#because she HAS to bring her back to life she HAS to digest her she HAS to consume her its the only way
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just made myself a little sick thinking about cassie and clotho as direct opposite of cain and abel
#obviously cassie killing her sister is like. a constructed myth#clotho gets herself into a horrible situation and dies by her own dismerit#cassie just comes too late and sees the aftermath#but im thinking of. the demon she summons being the parallel to god#cassie as the 'i am my sister's keeper and i must get her back'#cassie using a rock to smash her sister open so she can eat her#because she HAS to bring her back to life she HAS to digest her she HAS to consume her its the only way#looks into the camera and starts shaking
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Broken Glass
Cairo x SoccerPlayer!Fem!Reader
Summary: Your troublemaker girlfriend breaks up with you
Warnings: Break up, mentions of lung cancer
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Cairo was always difficult to deal with. Always exploding over the small things you say that come out as a insult to her, or the bold assumptions she makes. Cairo was a girl who never cared about anyone other than herself, but in this case she cared for you..
Today was her girlfriends ball party, you are Cairo’s girlfriend. You held this party because of your congrats on winning your soccer game. And ball dances happened to be your favorite, so you held one.
She was currently dancing with you slowly, it was a slow dance..her hands around your neck as you kept your hand placement on her waist. She was wearing a white gown, that hugged her hips nice..
She seemed quiet and relaxed as she danced with you, but really her mind was running a hundred miles per hour. Her hands left your neck, pulling away before speaking.
“Can we step outside? I need to talk to you.” She said, looking pretty tense now.
The big smile you had on your face was now gone, but nodded to follow her anyways. She takes your hand and brings you out the garden terrace. She turns to you, letting go of your hand and leaning against the railing. Her brown hair shinning in the moonlight.
“Can I ask you something?” Cairo was looking at you, tears brimming in the corners of her eyes. “Yeah, always.” You replied with, leaning against the rail with her.
She glanced down at her heels for a moment, gathering herself for what she was going to say. She seemed really nervous, she isn’t good about expressing her feelings, so she gets straight to the point.
“…do you really love me? Do I mean..anything to you?” Cairo asks, her voice broke a bit.
You furred your eyebrows, caught off guard by the question a bit..but it didn’t really surprise you. She seemed to always ask questions like these when she felt insecure, which you always replied with the same certain response. “Of course I do. Cairo you’re my girlfriend, I love you.”
“You do?” Her voice trembles. She seems confused, which confused you. It’s like she’s digesting the response. Her own love life has been so complex.. she still doesn’t even fully understand herself, but she wants to believe what you’ve said.
“Are you sure?” You notice the tears in her eyes swell up more, she’s holding back tears. “Yes of course I am,” you respond. “What’s going on my love?”
“I-it’s..” Cairo’s having a hard time finding the words, as she’s on the verge of a breakdown. She glanced around the terrace, looking at the small water fountain in the middle..seeing the moonlights reflection in it.
She held a hand up to her mouth to cover up sobs. “My…my mom…” she squeaks out. You tilt your head a bit, “what about your mom?”
“She has lung cancer..” your eyes widen at her words. She breaks, tears streaming down her face. She hadn’t told anyone..or muster up the courage to say something about the situation..maybe only her close friends…but how come not you?
“A-and I’ve been so distracted because of it. I haven’t been able to focus on anything, my grades are going down..” she couldn’t finish her sentence..her breathing becoming harsh..sobbing a lot.
“Hey..hey shhh..” you wrapped your arms around her small form, trying to comprehend the situation. “I’m so sorry baby..”
Cairo leans her head on your chest, letting out some more sobs. She’s been a loss of support..but of your presence there she’s slightly relieved. Less weight on her shoulders when you embrace her.
“I-i didn’t know how to tell you..” she whispers through a few more cries. “Hey..shhh, it’s okay.” You rub her back.
Cairo takes a deep breath as her sobs subside a bit. She pulls away from your embrace, which only increases your worries. She clears her throat, “thank you.”
You nod, happy to calm her down a bit..but not convinced enough she’s done. “Always. I’m glad you told me though..how is she right now?” You weren’t close with Cairo’s parents, I mean they were pretty much gone all the time since they’re lawyers ..but hearing that her mother had lung cancer, was shocking.
You rubbed her cheek and she smiles a bit at the gesture, relieved to tell you about the situation, albeit with a lot of difficulty. “She isn’t doing very well..” she took a deep breath, finding it hard to keep her tears at bay.
“I’m sorry, you don’t have to continue..it’s okay..”
She had something else to say, and you knew it. But you aren’t prepared. “But, there’s something else.”
There it is
“What is it love?” Now were you worried.
Now she doesn’t want to say it, but she’s already put herself in the situation. She knows if she says never-mind you’ll keep asking her. But despite her shyness, she speaks again.
“I..I don’t think I can be your girlfriend anymore..”
Your eyes widen, feeling your heart drop in your stomach. “Wh-what?”
Cairo nods her head slowly as she looks down. She seems scared to have said those words, apprehensive to your next response. Her voice trembles as she speaks again, “I..I don’t think I’m cut out for a relationship right now..”
Those words hit you like a bus. You can’t believe the situation right now, even at Cairo’s confession. You both have been together for five months now, things were going fine…you loved each other. But now she wanted to end things now? At your celebration? You get the fact her mom has lung cancer, but it isn’t like she’s dead….yet.
“It’s- its because of your mom..? Isn’t it.” You finally spoke up. “Yeah..” she confirms, her throat is dry. More tears flow, sobs continuing. She turns away from you, afraid to look at you.
“O-okay..” you step back, voice trembling too. As your own tears flood down.
“Please, I don’t want you to think it’s your fault.” She turns around to face you again, she scans your hurt face. She knows she messed up, your posture and facial expressions says it all. She’s aware of your sensitivity, she knows how you blame yourself when she is upset.
“N-no it’s fine..I mean yeah- I get it.” You let out a shaky breath, your own thoughts forming.
Maybe she hates you, she doesn’t love you, you aren’t good enough, it’s all your fault, you messed up
“You do?” She looks up at you in shock. Cairo wasn’t expecting such an easy response, she assumed maybe you’d have questions. But she also didn’t want to push the issue further, honestly, she wanted to agree what she was saying. Because outside of her family issues, she’s having a hard time understanding her feelings for you, and to her this was the only way to deal with the situation. Push you away like you’ve never met before, breaking your fragile heart and her own.
You shrug, “I don’t..know what else to say.” Cairo shakes her head, she didn’t expect you to say much. But she did expect a response of begging for her to not leave you..
“I’m sorry,” “it’s not your fault.” You quickly respond.
More weight lifted off her shoulders, but not enough. “You aren’t..gonna convince me to stay?” She was still shocked, wondering why you wouldn’t beg for her back…beg desperately for mercy.
“No..” boy do you wish you hadn’t responded like that, but you were hurt and shocked still. More than likely stuck like that forever if she doesn’t fix the situation.
Cairo’s eyes widen, lips parted. “R-really? You aren’t even gonna…try?”
“I’ve done this before,” “you have?”
You have indeed. Your last break up happened similar, they said you weren’t good enough..made up an excuse to break up and you tried begging for them back. But they didn’t give you any reason and without word, left you.
“Yes, my first relationship. The break up ended the same way, and I tried begging for them back…but they left without a word.”
She blinks, guilt rising up in her. She should’ve known this had happened to you, and why did she not know? She doesn’t know.
“I-I’m sorry.” “Stop saying sorry…”
Because you aren’t, is what you wanted to end the sentence with.
Cairo frowns. She didn’t even realize she was responding with a ‘sorry’ every time she spoke. She sighs, “I’m just..I feel awful about this, I should’ve handled things better.”
“It’s fine. If you think without me is better…it’s fine.”
It isn’t fine
She’s hurt, hurt you aren’t trying for her back. She’s sighs and shakes her head,
“you’re too …..good for me.” “That’s what everybody says.”
Cairo seems even more surprised at your response. She didn't know that people had told you that, but she feels like it's true and it stings her a little. She clears her throat. "I- really?" she asks in a shaky voice.
You nod. Cairo nods, as she looks down again. The truth is that she thinks it's true, too. She knows she's not ready for a relationship, especially with someone like you. It was better for her to let you go, especially if she thinks you… can do better. She sighs as she feels the guilt of her decision rise up again.
“Well, they aren’t wrong.”
Well ouch.
“Ouch.”
Cairo freezes, as she looks straight back at you, her eyes full of tears. That... yeah, that hurt you. That response didn't help her with her guilt at all. She feels like the ground opens up under her feet at the unexpected words.
“Ouch?” She asks.
You sighed, not wanting to explain why it hurt. “Just go.”
Cairo is taken aback by how harsh you are, and her face quickly turns into a frown. She feels like the wind has been knocked out of her, and her breath catches in her throat.
Just... just go? She can't believe this... after all this time they spent together, this is all it took for her to say that so harshly...Even if she was pushing you away first, she doesn’t feel wanted anymore.
“If you think you’re better without me, then just go.” You didn’t want to push her away, but you were.
“Who said I’m better without you?” “You did! You said you’d be better without being in a relationship..and that we weren’t cut out,”
You cried, defending yourself. She grits her teeth, “and…and you took that as I think I’m better without you?”
“Then what?” You crossed your arms, fed up.
Cairo sighs deeply as she looks away. She doesn't know what to say. She doesn't want to make her think that was what she meant. But she feels angry and hurt by her reaction to her words.
“…I said I think I am not ready to be with someone, I never said that I think I can do better without you...”
You sigh. “Then what do you want?”
She doesn’t think before she says, “maybe I would be better without you!”
You shake your head, crying more than before. “Just go..go.”
Cairo swallows deeply as she sees the harshness in her face. She sighs, as she looks down, finally accepting that there is no point in staying. There was no point in fighting back.
“…right.” she says after a few moments, and takes a deep breath. She turns around, starting to take steps away from you, her chest feeling heavy as she does so.
It started raining after, and you watched her leave the garden terrace. Leave you.
Now, all there was..is broken glass
Your fragile heart, shattered
~~~~~~~~~~~
Oops
Mb
Y’all want a part two?
And I’m working on a continuation of ‘Lonely in her Mansion’ I just suck at smut so bare with me 😭
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'Boys blowin' up my phone...ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ ft. 42Miles
...˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗
ingredients: salt, tears, and a speck of sugar.
tw's: unrequited love-ish?, cussing, reader has pretty priveledge
a/n: girl's girl reader! She's here for her girls n we love that
Throughout your life, you've always kept a reputation as a pretty girl. From a pretty baby to a girl that looked like she came straight out of Pinterest. Your hair was always flawless, in your natural 4c curls or in some pretty box braids with beads. From the moment you opened your eyes and spoke your mind, you had everyone falling at your pretty little heels. Admittedly you found it partially disgusting, watching boys and men treat you like an ancient beauty and shunning other girls to bring you up. You fucking hated it.
After all, the word 'ugly' is just a bullshit concept invented by white men with an opinion. Nobody is ugly, they just aren't confined to the Euro-centric beauty standard. And who fucking needs approval from them? So your contacts stayed full, and you left almost every boy on read or delivered. To say your phone was an atomic bomb was an understatement, you picked up the habit of just...not coming off of DND!
You spent all your time with your girls, spending all your time giving them the love and care that everyone should be giving them. You cheered them on, held them when they cried, kept them in check when necessary, and doted on them just like a loving sister. Beauty meant nothing to you, and you never wanted someone to hate you based on the false 'pretty girl' title you held. You simply didn't care about the boys in B.V.A, because they all lacked common sense. All except Miles.
Now, the reason you liked him was probably stupid. You knew that good and well. You liked him because he stayed out of your face, and was one of the few who didn't talk about or make comments on any of the girls at your school. In fact, he didn't talk at all, that's why you like him so much. You've had a couple conversations with him here and there, with him nodding briefly and giving short little statements in response to yours.
"Aight, I'm gonna go to my dorm" He nodded, waving bye as he put his hoodie back over his head, walking in the direction opposite of you. And fuck, did it crush your heart. It wasn't like he was ignoring, avoiding, or ducking you. You heard through the grapevine that he just isn't into anyone, and isn't looking for a relationship at the moment. Which was fine.
But sometimes you'd wish he'd walk up to you, start a conversation, and ask to hang out. Just the two of you in the school library, walking through the many bookshelves and talking about whatever came to mind. You had three classes together, watching as he always passed you by and sat at the back of the class to doodle in his sketchbook. He never spared you a second glance, keeping his eyes glued to the ceiling or his sketchbook as you pretended to glance at your friends in the back, watching him through your peripheral. It pushed you to tears every time you returned to your dorm, mascara cascading down your face every time you thought of how he behaved as though you were invisible.
It started to hurt. He was all that plagued your mind as you digested how jaw-droppingly gorgeous he was. When the bell rang and signified it was lunch time, you grabbed your things as quickly as possible as you went to place your bag in your locker. You wanted to grab a little croissant sandwich at a nearby coffee shop to clear your head, but unbeknownst to you, it was raining. You flung open the school's dark oak double doors to see a vicious downpour, immediately feeling somber as you sighed to yourself. Well fuck you can't have shit, can you?
"Fuck." You muttered, getting ready to go back to your dorm and skip lunch. You weren't even hungry anymore as you trudged back to your shared space, plunging your face into your pillow as you sighed deeply. You scrolled through your phone, ignoring the 8+ messages you had on Instagram, viewing Miles' story, and being bombarded by Magnolia by Playboi Carti immediately. He was sitting at a cafe table, looking down at his phone while Ganke kicked his feet up on the table, a comic book resting on his face. You did nothing but like the story before powering off your phone and drifting off to sleep.
You accidentally skipped the rest of your classes for the day, but it was fine considering you only had Jewelry, creative writing, and a free. Your roommate/best friend had been chilling at her desk, doing her pre-calc homework as you heard the faintest bit of bass coming from her AirPods. You assumed she couldn't hear you, so you fell back on your bed and posted new selfies to your story. "Lila, what song should I choose?" You asked as soon as you heard the bass die out. "Uhm...Focus by HER. By the way, where you been girl? I had to go to jewelry alone" Lila asked as she looked up to the top of your shared bunk bed. "My bad, I wasn't feelin' too good so I took a nap!" You chirped as you rubbed your eyes.
"Ah, that's aight. Hope you feelin' better. By the way, I found this in the back of 7th period" She muttered, pulling a crumpled-up piece of paper from off of her desk and extending her arm straight up and back so you could grab the sheet. You held the form, immediately locking eyes with a perfect drawing of yourself. You were sitting on the lockers, knees to chest with your lavender-purple beats. "Damn, who drew this? They're good" You gasped, snapping a picture to post later. "No clue. But girl move over I gotta tell you about what happened with me and Kazir" Lila giggled as she powered off her computer, turning on the salt lamp and climbing up to your bunk.
Taglist
@ashsostrange @chessbox @faeriesoiree333 @janaeby @fivestardior @an1bara @bachirasegoist @milesnanana77 @niaurluv
#atsv#across the spiderverse#into the spiderverse#miles morales#miles morales x reader#earth 42 miles x reader#earth 42 miles#e42 miles x black!reader#e42 miles
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Dungeon Meshi and the Paradox of the Winged Lion
I just finished reading Dungeon Meshi, and I really liked it. It took me about 4 days to read it, and I was looking for a good manga, and it really whet my appetite after I saw that there was an anime.
So I’ve been mulling this over since I finished it, as I needed time to digest the narrative, but also, I wanted a little intro to warn about spoilers. Lots and lots and lots of spoilers.
So we eventually learn that a certain character, The Winged Lion, is, in fact, a demon. Now, that’s not necessarily too much of a twist. I didn’t see it coming, but it didn’t completely come out of left field.
But what is really interesting is how holy and sacred The Winged Lion is. If I remember correctly, TWL is first referenced as “the land’s guardian,” by Yaad, prince of the Golden Kingdom.
Now, a lion with wings is a novel idea, even if it isn’t a super innovative one. But most importantly, that’s not the extent of TWL’s design. It’s implied his more natural state is a 4 armed, anthropomorphic, winged lion with 5 eyes and 4 horns. That’s probably not it’s original form, but it does seem to be the form it identifies with. (It’s also super hot)
Image for reference.
Now, I’m not the only person that saw it, right? This is very similar to a ‘biblically accurate angel.’
Quick note on that term, biblically accurate is a bit misleading. The Bible is full of contradictions. So an angel as a human with wings is as valid as a ring covered in eyes with a pair of wings on it. What we consider “biblically accurate,” is more often seen in stuff like Dante’s Pardisio.
Anyways, back to my point. Is TWL a demon? Or is it an angel? (Let’s put translations aside, because I do not speak Japanese nor do I think it matters too much.) But TWL is called a demon by the canaries (aka the dungeon investigation squad, I think) as the kind of the “root” of the dungeon.
TWL was explicitly summoned using “dark magic,” from a “realm of infinite energy.” Now, Marcille specifies that “dark magic” is a social construct. It’s not inherently evil or corrupting, but it is ancient magic that is taboo.
But the main point from that is that TWL is not from hell. If anything, a “realm of infinite energy” is closer to my understanding of God. A being of infinite power that is so vast that it’s own body is a dimension. That would put TWL as a kind of “angel,” a being made from god’s power/body.
Another thing about TWL is that he is inherently Faustian. He brings about the desires of others so that he can eat them. Much like a farmer or beekeeper, he has a dungeon master so that he can grow their desires and eat them (and also so that he can escape and eat all desires everywhere, all at once)
Now, the thing is is that he can’t just grant desires. He has to have a specific desire to grant, but he can only grant them in specific ways.
TWL offers to bring Marcille’s father back, but the the best he can do it make a doppelgänger. He can maybe bring Falin back, but that’s because she died and became part of the dungeon. And I haven’t made it clear before, but he is the dungeon. Thus he can maybe bring Falin back because she is a part of him.
It’s why Marcille tries to use monsters to invade the surface in order to extend her friends life. Because escaping is the only way TWL could possibly extend everyone’s life, because they would be in his stomach.
But back to the point, TWL, technically, is trying to help. He has no choice but to help. In a very Faustian kind of way, engaging with TWL damns you no matter what your desire or motivation is.
And according to Namari, being inside TWL’s stomach is pleasurable. At least at the beginning, when she only got to be there for, at most, like, 30 minutes. I don’t think the exact time is specified, but she did seem to have a good time. It’s possible, that like the citizens of the golden kingdom, it starts out pleasurable, but that doesn’t stop you from desiring new things. I personally doubt that, because they weren’t in the state of bliss that Namath described, but it is possible that the infinite realm isn’t as heavenly as it appears.
Just like The Winged Lion Himself.
Now, I am not a Christian. I only have a kind of pop-culture osmosis of Christianity that comes from living in America. So this next part might be my misinterpretation of the Christian doctrine.
So, I mentioned earlier that an angel as a human with wings is just as valid as a “biblically accurate” angel.
Thus, to make a lion divine, you can give it wings too. Angel lion. Literally, if you look up “angel lion,” that is what you get.
But lions are significantly both in fantasy and Christianity. A lion is often the symbol of a king. King of the jungle. Strong, powerful, and regal. As in Richard the Lionheart. Thus, it makes a lot of sense for it to be associated with Liaos, the future king, devourer of all horrible things. A lion is a predator, after all.
But Christianity is where it gets a bit interesting, because lions are sometimes associated with the lion of Judah. I do think this is more Old Testament stuff, ya know, pre-Jesus, but I do think it gets associated with Jesus. Check me on that if I’m wrong.
Anyways, this creates a kind of messiah symbolism that TWL shares. It is trying to bring out a revelation about how the world works. And quite frankly, he does. The queen of the elves ends up theorizing that TWL was just a manifestation of mana so that it can communicate with the sentient population. Or, it could be following Marcille’s approach, and showing that ancient magic is just another form mana can take.
This messiah metaphor is amplified by the other form TWL takes: a lamb. TWL would offer up it’s own body in the form of a lamb so that humans can eat it. Hell, that’s how it started in the world, offering up it’s body so that something else can eat.
The Winged Lion quite literally sacrifices it’s own body for the survival of others.
Finally, the winged lion is in everything, and everything is a part of the winged lion. This is most apparent in the dungeon, where monsters are literally parts of the winged lion.
It’s king of hard to see, but the winged lion’s face is made out of different monsters in the image.
I think this is significant for two reasons. Christians can see god in anything. As an atheist, this has confused me, but I think I get it. When I look out and see beauty, Christians see the beauty of god. We see the same thing, but just disagree where it comes from.
But TWL is technically in everything. Certainly the main characters, as they’ve been eating monsters, but also in the inanimate objects of the dungeon. The water and the walls and the treasure are all parts of the dungeon itself. And if TWL is, as the queen said, a part of mana itself, is inside every individual. Or it might be more accurate to say, TWL comes from something that is inside everyone.
Either way, this seems very analogous to “the Holy Spirit.”
In conclusion, this is a strange paradox because it isn’t inherently contradictory. Demon’s are not exclusively bad, even in the Bible (for example, In The Book of Job, God seeks out Satan’s advice). But it creates an ambiguity within the winged lion that examines the importance of understanding and living with life’s shortcomings; that we incorporate the world into our bodies and identities; and that sometimes the solution you’re looking for is just a hearty meal.
#dungeon meshi#the winged lion#dungeon meshi spoilers#tons of spoilers#themes#media analysis#character analysis
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The Second
Summary: After going on an unplanned adventure with your best friend and crush, his host, and his host's wife to stop the end of the world, and ending up in an accidental love triangle... square...whatever shape it is, you go back to your hometown to clear your mind. It's a great success for you, helping you reconnect with your childhood friend and even bring him back to continue the fun and show him your life in London. But unbeknownst to you, it seems like it might just cause a rift that is born on one side of the triangle.
Warnings: Love triangle and unrequited feelings. The reader is referred to using she/her. Angst, it's soft but it's there. Third-wheeling. I can't think of anything else but I feel like there's more, if there is just tell me.
Author’s Snip: This is sort of a pilot for a series idea that I have that involves all kinds of love shape situations, rivalry, and dragging friends into all kinds of avatar shenanigans on accident. So if you guys like this, let me know so that I can prep and have it ready for writing and planning.
Notes: This is not proofread before posting, if there are errors blame Grammarly for not catching it. I might fix them later.
I’ll shut up now. Enjoy! And don’t be afraid to request.
Word Count: 2,892
Tag List: @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction
What an adventure you just went on. It all feels so unreal when you even try and think about it. Even as you stare up at the ceiling above your bed you find it hard to really digest fully.
Your good friend Steven turned out to be an alter for a person with DID who's named Marc Spector, whom you had not met, ever, throughout you and Steven's close friendship. In which Marc is the avatar and fist of justice for the Egyptian god Khonshu and was living his life while Steven was not fronting, unbeknownst to Steven, and has been playing a game of keep-away with a cult and their leader for a scarab. And you ended up finding all that out when some members of the cult kidnapped you to intimidate Steven and Marc. By the way, Marc is married and has been married, to a woman named Layla. And so you had to go on this whole adventure with all three of them to stop the end of the world, or something, nearly dying on several occasions, and now it's done apparently. Crisis averted. Also, there is a fucking third one.
You're sure that if you told someone outside of your journal and your new group of friends about this, then you would be thrown into a psychiatric hospital in record time.
And that isn't even mentioning all the complicated feelings you're having right now about the love triangle, that only you are aware of. Because of course, you're in a love triangle that the two other people have no idea exists. It's complicated. It was a little complicated at the start, and now it's so much more complicated because now there's another person involved.
Scratch that, four people involved. This is a love square.
Fuck it, now that Jake's here it might actually be a love pentagon now!
Either way, it all has to do with your feelings towards Steven. You had developed them pretty early on in your friendship with Steven because you just so happened to fall into your type. Dork, sweet, funny, and polite guys were your weakness. You tried to fight them off, not wanting to ruin the friendship that you honestly valued with Steven. But he just had this aura and energy that had your heart like a moth to a flame. Some might call it a slow burn. You'd say that it all was fast. But the warmth went to heat that got painful when you found out about Marc and Layla, and thus Steven and Layla.
You're not mad at Layla. Of course not! Why would you? She was there first, technically. It feels bad to say that. Both because you'd have to try and snuff out the feelings that you have, but also because it sounds wrong. It sounds like Steven's an object to be won instead of a person with his own thoughts and feelings. And you never once saw him like that. He was Steven. Nice, sweet, funny Steven.
You knew you needed to move on, even if it hurt. You know you don't have the guts and nerve to be 'the other person' even if you got the chance to be. It would be disrespectful to Layla, and Layla's a great woman. You settle on going back home, to your hometown, to see family and friends in hopes that it'll distract you, maybe even help you get over it if you're lucky. You call up your family who gladly accept the idea and will set up the room that you'll stay in by the time you get there. With that, you pack your bags, get ready for the trip, and head off.
You don't tell Steven that you're leaving to anywhere at first until you're just about to leave, figuring that if he tries to visit you and you're not there he'll assume someone else has kidnapped you and panic. You just send him a simple "As a heads up I'll be out of town for a while. I need a break.", at some point in your trip heading towards your hometown he texts you back with a single "Okay. Sounds nice.".
As it turns out, going around old loved ones really does help your blues. Matter of fact it seems like everyone from your life here heard the news that you'd be spending a few weeks in town and all got together to see you. Your uncle and dad actually threw a little family cookout so that everyone can come say hi to you.
Everyone had questions for you. What's London like? What have you been doing? How's life going over there?
Of course, you can't tell them about all the recent events and you also don't want to ruin your good mood by talking about Steven like you probably would have if this were a trip not spawned from him, in a sense. Overall, everyone's just happy you're back regardless.
You meet a really old face amidst the crowd of family and friends who've assembled. Samson. Sammy. God, you'd know his face anywhere and you know he'd know yours too. You and Sammy have been best friends since diapers. Your moms were friends. Apparently, the story goes that your mom and dad were at the courthouse waiting in line to sign the marriage papers and so were Sammy's mom and dad. Your mothers started talking and it turns out they have a lot in common. By the time both parties left the courthouse, they were in each other's weddings, to which they then found out that they both would be moving into the same area to settle down. Your moms swear that you and Sammy being close in age was just a coincidence but you always joked that it wasn't.
Sammy is hard to put into words. How do you describe the person who's been your best friend since both of you were coloring with crayons and all the way to high school graduations and beyond? The number one person you would talk to about things outside of your parents and through all of the other friends you've both had throughout your lives, the one that has always been the same. Sammy is just Sammy to you, in the most sincere way possible.
After seeing each other at the cookout you catch up on just about everything. What you've been up to, any life milestones you've gotten to while apart. You tell him about London and he tells you about his life here in town. Sammy's gotten up to a few things, had a few girlfriends, and apparently, he's developed his own business. Turns out he's a handyman and locksmith now and makes great money. Gets to make his own hours, so he says. Sammy teases you a bit and asks if you've been collecting British boyfriends. You know it's just a tease but it plucks at the still tender parts of your heart a little. You brush it off and say no.
"No?" Sammy questions, "Come on. Someone like you over there? You're kidding me. You've got to have some guys waiting like a dog for you to come back." he says. You decide to play along in the banter.
"Maybe I do. What of it, Sam-I-Am." you shrug, pretending like he's trying to compete and also pulling out old childhood nicknames. Sammy cringes and the nickname, "Oof, not the Sam-I-Am from kindergarten. You know only my dad called me that until you said it in class. Then everyone started calling me that till fifth grade." Sammy laughs. "Not you doing your shitty British accents when I said I had a thing for British boys back in seventh grade." you reference and make a call back of your own. "It made you laugh and that was my goal." Sammy playfully defended.
For a good half of your stay, Sammy was there, like always, and you would be talking about the old days. Referencing various moments and laughing or cringing together. It felt so nostalgic and good to just feel that bond again, have someone who knows all your little inside jokes and references because they were there when it was formed, and you both didn't want it to stop.
So when the day that you were to go back to London you threw out the idea that Sammy come back with you and continue the fun there. Show him what you've been doing and show him the little life you've created there.
Even though you live in a one-bedroom apartment you managed to accommodate your guest pretty well. You always knew that the pull-out bed extension of your couch that you bought second-hand would have a use someday. You two settled on rules and bases, along with where various things are in case they're needed.
After that, it was just more talking that made the time go by so fast and other things seem so minuscule. You hadn't really paid attention to the fact that you had a brief text conversation with Steven when you got back basically just telling him that you were back and what you're up to right now. It wasn't until he texted you something that sort of snapped you out of it.
You: I'm not really doing anything but my friend came back with me and will be here for a bit.
Steven: Oh that's nice
Steven: Can I meet them maybe?
You weren't sure how long you spent looking at that message, but it was long enough that Sammy noticed. "Something wrong?" he asks. "No," you reply, "Just one of my friends. He says he wants to meet you... if you're okay with that," you explain but hesitate slightly at the end, not really liking the sound of having Steven over right now after being able to get him off your mind. "Sure! I'd love to meet one of your friends here." Sammy responds, "If that's alright with you of course." he adds.
You take a second to weigh it out in your mind. On one hand, having the guy that you have feelings for over after you went on a whole vacation partially because he doesn't feel that way towards you doesn't sound like the best idea. But maybe having Sammy here will reduce that feeling of awkwardness since it can just be having your friends meet each other.
Taking the gamble, you tell Steven that he's good to come over.
The next few minutes are spent continuing to talk to Sammy, making jokes and having banter. When you hear the knock at your door you and a text from Steven that announces that he's arrived. You get up from the couch and make your way to the door, unlocking it and opening it up. And there he is, smiling at you and giving you his usual polite little "hello". You greet him back before stepping out of the way so that he can come in.
Sammy gets up from his seat on the couch and comes to shake Steven's hand. You see Steven hesitate briefly and sort of freeze up before taking the hand shake. You step in between them.
"Steven, this is my childhood friend, Samson. Samson, this is my friend Steven." you introduce them to each other and gesture to them respectively. "Nice to meet you!" Sammy comments. "Likewise," Steven responds.
You all take a seat, you and Sammy back on the couch while Steven takes a chair from your little dining table set. Sammy and Steven have some good small talk back and forth, talking the usual stuff when you meet new people. You can see Steven being a little fidgety, picking at his sweater sleeve, nodding along but having a small crease between his brows. All things that he does when he's nervous or concerned with something, you take it as Steven being shy about meeting and talking to new people like he usually is. You take it upon yourself to sort of help him by bringing up subjects that you know he's good at talking about.
"Steven loves Ancient Egypt and mythos. He knows pretty much everything," you mention. Sammy raises his brows in interest, "Really?" he questions. "Oh yeah," Steven confirms, "I would have made a bloody good tour guide if my superior wasn't out to get me." Steven remarks. You see Sammy hold back a laugh in the corner of your vision, you turn to him and light-heartedly scold him with a "Stop it.". Sammy looks towards you, his smile growing to a shit-eating grin. "Stop it," you repeat, "Behave. I told you not to laugh," you say as you struggle to keep your own laughter in. "He said the thing." Sammy squeaks out before letting a few laughs leave him. You lean in and bap him on the shoulder playfully, "Stop," you warn as you give him a few baps.
Steven lets out a small laugh that only you can tell is his fake trying-to-pretend-I-get-it laugh. "I'm sorry, Steven." you apologize, "Not even 24 hours in and he doesn't know how to act," you say as you look back to Sammy and give him a playful shake. "I'm sorry." Sammy says to Steven, "There's an inside joke to it I swear." he says.
"What's the joke?" Steven inquires. Your face drops, knowing what Sammy is going to say. "Don't you dare," you warn Sammy as you try to cover his mouth, but Sammy already knew that you are going to stop him and is ready to block your hand. You both spend a few seconds lightly wrestling as you try to cover his mouth and he blocks you in some way. "It has something to do with her-" Sammy says before you interrupt him with a "No!" in objection, "British boyfriend!" Sammy announces. "I don't have a British boyfriend!" you object through laughs as you hit him with a couch pillow. You both spend a few moments laughing. When you finally calm down you find Steven looking at the two of you like you've grown and extra head.
You sigh and look to Sammy, "Why don't you explain 'British boyfriend' to him since you want to talk about it so much?". "Okay, okay," Sammy submits. "This one," Sammy says pointing at you, "Had a thing for this one kid who was visiting family for the summer in our home neighborhood back in seventh grade, or seventh year, whatever it's called here. And so we have this joke that he was her British boyfriend. And I used to do a really bad accent to make her laugh and get all embarrassed.", Sammy looks at you and reassures, "I'm not going to do it, don't worry.".
The conversation goes on but you and Sammy can't help but say more jokes that you then need to explain to Steven, which leads to other stories and laughing fits between the two of you. You try to do the same with Steven in case he references something between the two of you, but you find that Steven just seems to sit there and listen, nodding along. You want to try and prompt something but at some point, you're able to sense this weird tension in the air whenever you do.
You aren't too sure what to do. You don't want to shoo Steven out since you've always said that Steven was always welcomed at your place, but the atmosphere is strange between the two of you for some reason. It isn't until Sammy gives something that would get the job done.
"You know, it's really nice to meet you, Steven. But I think the traveling is starting to catch up with me." Sammy says as he stretches his arms out. "Oh, no worry. I was actually thinking of getting out of your hair. You know..." Steven responds, "Since you guys probably had to get out early to get back here." he clarifies. Steven was already getting up to leave by the time he even started talking.
Sammy and you get up also, and you go in for the usual goodbye hug that you and Steven do when parting ways, Sammy shakes Steven's hand again and says his goodbyes.
Once Steven leaves, you and Sammy set up the couch so that Sammy can nap for a bit. You head to your room so that you can take one for yourself and reflect on the meeting. You still have a bit of that feeling of weird tension but figure that maybe Steven wasn't prepared for all the energy that you and Sammy created and all the inside jokes. Maybe a second get-together could help with that. After all, it might be great to have two best friends also be best friends with each other.
Meanwhile, Steven walks back, sitting in his thoughts quietly as he walks until Marc appears in a reflection along the walk. "What's with the long face?" Marc asks. Steven glances at Marc for a moment, "Nothing, it's just that..." Steven opens up with, "I felt like a bit of a third wheel over there." he admits. Marc shrugs, "Well it is her friend from her hometown, isn't it? I'm sure they'd be all chatty with each other.".
"Yeah, I suppose so." Steven replies, "It just felt a bit... off." Steven remarks.
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How would breaking dawn have differed if Bella had been dead set on having an abortion? Like yep, no thanks, do what you gotta do Carlisle, no inhuman children here. If Carlisle had then been successful, would it just be like this weird thing the family never talked about? And would Edward continue to do everything under the sun apart from turning Bella?
Well, this would be very awkward, because given the weirdness Bella's body's going through and that her uterus cannot be cut open by human instruments I imagine Carlisle has to do the C-section abortion anyway and that he has to turn her in the process or she will very much die.
(Remaining human, despite Edward's insistence, really wasn't an option the moment Bella became pregnant. Her body turned against her, her digestive system completely warped, her uterus turned to stone--she wasn't going back even if she didn't have to be cut open with vampire teeth.)
And depending how far the fetus is along/how twilight hybridization works, it very much might survive the premature c-section.
So, in the world where the fetus does not survive, it haunts the family tremendously as Rosalie takes this very personally (even when she shouldn't), Edward sees it as all his fault and having destroyed Bella's life and turned her into a vampire in a circumstance he did not want/was trying to avoid, and Bella both has to deal with Rosalie and Edward's fallout as well as the fact that this was her one shot if she ever had wanted children and the emotional baggage that comes with that (yes, Bella was dead certain before and nothing wrong with that, kudos to her, but this is a hard thing for anyone to face and one of those things that brings existential doubt).
I imagine the Cullens would start to fracture after this.
If baby survives doubly so as there's this haunting truth of "the abortion didn't take", you have Bella trying and failing to be a mother even more than before because she didn't actually want this baby at all but now it's here and "fuuuuuuuuuuuuuck", you have Rosalie still being doubly weird because even though there's now a baby, Bella did try to abort, and now Bella's pretending she wanted it the whole time when Rosalie would gladly adopt in a heartbeat. And of course Edward.
#twilight#twilight meta#twilight headcanon#twilight renaissance#bella swan#edward cullen#anti edward cullen#rosalie hale#renesmee cullen#meta#headcanon#opinion
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Bloody Pardon 2
Summary: Anthony Lockwood x Fe!Reader -> Part 2 of Bloody Pardon. Aunt Violet and her friend June has come to visit and you're still married to Lockwood.
Disclaimer: Not proof read, fluff, angst, descriptions of panic attacks, talks of love, falling in love, pain of love.
“I beg your bloody pardon?”
You practically chased Lockwood down the stairs of the house.
In his hand, he was looking through more newspaper clippings George had found. You’d originally found him in the Library, his shirt sleeves rolled up and his tie thrown across the back of the sofa.
He’d been rambling things about the case and what he needed you to find out whilst George and Lucy headed out into town to collect extra equipment.
You’d asked what he would be doing. (collecting his aunt and her friend from the train station)
That was when he told you.
“You heard me.”
“Lockwood, I might be married to you but I am not your wife. I thought I had made that explicitly clear to you.”
“You have.” Lockwood agreed, leafing through the mail at the bottom of the stairs.
Sometimes you wondered whether he had any perception of anything else in his life.
“But, my Aunt is also bringing her best-friend who just happens to be…”
“A posh twat?”
You turned and found Lucy standing, eating a Digestive by the bottom of the stairs.
Lockwood gave her a short smile. “Highly opinionated, to put it nicely.”
“Still doesn’t mean we have to act like a married couple.”
“Yes, it does.”
“Why?”
“Because if we don’t, the night will only become more excruciating than it already will be. And I know for a fact nobody in this house wants that. Ever.”
“I thought she was coming down for the weekend?” Lucy asked.
You could kill Lockwood.
Maybe Kipps would still be your clean-up-crew.
An hour more of arguing and you finally gave in. You and Lockwood would act like the happy couple, Lucy and Kipps would join for the first evening meal and, since George would be visiting his parents for the weekend, that left a room open for his Aunt.
“If you’d like, I can sleep in the basement. Your Aunt’s friend can stay in my room.”
“Lucy!”
“Oh, sorry.”
You slammed your hand against your head before Lockwood thanked her and agreed with her.
“I do have one question though,” Lucy stated.
“Oh, you have one question.”
“If your aunt is staying and she thinks you're married…where will you two sleep?”
“In my room.”
Part of you felt Lockwood had answered way too quickly.
“And I suppose you feel safe sleeping next to me, inches from a pillow I could use to smother you in your sleep?”
Lockwood smiled and your stomach flipped - out of feeling or anger, you didn’t quite know.
“I trust you with my life, Darling.”
You narrowed your eyes and picked up the paper in front of you on the kitchen table. “Don’t push your luck, Sweetheart.”
After that, you moved out of the kitchen and went straight up to the attic before collapsing onto your bed and trying to drown both the light and your thoughts out with your pillow.
“It shouldn’t be that bad.”
Lucy must have followed you up.
“You’re not the one who’s married into the family involuntarily, might I add.”
Lucy laughed and made her way over to your bed before sitting down on the edge. “Come on, it’s not that bad.”
Swiftly, she pulled at the pillow until you let go and she placed it beside you. From there, she pulled at your hands before you sat up.
“Hey, at least you get to embrace your feelings towards Lockwood.”
“If, what you mean by feelings, is the capability to brutally murder him every hour then, sure. I’ll help add to the marital murder rate in this country.”
“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”
“No, I don’t.”
Lucy simply said your name and kept eye-contact.
Trust her to be the one to figure it out.
“I can’t like him, Lucy.”
“But you do.”
“But I do.”
“Why are you so fixed on not liking him?”
“Because in this world, liking someone puts everyone in danger. I don’t want to do that.”
“The only person you are putting in danger is yourself. You don’t think me and George don’t notice how you look at him or, better yet, how he looks at you?”
“He doesn’t look at me.”
“For the love of-” Lucy rolled her eyes and said your name again. “The pair of you are idiots.”
“Lucy, I trust your judgement of character but you’re all off for this one.”
“Bloody hell, alright. Fine. If I’m wrong-”
“You are.”
“I’m not.”
“But you are.”
“But I’m not.”
“What are you two arguing about?” George asked from the top of the stairs.
“She doesn’t believe Lockwood loves her.”
“Whoa, hey! No, I never said anything about love.”
“No, but your eyes do.”
“George.”
“Don’t look at me, I’m with Lucy on this one.”
“For the love of-”
“Tea’s ready!”
Despite your feelings of wanting to murder Lockwood, right now you could have kissed him.
A week later, George had left for his parents and whilst Lockwood cooked dinner back at Portland Row with the help of Kipps and Lucy, you were trying to clear your head from all the thoughts about what was or could possibly happen in the next couple of days.
You and Lucy had already spent all of the day before moving your stuff into Lockwood’s room to make it look more believable that you both were actually a married couple. Meanwhile, Lockwood and George covered the house in different photos of all of you from day’s out to “the wedding day.”.
And yet, despite all of this, you couldn’t seem to wrap your head around it.
Yes, your feelings towards Anthony Lockwood had been, in the past, less than professional. But, you had gone to great lengths to hide those particular feelings. And, so far, you’d done a good job.
Except, for the following few days, you were going to have to spend most of your time acting on or, at least, around those feelings all the while sharing the same bed with him.
Still, you didn’t exactly know when you had begun to walk back home but both too slowly and too quickly, you found yourself entering your key into your front door as the snow outside just began to clump on the street and the steps.
Entering, you were hit with the hot air from the house along with a mixture of smells from Lockwood’s cooking.
It was rare he ever cooked since George was always the better one, but - after finding out when you were sick - Lockwood could have been a close rival if he wanted to be.
You could hear laughter flowing from the living room and kitchen before you heard someone speak.
“So, is this her?”
The voice wasn’t anything like you had been expecting but then a second voice came from the kitchen.
“Oh, my, Anthony. You didn’t tell me she was this beautiful.”
The second woman pushed past the first with a smile on her face and she came straight over to you and you couldn’t help but mirror her own smile, it was that infectious.
“Hello, my darling. I’m Violet, but please, call me Vi.”
“Okay.”
You were still spinning a little so it took you a moment before introducing yourself.
“Quick, let's get that coat off you.” Violet started to help you remove your coat before walking you towards the kitchen with her. “This is June.”
You shook her hand but, compared to Violet, June seemed…you couldn’t tell. Just…not as warming.
“Now, I want to get to know my new grand-niece. Tony tells me you're the best swordswoman he’s ever seen.”
The ‘getting to know you’ conversation was split between Violet asking her questions to which Lockwood would manage to answer most of them and June asking her but Violet completely ignoring her.
Until the BIG question.
“Why did you two get married?”
June was rather harsh in her asking but Violet just smiled joyfully and turned to you. “Oh, yes. Tony, I’m still upset about that. I, at least, deserved an invite to your wedding.”
As Lockwood began to reply, you shot out of your seat to help him save what he had been cooking in his pan as it started to boil over. Taking a tea towel, you wrapped it around the handle and turned down the heat at Lockwood reached above you for a lid, handed it to you and reached for the seasoning.
You replaced the pan onto the stove, holding onto the lid. Lockwood found certain seasonings before asking you if you’d seen the Rosemary.
“Top shelf.”
“Ah.”
The pair of you worked in sync until you placed the lid on top and turned to face him only to find the pair of you closer than you’d ever been when stood in the kitchen together.
“That’s why, June.”
You both turned and found the two older women watching you both like you were their favourite soap opera.
“Look at them, how they move together. You know, my Frank and I were like that when we were younger.”
As much as the following conversation had stemmed from the way Violet viewed yourself and Lockwood together, it gave you enough time to distract yourself from the fact that you and Lockwood were standing closer than you had agreed with before you walked back home.
Dinner passed by easier than you expected, but you still thanked the heavens for Lucy and Kipps who managed to distract Violet and June into either reminiscing about the past or thinking about the future of couples such as Lucy and Kipps.
Until June asked her questions again.
Lucy- well, Kipps was half way through talking about Lucy and their first date when June turned to you and Lockwood who were sitting shoulder to shoulder and asked; “How did you know you two were in love? After all, you both are a little younger than some to get married in this day and age. How did you know he was the one?”
You sat there, food half chewed and you shared a slightly panicked look with Lockwood who, despite all the questioning, somehow still managed to keep his cool.
“Erm, well…”
Think of something, think of something, think of something, think of something, think of something, think of something, think of some-
“It shouldn’t be that hard, dear. He is your husband after all.”
Husband.
That word echoed over and over in your head.
Lockwood is your husband. Shouldn’t you have a story?
“Oh, June. Leave her alone. She’s had a busy day, I’m sure she’ll tell us later.”
“No, Vi. We’ve come to see the newly wedded couple, haven’t we?”
It felt like the walls were closing in on you and the room was slowly starting to fall onto an axis. Slowly, the voices began to muffle and before you knew it, you pushed your chair back and excused yourself.
“I’ll be right back.”
In the distance, you could hear Lockwood apologising for you. Something about work and a brutal interrogation not that long ago.
Pulling yourself up the stairs with the bannister, you eventually made it into the bathroom and shut the door behind you.
Usually, anytime you looked at Lockwood, you got nervous. But, like, happy-nervous, butterflies forming a tornado in your stomach nervous.
Only, with the questioning and feelings and the having to act like you loved Lockwood with all your heart whilst also making sure that the real feelings were kept at bay and the feelings of annoyance remained and the fake and real feelings didn’t get mixed up; that happy tornado now felt like a washing machine that had come off its hinges and was beating against your lungs.
It took a while before you realised Lockwood had been standing outside the bathroom door almost the entire time and had been calling your name.
Meanwhile, you had turned the tap on and off twice, splashed your face twice and by the time you felt ready to open the door and head back downstairs, Lockwood pulled you back.
“Hey, you okay?”
“Yeah, yeah. Sorry.”
“Don’t apologise. You don’t have to apologise.”
“Christ,” that feeling was coming back.
You pressed your hand to your stomach, trying to focus on your breathing.
Lockwood’s gaze scanned your face. You were growing paler by the second and your breathing was just like how it used to be when you had a horror movie night with Lucy and George and you knew something was coming - you just didn’t know what.
“Alright. You’re alright.” Lockwood’s hand came to your shoulders, looking around before finding his room and leading you inside.
From there, Lockwood sat you down on the bed before closing the door and coming back and kneeling in front of you.
“I don’t know if I can do this. I-I can’t lie to your family, Anthony. I can barely lie to myself.”
Lockwood continued to study you before bringing your hand to his chest.
“Can you feel that?”
“Feel what?”
“My heartbeat. Can you feel it?”
Lockwood pressed your hand closer to his chest until he saw the small flicker of recognition in your eyes.
“Okay, I want you to count. I want you to count the beats until you can breathe again. Okay?”
“Okay.”
You were on track for a while until your mind started floating again.
“It’s just me and you. Nobody else. Just me and you, counting the beats.”
You nodded and started counting again.
You didn’t know how long had passed. No-one came to find either of you and Lockwood never made a move to get out or apologise to anyone for taking so long.
It was just you and him.
He didn’t care if it took all night to make sure you were okay. He would kneel on the floor with you and for you, holding your hand against his chest, counting his heartbeats until you finally were able to breathe.
“I don’t know if I- I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to be…with you.”
Without being with you, you wanted to add.
“Then just be you.” Anthony told you. “Just be you. Lord knows Barnes already calls us an old married couple anyway.”
Lockwood’s statement made you smile, and only when you let out a soft, quiet laugh, did he fully smile, too.
“I’m sorry,” Lockwood apologised, gripping your hand in his a little tighter. “If I’d never picked up the case-”
“Then Faye would have never have gotten the answers about her brother and would still be spending every night wondering what happened to him,” you told Lockwood. “I know why you did it, Lockwood. I don’t blame you for doing what you did, even if you did sign real papers rather than fake ones.”
Lockwood nodded, waiting for you to continue.
“But…I guess we could skip over the newly wedded bliss and go straight to an old married couple?”
Lockwood looked up to you for a moment, both delighted and unsure on how to react.
“I mean, when have we ever done anything straight forward in this house?”
Lockwood smiled, and let out a small sigh of relief before lowering his head and bringing your hand to his lips and kissing your palm.
“Thank you.” Lockwood then held your hand in both of his. “For everything. And, if it helps, we’re only gonna be married for a few more days.”
“What?”
“I finally got a call back from the solicitor.” Lockwood told you. “He did say it’s the first case Miss Kirk has ever had where fake and real documents have been mistaken in a marriage contract, but she’s taken our case and she’s drawing up all what needs to be signed. Everything that we each own will remain with ourselves. It’ll be as if we were never married.”
It took you a moment before you realised what this meant.
No more husband or wife.
It’ll go back to the way that it was.
Just friends and coworkers.
Feelings could be hidden again and you would never have to talk about them, ever again.
“Well…good. Thank you, Lockwood.”
Lockwood nodded, slowly letting your hand go as he stood. “I-I should go and check on everyone. Make sure they haven’t killed Lucy and Kipps yet.”
“Yeah, you better. And, Tony?”
He looked back from the door.
“Thank you.”
Lockwood nodded with a smile in response before leaving the room and closing the door behind him and the moment he did, you felt your heart shatter.
Meanwhile, unbeknownst to you, Lockwood’s had done the same.
Downstairs, Lockwood told everyone you were okay and had just eaten something bad earlier that day. You had thought the walk would have cleared your head but it didn’t so you just needed a little time.
June’s reaction didn’t go unnoticed by Lockwood either.
She either didn’t like you and therefore didn’t care, or she didn’t believe a word he said.
Maybe both.
But when you came down ten minutes later, Violet hugged you and had you sit down.
She had noticed you hadn’t finished your tea since June’s grilling had sent your stomach beating against your lungs so, whilst Lucy, Kipps and Lockwood entertained June in the living room - helped with Violet’s excuse of wanting to get to know her grand-niece better - Violet made you a cup of tea and some dry toast.
“I always wanted another girl in the family. Ever since me, there hasn’t been another girl born. All boys.” Violet smiled, pushing the toaster down. “So when I heard Anthony had gotten married, I was over the moon. I would have liked an invite, but it was rather short notice.”
“You have no idea,” you laughed a little. “Listen, Mrs-”
“Please, call me Violet. Or, Vi.”
“Violet,” you smiled.
In all honesty, you were a nervous-wreck. You pressed your hands between your knees as you turned to look at her as she finished stirring the two teas she’d made.
“Oh, thank you.” She handed you your cup. “Violet.”
“Yes, my dear.”
“You have to know, I do love your nephew. We’re both young and it was quick but I do love him.”
Violet smiled. “I have no doubt about that, my dear. And, please, ignore June. She really is a nice woman. When I first met her, she didn’t believe that me and Frank were a couple and were rather two undercover agents.”
“Oh,” you laughed.
“Yes, oh.” Violet replied. “She’ll warm up to you eventually. Just give her time. And tea. She loves tea.”
“Noted.”
“But I would like to know something,” she added. “When did you know?”
“Know what?” you asked, a little weary.
“That you loved Anthony. People will dispute young and first love also being your forever and last love, but I don’t. I’d just like to know. It’s been so long since I've seen a love story play out and, just when did you know?”
You smiled, placing your hand over her’s as she held your other hand.
“I’ll tell you, but I have to warn you, it’s not exciting.”
“Any tale of love is exciting at my age, my dear.”
With a smile, you then told her the truth.
You told her about the day you knew you had fallen in love with Anthony Lockwood.
You’d known you liked him ever since you’d been arguing with him when fighting off level two spirits in a building just outside of Guildford.
You’d been annoyed at him for a couple of weeks since he’d been reckless too many times to count and it was only when you yelled at him, not noticing the spirit behind you and he pushed you onto the ground to save you, did you speak to him in a normal voice.
“Why are you so bothered about this?”
“Because if something happened to you, what do you think I’d-” you’d panicked for a moment but kept your cool. “We’d do? What do you think we’d do if something happened to you, Tony?”
It was a while before you told him you loved him (at least, that’s what you told Violet.)
But the day you fell in love with him, and you admitted it to yourself, was the day he had just come home.
He’d been out most of the day and Lucy and George had gone to pick up some take-out when you stood in the kitchen doorway and saw him hang up his coat, remove his tie and walk inside.
It was nothing spectacular. It was just a small “I love you” that you said in your head. In fact, it took you a moment or two before you even knew you’d said it in your head.
“And what about Tony? When did he-”
“When I saw her teach George how to dance in the living room one day,” Lockwood said from where he was leaning against the door frame. “Though I didn’t know it at the time.”
“Just as bad as your uncle.” Violet said. “You know, it took me hitting him over the head with the morning newspaper for him to tell me he loved me. A man of very few words, but also a man of great action.”
Lockwood smiled at you and you smiled back as he pulled out a chair and sat beside you with his arm across the back of yours.
Lockwood then sat there as Violet told both of you the story of her and Frank and how they met and fell in love and got married and despite how much they tried, they could never have children.
But it was okay.
“We spent all our free time helping out other families, helping lost children find their families when they’ve been separated by lost spirits.”
It wasn’t until June, however, came inside telling everyone she was going to bed that you had noticed you’d seemingly moulded yourself into Lockwood’s side as Violet had been telling her story.
All that came now was sleeping in the same bed as Lockwood.
Maybe you could build a pillow wall.
Tags: who asked for a part two
@locknco
@nothing0075
@wordsarelife
@cassiopeiia24
#lockwood and co#netflix#lockwood & co#anthony lockwood x reader#anthony lockwood#lockwood x reader#lockwood x fe!reader#anthony lockwood x fe!reader#love#fluff#angst#bloody pardon#lucy carlyle#george karim#quill kipps#lucy x kipps
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Gold Rings and Black Roses Pt 2
pairing: Radha Rama x Aadhya
warning: siblings!Deva and Aadhya
Pt 1 here
-
Aadhya comes back, fresh from her shower, and is shown to the seat at the opposite end of the table to where Radha Rama was already sitting. A female guard had handed Aadhya a new cotton top and pair of jeans for her to wear, and she could see that Radha Rama had also changed into a yellow saree. The table was laden with various dishes, and both of their plates were already filled with a sampling of each dish. After a silent look from the older woman, all of the guards bow their heads and leave the room. Obullamma also leaves, not before giving Aadhya a look that’s half confusion and half jealousy.
I don’t know what’s going on either! Don’t look at me like I stole your favorite toy! Aadhya wants to yell at her, but figures that would not be good for her life.
Finally, Radha Rama turns her gaze to Aadhya, who can’t help but squirm.
Why the hell was this woman so hot??
She tilts her face, studying Aadhya for a few seconds. Aadhya hopes she won’t take long to decide whatever it was she was deciding, because she hadn’t had actual good food in days.
Radha Rama finally speaks. She gestures to Aadhya’s plate. “Eat.”
Aadhya hesitantly mixes some pappu with some rice, and brings the hand to her mouth to take a bite. Swallowing, she tries to be polite. “The food is really good.”
Radha Rama keeps looking at her coolly. “I know. I have some of the best chefs in the country working for me.”
Interesting, Aadhya thinks. The words were not meant as a boast, but as a mere fact. Of course Radha Rama, whoever this woman was, would have incredible private chefs.
She nods, and keeps eating, trying not to show her embarrassment on her face. What would it take for this woman to be impressed? A few seconds later, Aadhya realizes Radha Rama hadn’t eaten anything yet, and her heart skips a beat. Silently praying that the food wasn’t poisoned or something, she tries conversation again. “You should eat too.” And because apparently her mouth has no filter, she can’t help but joke. “You’re missing out on some great dal.”
Radha Rama looks taken aback, then the side of her lip curls up. “...You’re right.”
Aadhya watches as the older woman, almost like she forgot how to, slowly mixes her own rice and pappu, and tastes it. Her eyes close, and she slowly chews, like she’s experiencing the taste for the first time. Abruptly, Radha Rama opens her eyes like she just realized she’s being watched, and Aadhya can’t hide her wide-eyed look in time.
Radha Rama chuckles at her, but it’s not mean this time. “I pretended to be insane and incapable of doing anything on my own for seven years. It’s why Obullamma was so surprised that I could stand, and it’s why I haven’t eaten by myself in so long.”
Aadhya… digests that information. She doesn’t want to pry, whatever would make a person do all that would probably be upsetting, so she continues eating.
They spend some time in silence, and Aadhya is aware that Radha Rama is letting her watch the woman enjoy her food, but what the end game is there Aadhya has no idea. Eventually her curiosity gets too much for her to stay quiet.
“So why am I here?”
Radha finishes chewing before answering. “I want your brother here.” She frowns. “The original plan was for him to rescue you from Rinda. He would have broken the seal, and he and that lover of his-” The word ‘lover’ is spat with a sneer. “-would’ve fought to the death. Even he has to abide by the Nibandhanam. One of them would live, and whoever survived I could easily pick off. That is, if they hadn’t mutually destroyed each other.” She shrugs. “But he didn’t do what I expected him to, so I just had Vedha send him a message about your parentage. Now he’ll show up, take you away, and Rinda can go cry to his dear karta that your brother broke the seal.”
Aadhya has so many questions she doesn’t even know where to start.
“Ok,” she says, trying to process. “Ok, even before I ask who the hell my brother is supposed to be, or what the hell a nibandhanam is, you could have still killed me and sent him a message about that. Then he could’ve come to get revenge or something, breaking the seal by killing Rinda. That was Obullamma’s plan, right? So why am I here?”
Radha Rama studies her, like she’s unsure of whether she should say what she’s thinking of. Finally, she answers. “You remind me of myself.”
“Thank you?” It comes out as more of a question than Aadhya wants it to be. “How so?”
“You were willing to do anything for your father. And brave enough to stand up to the people that kidnapped you, making a deal with them. I was that way, once.” Radha Rama, having finished eating, uses her glass to wash her hands in her plate, and stands up. She slowly makes her way over to Aadhya, who’s sitting frozen. Radha Rama puts her hands on either side of Aadhya’s corner of the table, and leans into her space.
Aadhya can see now that Radha Rama had taken her time freshening up in the time before lunch. The kajal had been reapplied to her waterline, her hair was neatly braided down her back, and the faded bottu had been replaced by a striking red one. Was that.. perfume? Aadhya can smell a faint floral scent, something expensive. Up close, she can see how much she had underestimated the older woman’s beauty. Even at her age, which Aadhya estimates to be around fifteen years older than herself, Radha Rama is regal and commanding, eyes piercing through Aadhya’s very soul.
“I was once like that,” Radha Rama repeats herself. “I was going to be the next karta, did you know that? After my dear father’s reign ended. I would have ruled, as I was told since I was a child. I grew up with no votes, no power, no friends, because everyone assumed I would get my fifteen and a kingdom as soon as the time was right.” Aadhya has no idea what a karta is but she believes it, can see this woman on a throne.
“I sacrificed so much for that throne,” Radha Rama continues, voice dropping into an intimate whisper that does things to Aadhya’s stomach, and she can’t help but glance at the older woman’s dark lips as she talks. “I married a man I didn’t love. I played watchdog for my idiot brother and that boytoy of his, fought for a ceasefire for that ungrateful bastard child, and for what? To be betrayed, to be cast aside like I was nothing.” She focuses back on Aadhya. “Us both, sisters of men who have never cared about anything other than their own self interest, daughters of men who we’ve been separated from, and daughters of dead mothers.”
Radha Rama leans back, smirking at Aadhya who slowly lets out the breath she had been holding, wiping her hand on a nearby napkin to conceal the way it had been shaking. “That’s what I see in you.”
Aadhya, for once in her life, practices great restraint to not immediately suggest for this woman to meet with a therapist. She has no idea what Radha Rama was talking about but she knows this speech was seven years overdue.
She also has to practice great restraint to not jump this woman’s bones.
Aadhya is saved from her thoughts from the servants that come to take her plate, and she smiles at them. “Thank you,” she tells them in English.
Once the plates are gone, she looks over to see Radha Rama, now lounging in her chair.
“I’m sorry that happened to you,” she offers. Radha Rama raises an eyebrow.
“You had no idea what I was talking about, don’t lie.”
Aadhya shrugs. “No. But as a fellow woman, I’m still sorry that happened to you.” She sees it again, that flicker of surprise in Radha Rama’s face. She presses her luck. “So who’s this brother of mine? Why haven’t I ever seen or heard of him before?”
Radha Rama just laughs again, and Aadhya tries not to instinctively smile along with it. The laughter is sharp and melodic, and goddamn Aadhya stop acting like you have a school crush-
“You spent the last few days with him and your birth mother, actually,” she says. Aadhya stares at her, then the realization hits.
The momentary elation of learning she has more family members disappears when she remembers the last time she saw who was apparently her biological mother. Of course Aadhya had known she was adopted her whole life, her parents had never shied away from that fact. Aadhya just had never bothered looking for her biological parents. Now, thinking about Amma’s accusing glare, about Deva’s complete indifference to her safety, she wishes she never found out. Aadhya doesn’t know how much Deva knew about her adoption, but there was no way Amma didn’t know Aadhya was her own family when she realized she was Krishnakanth’s daughter. And she still let them take me away.
Radha Rama watches with confusion, as Aadhya’s face falls. “You didn’t like them?” she asks incredulously.
“More like they didn’t like me,” Aadhya chuckles wetly.
Radha Rama frowns. “Why the hell not? What’s wrong with you?”
Aadhya wants to laugh again. How come this stranger, the woman who had kidnapped her, was treating her better than her own family?
“Well, it doesn't matter. Either he’ll come to rescue you once he finds out you’re his sister, or…” Aadhya looks up to see a glint in the older woman’s eyes. “Or Obullamma will get her wish.”
A chill runs down Aadhya’s spine. Stupid, she thinks. She had completely forgotten about the fact that there wasn’t much stopping Radha Rama from killing her, that the woman was very much capable of killing her if her stories of ruling were to be believed, and went and started crushing on her.
Radha Rama smirks at her visible fear, before calling for a guard to escort Aadhya back to her room.
It takes a while for Aadhya to fall asleep, but when she does, she dreams of Obullamma taking a knife to her face, gleefully slicing it open. In the background, she can see Deva watching it happen, face blank and body unmoving. The dream suddenly shifts, and she’s now on her back, she can’t move- why can’t I move?? and she hears the voice of a young boy in the background. She can’t make out the words for some reason but he sounds distressed, pleading. The dream finally shifts once more to the hospital room she stayed in for days. Aadhya notices her mother, lying on the hospital bed but not hooked up to any of the machines. She’s dressed in one of her regular chudidars, the pink one with dancing figures around the border, not the patient gowns Aadhya had last seen her in.
Her mother lifts a hand up to caress Aadhya’s face.
“Naa bangaru thalli [my golden daughter],” she says, her smile radiating joy. “You were the best gift I ever got.”
Aadhya smiles back, wishing she could stay in this moment forever.
-
tags: @recentinterest @theimmortalprince @nini9224 @just-a-lazy-person @alezangona @omgdontlookatmeuniverse @greatkittykoala @sinistergooseberries @inveter and ofc all the server besties
#salaar#ramaadhya#shorter chapter but we needed this before i got to the actual relationship and deva reunion#salaar fic
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alright, so according with this description alone, i already got what this show was intending to do. i haven't seen not even the first episode.
"comedy" = general tone of levity to highlight the horror/dramatic moments.
"drama" = big focus on the character's relationships or their own personal backstories.
"slice of life" = their everyday life on a fantasy setting.
fantasy = actual genre that dictates the conditions of the setting.
action = sometimes there are fights.
adventure = sometimes there are fights and they move a lot, with a purpose.
"adventures in a dungeon" = this show targets D&D fans or people who enjoy high fantasy stories.
"exploring the cuisine made out of monster" = what D&D fan hasn't asked themselves what does the creatures they had to fight with would taste like? this is just the logical follow through of the premise with it's own little twist to make it stand out.
"pull the digested bones of the main character's sister our a large dragon and use a dark ritual to bring her back to life" = two things are accomplished here. first, it provides a introduction to the notion that even thought this is fantasy, this is a realistic take on fantasy in which the character are still are at risk of being harmed. there are actual stakes to these characters falling to eat the monsters because they can get eaten instead. the second thing this does is give an emotional core in the form of the relationship between these siblings.
"she comes back slightly wrong" = emotional conflict. this is not my sister, something is wrong with her, but i care too much about her to let her go.
"get ropped into a conspiracy related to the creation of the dungeon" = the actual plot of the show outside of the emotional core.
again, without having watched not even the first episode, this seems like a perfectly easy to understand premise with a story that is going to pull some emotional punches and use the comedic tone so the horror elements stand out even more by contrast.
futhermore... this is nothing extraordinary in term of anime, fantasy or otherwise. you can really tell that LO has not watched a lot of anime outside of what she saw as a kid when she is shocked by a story doing more than one singular thing.
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The Dark Side of Communication
I am sure it's not just me but people with pisces, scorpio rising or placements, 8th or 12th house placements or even major plutonic people, are pretty aware of manipulation, lies and the monsters that live in people. The first few times when I was manipulated, I blamed myself for too long analyzing and ruminating endlessly on my vulnerability, how I let things escalate, how I was naive and immature. Such natives take dishonesty seriously and are really afraid of dishonesty in others.
I brainstormed endlessly trying to find my weakness and loopholes. Was I stupid? Doormat? Spineless? How could I not tell lies and manipulation? How did I trust them so easily?
There are two answers to this.
First = Although my dominant personality is "authentic or honest", I believe that everyone who comes into our life brings a lesson to learn. Even if you meet bad and evil people, they are your exposure to the dimensions of personality you had never encountered before. They are your own shadow figures that you refuse to acknowledge or even afraid of accepting in yourself. I may try to shout how virtuous I am but in the dark corners of my heart I know that even I am capable of being a really bad person in certain situations.
Second = Manipulation, lies, dishonesty are only caught in the hindsight. It is pretty much impossible to tell who is lying or manipulating or being dishonest or selfish in the moment, it is only when the event has passed and we think in retrospect after some time that we realize that we have been lied to or manipulated.
I realized that I can take endless precautionary measures, analyze the roots of my psyche and read a hundred books on psychology... but when a trickster comes into life to trick me, he will succeed no matter what. And it is only in hindsight that I will come to realization that I have been fooled once again. This is the dark side of communication. There is simply no way to predict the character of a person in advance. Tragedy of communication is that dots only connect in hindsight.
Another dark side is that person in the communication cannot tell things outright but the onlookers can tell things out. How we say "That girl is dating such a douchebag but she does not realize it" Yes because it is her blindspot and she does not understand because things only make sense in retrospect and currently she is in the process of communication. Maybe he tricks her and lies to her a lot but she digests everything because she does not sit back and question "This does not make sense, something is off".
So, this is my sad conclusion but anyway what can we do except be resilient? These natives are also hypersensitive so we really have it harder in communications. Just be vigilant and keep a close friend by your side who can give third person advice on your matters!!
#astrology#astro community#astro observations#astrology observations#astroblr#astro notes#astro tumblr#astrology blog#astrology notes#8th house#12th house#Scorpio#pisces#shadow self
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A Work Of Art: (Modern!Nikolai Lantsov x Reader FANFIC)
Pairings: Nikolai Lantsov x Reader, Sturmhond x Reader
Summary: Pyotr Lantsov is the CEO of the world famous Lantsov Art and Antiquities and founder of the Esthetica Gallery in New York, after he dies (Y/N) finds herself the new owner of the gallery she has helped be a success. Meanwhile world renowned and ellusive art thief Sturnhond and his crew hit the biggest galleries across the globe stealing back precious art. At a charity gala announcing (Y/N)'s success what happens when Sturmhond threatens to make an appearance and a familiar face haunts (Y/N).
Warnings: strong language, alcohol, mentions of death, sexual harassment, crime, Vasily (because that mf needs a warning all to himself)
Authors Note: Hello you wonderful lot please note this piece is a Modern AU of our favourite Puppy Prince and is therefore not canonically accurate. I decided to write this as I am currently bed bound with an infection in my jaw and cheekbone so need some Nikolai loving to distract me. IF YOU WISH TO BE ADDED TO MY TAGLIST FOR THIS PLEASE DONT HESITATE TO DROP ME A MESSAGE.
A single solitary tear escapes your eye as your thumb hits the screen ending the call, your apartment is quiet, almost eerily so, as you sit motionless trying to digest the news that has been delivered to you over the phone. Your boss Pyotr Lantsov; CEO of Lantsov Art and Antiquities and founder of the Esthetica Gallery in New York; was dead the cause of which yet unknown.
It goes without saying that Pyotr was not the greatest of men, from several sordid affairs splashed across every tabloid to a penchant for gambling. He was bad, but you couldn’t suppress the bubbling grief in your chest, for all his wrong doings he was still your boss. The only person who gave you a shot in this black hole of a city when no one else would and for that you would be forever indebted to him.
Art had always been your one solace, even in the devastation of several historical paintings and artefacts there was still beauty. Ever lasting and pure there was something to say for the way a picture could tell you a thousand stories or a vintage watch could tell you the deepest secrets of its past. Esthetica had become your life from the moment you stepped foot within its walls, each brush stroke telling the story of a thousand memories the artists voice imbedded in every stroke. This gallery was your life’s ambition and work, it was in all respects your baby having a hand from the day you began in building its prestigious reputation.
In the weeks following his death the control of the company, gallery and its assets passed to his son Vasily. Vasily made your skin crawl he truly was a weasel of a human being and that was you being kind. Every day you were at the gallery from sun up to sun down working yourself to the bone to keep every morsel of it running as smoothly as possible. Pyotr’s wife Tatiana had no interest in the business and Vasily was, well, much the same to be honest. He was more interested in snorting away his inherited fortune and screwing his way through every New York model than actually having a hand in the business that afforded him these luxuries.
It was one of your rare days off when your phone rang, a heavy sigh fell from your mouth when you seen the name on your screen.
Tatiana calling…
“Hello?” You kept your voice friendly but monotone.
“(Y/N) darling wonderful to hear your voice, listen darling I’ve sent a car over to your apartment Vasily and I have a matter we wish to discuss with you in person. The driver will bring you over to the estate.” As much as you didn’t want to speak to her you continued to listen to her rabbit on about god knows what.
“Tatiana can this wait until tomorrow I am exhausted from sorting things in the gallery.” You pleaded trying to avoid having to see either of them, especially Vasily who would no doubt spend the entire time trying to get in your knickers.
“(Y/N) darling I’m afraid this can’t wait.” Her tone is insistent, you hope she can’t hear you roll your eyes on the other end of the phone.
“Ok I will be there shortly.” Hanging up the phone you groan falling face first into the cushion on your sofa.
You gather your belongings after quickly changing into something that wasn't an oversized shirt and underwear heading down to the street where the car is waiting.
The greenery of your surroundings trickled by as you got further from the city heading upstate and before you could comprehend you had arrived at the Lantsov estate with its impressive white exterior and lavish acres of green land.
The holler of a nearby bird startles you as you make your way towards the large entrance to the house, your nerves already fraught at the thought of being in proximity of Vasily. Making your way further into the house you are directed by a member of the house staff to the living area where Tatiana and Vasily are enjoying an afternoon drink whilst chatting idly.
“(Y/N) darling thank you for getting here so quickly, here let me grab you a drink. Sit, sit darling!” She gestures wildly for you to sit placing a glass of what you can only assume is single malt scotch in your hand. Bit early for you but its down your throat in one fellow swoop before you even consider discussing what was so urgent that they tore you away from your family sized bag of Doritos and Gilmore Girls box set.
“Tatiana what is this all about, why am I here?” Crossing your legs as Vasily’s gaze lingers on your exposed calf.
It’s Vasily who answers the question that lingers in the air “(Y/N) sweetheart” your skin is crawling already, you want to claw it off and flee this place, “Mother and I have been talking, we want you to take over Esthetica, we want to sign the gallery and all of its associated assets over to you or should we say Dad wanted us to. You practically run the place anyway we thought it was about time it was official.”
Your mouth hung open every possible emotion flooded your body, this was what you dreamed of ever since you could talk and now its happening you can’t quite believe it. You stand from your position on the sofa as Tatiana pulls you into a tight embrace.
“I don’t know what to say.” You stand dumbfounded.
“Say yes sweetheart.” Vasily lounges on the sofa his arm draped over the back of it.
“Yes, yes of course. I can’t thank you enough.” Tears are now falling as the news starts to settle in.
“Nonsense its what Pyotr wanted, we had the idea of throwing a charity gala and announcing the news to the partners there. We of course want you to help plan the gala after all it is going to be your gallery.”
The afternoon passes quickly after ideas are exchanged and plans are put into action, looking at your watch you rub your brow before standing and stretching your tired limbs.
“I really must get going but thank you again for this opportunity.” You turn to leave but a portrait hanging above a chest of drawers catches your attention.
It’s of Tatiana and a young boy, he’s blond and has striking blue eyes it could be Vasily but something in you tells you its not. You walk towards it and examine it, tilting your head to take in every aspect of it.
“Beautiful isn’t he?” Turning Tatiana has a sad smile on her face, you open your mouth but she speaks before you have the chance to “That’s Nikolai, my youngest.”
“Nikolai? Tatiana I didn’t know you had another son.” You are confused, Pyotr never mentioned having another son.
“Nikolai left home for the army a long time ago, I don't know where he is now.” She holds her hands close to her chest staring off into the space in the room. Vasily scoffs from his position on the sofa mumbling under his breath.
“What was that Vasily?” You ask hoping to get a rise out of him, you can see the mention of his little brother has him worked up.
“I said he’s an arrogant little sod!” He shouts face red with anger, you try to hide your smile getting your desired reaction.
After Vasily’s outburst you leave the estate rather quickly climbing into the car to head back to the city the sound of the radio softly swirling round the air. The sun has just about set by the time you begin to see the skyline of New York coming into view, the news broadcast on the radio catches your attention.
“Excuse me, would you mind turning the radio up a bit please?” You politely ask the driver.
“Of course madam no problem.” He replies reaching for the dial on the stereo turning it to the right increasing the volume.
This is breaking news, the world renowned art thief known as Sturmhond has struck once again. Reports suggest the thief hit the Tate Modern Gallery in London earlier this morning before the gallery opened making off with several paintings including the famous Sun Summoner piece. Police are baffled as to how the thief entered the museum undetected, more on this as it develops.
The next day rolls around and you head to the gallery hoping to contact your talent to see about pieces to present at the gala, heading from your office you decide you need to clear your head and head to the floor to bask in the art knowing you will find your relief once there.
There are several people milling about the gallery but one figure in particular peaks your interest, he’s tall and broad shouldered with a head of striking blond hair. He stares at the piece on the wall (which happens to be your favourite) you approach standing by his side admiring the painting also a small smile threatening the corner of your mouth.
“Beautiful isn’t it.” You say still looking at the piece hanging on the wall.
“Exquisite” he faces you, your breath catches in your throat at his startling blue eyes.
There is something so familiar about him but you cannot place it no matter how hard you try, your head tilts slightly taking in the man in front of you. He extends a hand out in front of you palm facing yours.
“Cole” he shakes your hand offering up his name.
“(Y/N)” you can’t hide the smile that is on your face, he feels like trouble but you push down the feeling instead choosing to revel in this moment.
#nikolai lantsov#nikolai lantsov x reader#nikolai lantsov x you#nikolai lantsov x reader fanfic#sturmhond#sturmhond x reader#sturmhond x reader fanfic#modern!nikolai lantsov x reader#modern!sturmhond x reader#modern!nikolai lantsov x reader smut#nikolai smut#nikolai lantsov fanfic#shadow and bone
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This is apparently hot take but I don't agree that Simon and Betty were bad for each other, or that their relationship was unhealthy in any way.
They had their own individual issues going on (who doesn't?) but it was nothing that couldn't be overcome. People are being way too judgemental
honestly me too... but then again my perception of them is more autism spectrum informed, so maybe im just being sensitive and stupid about it?
i also... kind of dont agree that leaving betty in the situation she is—as we currently know it to be—is all that fair to her. i see people saying things like 'they just need to get over each other/leave each other' and that simon just needs to accept things as they are now. and im like... idk man, i honestly don't think that's the tidy answer to all of this. because all of that has already happened in a way.
he's obviously exhausted every option of trying to bring her back, and much like the situation with margles, even prismo couldn't help her. from what we see in 'obsidian' and the end of 'come along with me', he obviously did try to live with the sacrifices she made for him and move on with his life. of course he would still try to save her, but i think it's pretty obvious that at some point he finally accepted that there is no way of saving her, and that this is just the way things are forever. his golb shrine/ritual items are an act of ultimate desparation; in the end he wasn't trying to summon golb to fix her or something, he was trying to portal himself to the golb dimension. i think he was completely aware that if he made it to the golb dimension that there was no hope of ever returning from there, and that doing this probably would kill him... but that would be fine with him, because at least he could see her one last time.
betty, and golbetty, could have made the choice to stay with him in ooo. either to escape golb's guts with him and endure the end of the world together, or to remain fused with golb and just let the world end with only he and her left alive... but she didn't. for all intents and purposes, she did let him go. she, and later whatever of her was left, made the choice to leave him, to banish herself from this realm and give him the opportunity to live his life. you can see it so clearly inside golb's guts that she's tormented by the situation she put them in, and that she feels extremely guilty for how her actions had led to their, and ooo's, downfall.
i know it still reinforces her cycle of self sacrificing behaviour... but to be fair, this is a much different situation than, like, conciously deciding not to go to australia to explore a new and exciting relationship. i think in that moment she realized, as she apologizes to him for "messing everything up", that there was no way of them both getting out of this alive, and that it was her descisions that ultimately doomed them to this fate. so she literally let him go, shoved him out of her life, content with him to live his however he chooses now that he's freed from the curse in a world which she didn't destroy. remember that her wish to "banish golb" wouldn't have saved her, she would have been digested in the golb dimension had she been successful.
i'd even go so far as to say that maybe betty's wish came in clutch even earlier than episode 8; if she can actually control golb and portals to the golb dimension, there's no way she would have granted him passage, as it would basically be suicide. so maybe that flash of golb's face during the initial ritual was her using her influence to redirect the spell to open the portal to the universe in his head? she doesn't want to see him because of what "seeing her" means, she doesn't want him to kill himself for her, and i think that's pretty fucking reasonable. now, however, it's the only way to save him, so she has finally, begrudgingly, granted him passage.
i have no idea how this whole thing is going to wrap up, but in the end i dont entirely agree with the sentiment that they need to 'let each other go', because they already did that to an extent. i think they need to talk to each other, work their existing issues out, and see where things unfold from there. but again, im probably just being sensitive and stupid about it.
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What’s your favorite thing about folklore?
oh my god what a question. I'm just gonna riff off the dome here because if i try to go at this in any kind of organized way, i'll write a deranged thesis paper. (this is about the album proper, sorry to the lakes. too bad she never released it and we'll never know what it sounded like)
Gut reaction to this question is just how complete it is. It's an idea and concept, a writing prompt if you will, compiled neatly and cohesively in a way that's the perfect digestible length for it's form (music/an album) and also all killer, no filler. All the vignettes are not a "story" (save for the love triangle which i largely ignore because it's shoehorned) but come off like an anthology; that is to say that they're a series of emotional vignettes across a range of life experiences, but explored through the motifs and styles of one writer. I cannot jump around with folklore, i must press play on the 1, which has never happened before with a taylor album. It has no skips, every single one flowing smoothly but efficiently with the ebb and flow pacing of a babbling brook. (i do skip mad woman occasionally cuz its not what i wanna hear at the moment or epiphany cuz it's too heavy and too soon to go back to that mental place, but they're both excellent and fit perfectly within the album when i'm casually listening)
The sound is also just so perfectly aligned with my tastes. I contain multitudes, but unfortunately one of those is being a sad indie white girl lol. I love soft rubber bridge guitars, and whining violins and piano and minimal but expertly layered textures. atmospheric ones that carry the mood and the fill the space like fog but let you feel close to the artist, as i've said once before, as if she were sitting next to you and talking directly to you. There's a lushness to live instruments played softly and as pieces of a whole, and it makes any additions from a moog softened and supplementary. It just, for me anyway, really helps to hear the tactile nature of the instruments and mistakes and the breaths and the pedals on the piano and all the rest. it's the perfect mix of what i love musically from that genre, akin to Sujfan or Lucy/Phoebe or imogen heap or the xx or lana at times. even as way back and like dashboard, which shows my age a bit. you know the vibes. And i love how jack leaned into his more orchestral side, which he doesn't often do with taylor, still to this day. august in particular is just outstanding and he's great at stuff like that and i wish they would do more like that together!
I think its the PERFECT use of her voice. it's not blasphemous to say of all her artistic talents, she does not have a voice that can stack up against her peers vocally. But, as i've also said a million times before so sorry to bring it up again, she has a very emotive voice when it comes to the tiniest and most nuanced of emotions. maybe because she's less focused on vocal runs or hitting notes, but this album has her voice really shine. it's textured and rough and soft and smooth at the same time, fully bringing you whatever raw emotion is on the page. its the voice of a scribbled journal entry if that makes sense, off the cuff, unpracticed (even though i'm sure it is), and so intimate. you can hear her smile and hear when her throat is thick, it's just a showcase of her voice like nothing else. the pared down sound really lets all those tiny moments rise to the surface.
visually, i mean what can i say. her second best album cover ever. Fully removing herself from the center of it, diminishing herself with the trees for scale. Trees that have existed before her and will outlive her, as if to say this, the act of making art and ultimately the art itself, is so much bigger than me. my life and my problems. but everything is bigger than me, and it's important to not lose sight of that. which, if you were an adult at that time, particularly of a similar age to her at least, you commiserate with that sentiment. the black and white isn't actually black, but more of a warm gray, which i also love. i also know it was mainly out of necessity, but embracing how dressed down and simple her styling was. wrinkled dresses and limp, unruly hair. really suited the look of someone who's going to spin you a tale. NO TEXT TOO LIKE YEAHHHHHHHH god it's perfect and so well designed.
rapid fire now, lets see. i love that peace was done in one take, and you can tell, in a good way! and it's her HEARTBEAT???? i'm a sucker for that, no matter how played out that trick is, and imo it's justified because they disguise it with a dissonant tone of sorts. i love the PERFECT knee jerk answer opening of "i'm doing good" and then proceeding to delve into some of her darkest emotions she'd explored thus far (and in some ways since). i love that illicit affairs is missing it's final chorus, a song that is structurally unfinished and just peters out, the way doomed affairs always do. the way she never mentions the location or even the event, but the soundscape and the lyrics of my tears ricochet paint a perfectly clear church and funeral in your mind!! i love the word ricochet and i love how easy it is to spew it with vitriol. as corny as it is in the context of the rest of this more subtle album lyrically, i love the swiftian turn in the bridge of tlgad like.... damnit it's always so delicious. that harmonica in betty is just like a glass of sweet tea on a muggy summer night, it's SO bright and fun and puts a smile on my face every time!
But all that to say I think my favorite thing is seven. seven is a perfect song. her best song. the best version of a taylor swift song. a song so emotionally poignant and transcendent it wins over, however begrudgingly, even the biggest haters of her and indie music as it pokes at that one spot that will always be soft, and it's blank space's spiritual successor and therefore foil in that way. incredible feat to use the motif of your childhood self and not come off trite, like most other attempts by other artists can be. the most opaque she's ever been lyrically, which is a huge risk to take. small in scale but massive in it's implications and intentions. a song where the meaning and gravity exist in your reaction to it and not the song itself. perfect art. an opus of a song on an opus of an album.
#it's after midnight so my brain is turning into a pumpkin so sorry if this got mushy and nonsensical but#don't ask me about folklore and expect brevity#it's just EXCEPTIONAL#my silly little essays
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chapter four: sweet on the inside & outside
-- a ghostly love masterlist
The next day, we all sat in our usual circle in the gymnasium. Mr. Martin was talking to all of us as we passed the donut box around.
“There’s an old cider mill off Route 47, and my parents would toss us in the Dodge Coronet. We’d each get a bag of warm, greasy donuts. That was my idea of nirvana.” Mr. Martin says, thinking back to his memories as a kid.
I grabbed a glazed donut from the box before handing it to Wally who took it, making sure that he grazed his fingers over mine as he did so. He got a jelly donut out of the box and handed the box over to Rhonda.
“What’s that about?” She asks. He looked at her confused. “You always leave me the worst one.” Rhonda complains. I bring my hand up to my neck and rub the side of it. I don’t know why but she has gotten on my nerves ever since I met her.
“What do you mean? It’s lemon glazed.” Wally tells her.
“Nobody wants a lemon donut.” Rhonda remarks.
I mean she was right about that.
“Guys, the subject is nirvana.” Mr. Martin says.
“No, the subject is entitlement.” Rhonda retorts.
“Oh, okay. I’m entitled because I like anything filled with jelly.” Wally sighs. “It’s not my fault I like things with sweet stuff inside of it.” Wally then adds, looking over at me and giving me a wink.
“Oh my god.” I say, shocked at his constant boldness, especially in front of the others.
“Ew. Just ew.” Rhonda says. “I don’t even want that anymore. That’s gross.” She says.
“Guys, the subject is nirvana.” Mr. Martin repeats.
“Excuse me, can I be excused? I just want to eat my donut in peace.” Wally says.
“More entitlement.” Rhonda puts her hand up in disbelief.
“It’s not entitlement, Rhonda. Okay? It’s about- it’s about digestion.” Wally tells her.
I can’t hold back my laugh. Wally looks over to me and smiles after hearing my laugh.
“Oh, Lucia. I’ve just been reminded. I have a homework assignment for you.” Mr. Martin tells me.
I blink a few times, “Homework?” I ask.
“Well, kind of. I want you to write your obituary. Everyone here has done it already.” He says.
“I…” I trail off. I sigh. “Okay.” I shrug. I didn’t have the energy to complain right now.
There’s a sudden weird sound and I looked over to see Wally slurping the jelly out of the donut. “Oh, my god.” He says. enjoying the jelly.
“Um… I’ll just.. start that now actually.” I say.
“Yeah.” Mr. Martin says, agreeing with me.
<3
I then spent the next day writing my obituary. Even if the last few months, or well, years of my life hadn’t been that great, there were some core memories that I had. I guess writing it out was nice. I found Mr. Martin in the hallway after I’d finished so that I could give it to him.
“Mr. Martin.” I say and he looks over. “I finished my obituary.” I told him.
“Wow, thank you.” He says as he takes the papers from me.
“You’re welcome.” I softly say.
“How did it feel? Writing all of that out.” Mr. Martin asked.
“It felt… nice.” I admit.
“Good.” He smiles.
There’s a few moments of awkward silence. “Well… see you.” I say and he just nods before I turn around and walk away.
<3
I sit on the bleachers in the pool room with Charley as Rhonda sits on the edge of the pool and Wally sits in a float in the water, wearing only some swim trunks and sunglasses. Charley was applying some of Rhonda’s sunscreen to his arms. Why? I don’t know, there was really no point. But, you do you, I guess.
“Uh, easy with the coppertone, hun.” Rhonda comments.
“Yeah, that bottle’s got to last her another 60 years.” Wally says.
I watch as she kicks her foot in the water, splashing some water at him, “Don’t be a cube.” She says.
I giggle at what she’d said. Yeah, she was definitely from the ‘60s. She looks over at me with a scowl on her face.
“I- I’m sorry.” I say, not really meaning it. “It’s just.. nothing. It’s nothing.” I say.
“You are such a bug.” She says.
I twirl a part of my hair with my finger, “Alright.” I dismissively say.
“I love this smell.” Charley says, rather loudly, trying to get us to stop. “Coconut, verbena. You can be anywhere; Miami, Aruba.” He tells us. “I miss a good sunburn.” He says.
“I miss pussy.” Wally says and everyone looks over at him. “What? I thought we were talking about stuff that we missed.” He tells us.
I cover my face with my hands. I can’t.
<3
“So, how have you been adjusting to the life of the undead?” Wally asks as we sit on the bleachers. It was nighttime and so it was quite pretty with all the stars and all.
“The life of the undead?” I ask, giggling at the way he phrased it. Wally smiled after hearing me laugh. “Um, yeah. It’s… actually not been that bad. I think it’s actually better than things were when I was alive.” I say.
“Really?” He asks and I nod. “Why? Cause I’m here now?” Wally asks, smirking at me.
“No.” I partially lied. I mean, honestly, I wouldn’t admit it to him just yet, but… I was glad that I met him, even if we were ghosts and even if he was constantly making inappropriate jokes.
“I’ll change your mind, don’t worry.” He says.
“Oh, really? And how exactly are you going to do that?” I ask.
He looks down at my lap before looking into my eyes again, “Well, I have a couple of ideas.” He teases.
I gently push his chest, “You’re a little too bold.” I say.
“Nothing wrong with that.” Wally shrugs.
“When it comes to you.. there is.” I tease back.
“I can’t help it when you look like that in your uniform.” Wally tells me.
“So, if I wasn’t wearing this then you wouldn’t be like this?” I ask.
“Nah, you’d be fine either way.” Wally says.
Was it so wrong that even if his boldness was a lot, that I liked it?
#manheeiim#milo manheim#milo#milo manheim x reader#milo x reader#wally clark#wally clark x reader#wally clark x oc#wally x reader#wally clark imagine#wally clark fanfiction#school spirits#school spirits imagine#school spirits fanfiction
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It is June, in case you didn't notice, and June is Pride Month. This one has a darker tone than last years because the world is lashing out at our queer friends and that is awful. I don't tend to speak in absolutes very often because I am of the belief that the internet is a machine that is designed to strip everything of context and nuance and boil things down to worthless, easily digestible little bites, but I will speak in absolutes here. If you have a problem with anyone on the LGBTQ+ spectrum because they are LGBTQ+ you are a bad person. It is not a problem with them, it is a problem with you, and you can go straight to hell. I don't care what your reasons are because what you take issue with is an immutable characteristic of a person, it is who they are thus you are awful. I don't think I'll get a lot of blow back here because this is tumblr but I just want to make that clear. And I know about the only community that will take issue with this that has any sort of purchase on tumblr are the TERFs so I want to be 100% clear I mean you too, you hateful fuckheads. I will stand by the trans people on this site and elsewhere and I promise you I am more than willing to die on that hill. There are a lot of ideas and thoughts I will entertain and engage with you on but I will not tolerate or even discuss the degradation, dehumanization, and intimidation of my friends. So because this is Pride I thought why not do some posts for my queer friends. People who are important to me who need to know they are loved and valued. Thus I am starting with my friend Kat, who has to my knowledge been lucky and not faced a ton of blowback in her life based on her sexuality. Still, there are forces in the world that want her to know they think she is less than so it is important to provide a voice that says the opposite. I don’t think her gayness is acceptable, or passable, or something I am fine with, I think it is a fantastic part of her. Is it all she is? Of course not. But it is something she is and makes up a part of the whole that is Kat and it is a thing she has always been and thus is inseparable from the being that is Kat and Kat is wonderful, so it is a part of her I love because she wouldn’t be her without it. So I am posting Jessica Nigri because @kat-eleven luuuuuuuuuuuvs Jessica Nigri. She sorta tries to deny it sometimes but here is the true history of Kat and Jessica Nigri. She once told me she wasn't that into Jessica Nigri, Jessica Nigri didn't really do it for her. She told me this quite a few times which is a weird thing to keep bringing up but is actually a thing a lot of people do with their crushes. Then a pattern emerged where she would send me a reblog of mine and go, "Whoa, this girl is super hot". I would then inform her that said hot person was Jessica Nigri, who Kat claimed to not be into. This kept happening again and again until finally Kat admitted that Jessica Nigri dressed as Tracer was one of her favorite things ever. So I have included that pic in here. As well as one where Jessica Nigri is cosplaying as a male character because the other thing I noticed is all the times Kat would note, "Wow, she looks so good here," it was when Jessica Nigri was cosplaying as a male character. Because she is really into it when Jessica Nigri looks like a boy, so I made sure there is one here where she looks just like a boy and to steal a friend's joke, I will say, "And what a boy. Look at the size of those pecs!" So there you go, happy pride, today I want to fuck Jessica Nigri.
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Hera
Goddess of marriage, women, family, childbirth, the sky, heaven.
Queen of the Gods.
Marriage is supposed to be an unexplainable bond. Passion, sacrifice, trust, love. It blinds you, it changes you, it makes you whole.That’s what she always believed.
Her mother always told her stories of her and father on their adventures, how striking he was, how different he was from the other lords just trying to get her for their own political gain, how romantic he is. She always giggled along while her brothers scrunched their noses up in disgust.
If she pestered him enough, even father would spout a few lines on mother’s beauty. The dead serious, second son of The Tower would happen to blush when mother winked at him during dinners.
Love seemed perfect then. She dreamed that someday she too may find it. Easy, spellbinding, encapsulating, love. Gorgeous, ethereal, wistful love. Love, love, love.
Her mother wasn’t the only thing that died that night. Her father’s happiness, smiles and all sense of family seemed to disappear in the stars of the heavens. He distanced himself, would never talk about anything other than the duties he has as Hand of the King.
Duties.
A strange phenomenon. Something that had to be done. To run the kingdom. To keep stability over the land. Rhaenyra often talked of it. How she was to change the rules and give people as less duty as possible. She laughed at the time. The idea sounded delightful.
As she matured, the ways the world worked were shocking. Some disgusting, frightening, too much. Some more enchanting, charming. Rhaenyra seemed immune to it in a way, she often talked about how it's necessary to see the reality of things if one is to be queen. She seemed so confident, powerful, royal.
When her father announced his plans for her, she wanted to scream her lungs out of breath till death took her from the misery. She wanted to bite and scrape at herself till she remained just flesh. But she bit her tongue as the women have had to for centuries before and will have to in the centuries to come. A nod. She exited the chambers.
“Why?” was the only thing that came to mind as she walked back to her rooms. For political power? To have his blood on the throne? On the poison that commands the city? Mother always talked about how her father was different. Did her mother lie to her as well.
Viserys was tough, difficult and hurtful. But he was the king and she was his queen. His second queen.
Because he murdered his beloved on the childbed. During such pain, anguish and discomfort, he let her be killed. The child could never survive. Rhaenyra was left motherless and she was put to the torture. What good came of it, only the Gods may ever figure.
She prayed and prayed to the Seven. To be with her mother. To know how to battle queenship. Yet they never answered. Why? Why must they too leave her at this moment? Why must they take her mother away from her? Why must they strip her of her modesty, innocence, pride and everything she ever held dear.
Childbirth was everything she feared and more. The thought always plagued her head. They can kill her at any moment. The King of course can find another wife, perhaps the Lady Laena, to satisfy his cousins. Her father would be disappointed, disgusted that she let herself submit to death like this. Rhaenyra wouldn’t care. She’ll move on. She shouldn’t waste her time worrying about the death of her treacherous step-mother.
But she survived it all. Four times over. No one cared to congratulate her. Why should they? They had their heir, they had their first son of the house. Why care about the hours she took to bring him into this world. It's a lesson that was too hard to digest at first. People will not care for you but only for your impact. Only that will cement you in history. Only that will give your life meaning.
Rhaenyra was right in that aspect, she supposed. It's necessary to see the reality of things if one is to be queen. Queen. A Hightower Queen. Laughable.
Yet she sat the wretched throne more times than she could be capable of remembering now. She took care of all the bloody matters of state, the fucking kingdom with a king rotting away in his bed.
She understood why her father had done this. To some extent. But she was tired.
The hypocrisies the kingdom expected of her, the standards her own extended family put on her, the turmoil her children put her through. It could never be enough.
To say she cared for her children would make the court jester laugh at your simplicity. She was their mother. The only figure they looked to for guidance, the person who carried them, the person who had to shape each and every aspect of them. Alone. Because even the Gods had lost faith for her at that point. But oh. It was the only love she could bear to let herself dream about. It was gorgeous, enchanting and wistful. It was angry, frightening and dangerous. It was love in its purest form. A paradox.
She had put in enough effort to go through with this marriage. The childbirths, the motherhood, the love, the pain, this family. Her family. The family she let herself build through all the torture their father subjected them all to. She was not going to let her efforts be forgotten so easily. How could she? If anything, Alicent Hightower was going to make sure that the books of history remember her name as more than just King Viserys’s second wife. Her family’s right to the throne cannot be robbed as easily as her youth was from her.
War was inevitable.
"The beacon on the High Tower. Do you know what color it glows when Old Town calls its banners to war?"
#house of the dragon#alicent hightower#pt.3#hera#[ • 'house of the dragon' characters as the twelve olympians • ]
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