other out:
“The phantom was a human being too, with his own issues and he ALSO had (limited) feelings DON’T IGNORE THIS” vs “how dare you portray someone who used to be the phantom, a remorseless killer unworthy of a second thought, in such an endearing manner” vs “ohhhh I love this endearing portrayal so much it’s pure SUSTENANCE to me it’s so entertaining & amazing & makes me so happy” vs stubborn attempts to still cling to “make sure that execution goes ahead, this man still isn’t allowed to escape death” with a slight backdrop of that phantomquill salt-fueled apathy & denial. I was somehow now on the defensive and trying to argue that the phantom hadn’t been 100% despicable and yet also trying to retain the stance that the man in his place still needed to die because the phantom had been 100% despicable. YEP. Walking contradiction. Absolutely wild.
Oh also I just loved Lex in his own right too on top of all this, not just because he used to be the phantom. But because he’s LEX.
It’s all very confusing, I hope I didn’t confuse you too much. XD
Oh, also:
When it came to me feeling that the phantom – or rather, the person who used to be him – was being portrayed too lightly by the narrative given his history – Chasing Phantoms renders completely obsolete any possible argument about the series “skewering one’s perception of the phantom too far off-base”. It renders completely obsolete any possibility that the author was not “aware” of the true depths of his despicableness when going for this angle.
Chasing Phantoms’ existence, to me, makes Lifting Spirits all the more awesome, and strengthens its power. “The Phantom that Lex used to be was ruthless and terrible and awful and caused so much damage and destruction” is not just an offhand acknowledgement that gets referenced back to – it was portrayed firsthand in the first fic, in the series itself. It’s like it goes out of its way to drive home that undeniable fact that the phantom REALLY sucks, and yet Lifting Spirits exists anyway, even with FULL acknowledgement of that. I love that sooo much. It just straight up embraces it and doesn’t try to hide a damn thing. This was who he used to be. This is who he is now. That’s just how it is.
As already established, Chasing Phantoms felt like another universe when I read Lifting Spirits – way before then, even. It was SO hard for me to remember that, he was in fact, actually portrayed in a negative light. It’s actually really great to me that the series didn’t start with Haunted Specters – it did not seek to make the phantom sympathetic or whatnot from the start. He gets to clown around as the villain he truly is for an entire fic before any transition over to protagonist even begins to take place. The story doesn’t briefly go “yeah so we all know the phantom is bad and all obviously but…” and moves straight on, it spends a LONG time elaborating on HOW bad the phantom is back at the very start before proceeding on to anything else.
By the way, I’m aware it would be stupid to make arguments about “not knowing the full extent of how sucky the phantom is” purely on the basis of it not being demonstrated firsthand if that was the case, because like, everyone already knows, so we don’t need to be shown. But I’m merely pointing out how cool I find it that this series does demonstrate it firsthand anyway, because it just further crushes such potential arguments.
If Chasing Phantoms did not exist it would be almost easy to trick oneself into thinking that the full extent of the phantom’s villainy was not truly being acknowledged by the story, given Lex’s portrayal by the narrative (despite him being a “new person”, the fact remains that he was the phantom.) The Phantom is – was - very much a villain, and we know very clearly that the current portrayal of that man who used to be him doesn’t minimise that.
There was another big thing I wanted to talk about connected to much I’ve discussed in this post, but I’ll have to leave it for the next one! I had to cut sooo much from this I’m sorry, I actually did have a bunch of small comments from the beginning of Lifting Spirits. Well, until the next post, which will also get to the middle of the fic too. ^_^
#long post#if this is all over the place it was because my thoughts were all over the place sdjsdnkjsdkj#ghhhh
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