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kneelingshadowsalome · 6 months

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Ok but what if I had to continue this story about Knight!Ghost and Presumptuous maiden!reader

She can still feel his breath on her, but the huge body pinning her to the wall ceases to move.

"...What?"

It’s pure shock.

She’s dropped so quickly she has to take support from the stones behind her.

She wouldn’t have to: Simon grabs her by the arm and prevents her from falling forward and back towards that plated chest. His eyes search for hers, and she looks up at the knight who almost raped her – in the corridor of all places like she’s nothing but a common whore. But for the first time ever there’s genuine shock, even fear in his stare. The remnants of lust flicker back alive every now and then, but mostly he looks like she just hurled a powerful curse at him when she told him she’s a virgin.

"I'm sorry,” she tries. “I’ll–I’ll never do it again. I promise."

"Bloody fucking…"

He looks her up and down, the leather straps of his armour wailing from his still heaving chest. She should bolt, now, when Simon has taken a step away from her and is clearly puzzled and confused. But she can’t: those eyes rise to hold her captive again. And now, there’s anger in them.

"You should be whipped."

"For what...?"

Her chest is heaving, too. She never knew how low her voice could get when there's want in the air and in her veins.

"You attacked me, sir. I should have you whipped," she continues like an absolute fool.

"Don't test me, girl," he slurs behind bared teeth. She finally remembers how to shut up.

"Tsk."

Simon nudges his head towards the stairway leading to her quarters. Get out while you can, the gesture says, and she gathers the hem of her heavy woollen dress and flees.

She never believed her miserable begging would stop or sway him. Simon is bound by oath and honour, or then he doesn’t want his master’s wrath upon him. Her worth is between her legs; they both know it. Defiling the king’s daughter could lose him his head.

She climbs the stairs, slips into her room and bolts the door. It should probably be strange that she’s left aching by what just happened. It should make her wake up from her silly dreams, that the only thing stopping this man from raping her is other men, not her feelings and sensibilities.

It should be considered a doom, not fate, that she only wants him more.

…

Simon never participates in the tournaments, but this time, rumour has it that he’s planning to join.

In a distressed hurry, she makes preparations for the great day. There can be no other reason for him to joust other than the wish to win her favour back. His actions speak louder than any words, and just for the sake of that, she has kept her promise. She walks the halls as if the knight called Simon never even existed. She won’t look his way even when he has his back turned on her. She only dreams about him when the moon is full and there are no more candles burning in her lonely room.

But it’s hard.

It’s difficult, and it’s a horrible fate she has to suffer, because now it’s he who can’t keep his eyes off her. Now it’s Simon who has suddenly caught her scent, who is suddenly interested in dangerous, stupid sports such as jousting that could injure or kill a man. But he’s willing to do the thing he apparently hates most – along with the fevered attention of insufferable, flirtatious maidens – because he needs a token of her favour. She’s sure of it: that’s why she embroiders a tiny ‘S’ on her finest, most precious handkerchief.

The tournament day is as beautiful as can be. Her heart is about to rend itself out of her chest when Simon approaches her, riding across the field in his heaviest grey armour. He’s surrendering himself at her mercy, and at the mercy of other people’s ridicule, rumour and gossip by making it known that he thinks himself worthy of her blessing. She wonders if she’s the one being played now: she can’t decipher why he would refuse her one day, then fight to gain her favour the next.

He accepts her silken handkerchief with a blank expression, but his eyes betray the inner turmoil when he sees the embroidery. A plain, simple token would have sufficed – the adorned ‘S’ is a bit too much, it's a clear sign. It’s ten times more clear than her earlier games, ten times more blaring than her vivacious little flirt. She could've embroidered the sentence “If you come up to my room at nightfall, I will let you in,” on it and the meaning would've been just as obvious.

He tucks it under his breastplate and gives her a sideways look that is filled with both distaste and longing. Only Simon can speak entire sentences through his eyes. They say, “You’ve gone too far,” and “If I come out of this alive, you’ll get whipped, or fucked, or both.”

And one thing she never knew about Simon was that he could joust better than anyone. There’s one dead, three wounded and five humiliated by the time Simon is declared the winner of the tournament. Everyone understands now why he never joins these things: he will only rob the fun of other knights by toying with them.

Her chosen one accepts the king’s words and the crowd’s applause with a stern but slightly painful expression. Simon would rather be anywhere but here, but endures being the centre of attention for the rest of the afternoon like a good, patient dog. Then he disappears somewhere, done with being the sudden pet of the people. The next time she sees him is in the morning as she descends the stairs.

“Fawn.”

She flinches from the now familiar dark voice. He’s been waiting for her, and almost prowls forth from the shadows when she’s floating down the steps. There’s a good few feet between them, but she can feel the heat emanating from him. Simon is always blazing like the sun, and he's always tired, downright exhausted, encumbered by pain or something worse.

“Do you always forget your promises so quickly?”

She corrects her posture under his tall shadow; she should’ve known there would be consequences for that handkerchief.

"What crime have I committed now?"

Simon never expects it when she fights back. Long, pale lashes cover the brief bafflement in his eyes, then he reaches for something under his tunic. Her heart skips a beat – he has kept it against his skin, right over his heart, instead of under the plate where he tucked it at the joust.

"This belongs to you," he holds it between them like it’s nothing but a piece of dirty cotton he wants to get rid of. Or then he doesn’t want to stain it with his hands – who knows? This man is so full of contradictions she’s having a hard time getting to the bottom of his soul. She has all the time in the world to study different characters here in the castle, but Simon remains a tightly locked mystery.

"No,” she lifts her chin proudly. “It belongs to you."

His nostrils flare for a moment – a sign of anger or exhilaration; you’d need a powerful witch to tell.

“A knight should return the lady’s favour if he survives the joust,” he mutters, clearly trying to make an effort to speak finely to a fine lady.

“You don’t have to. I made it for you.”

He grunts with frustration, then shoves her gift back inside his tunic. Then he tilts his head. A strange, dark little smile rises on his lips.

"Fawn. Did your father ever beat you?"

It’s only morning, but Simon makes it feel like they’re having this conversation in the cold, damp dungeons. Her heart shudders at the foul words, and yet, she fights to maintain eye contact. She fights both tooth and nail to look straight into the abyss.

"No."

"I can tell."

Insolent bastard, is her first thought at such audacity, but two can play this game, is the second. She takes a slow step forward and rejoices silently when Simon struggles to remain still.

"If I was your wife…" she starts softly, "Would you beat me?"

His nostrils flare again as he looks for a trap where there is none. She’s standing before him without any shields, with no weapons, and he still can’t tell, the poor man.

"I don't beat women," he finally spits. Then he succumbs to the impulse to get away from her, although it looks like he’s struggling to do so, too. He has to wrench himself free, and it gives her more power to rise rooted: to meet his crude manners, the arrogance of a dog.

"You'd never be my wife," is the last thing he says, so quietly that it’s nothing but a mutter; a sullen whisper. The birds have fallen silent, or then she can’t hear them anymore. The golden light that pours from the narrow windows makes it suddenly seem like this morning could last an eternity.

"Why not?" She whispers back.

The moment shatters – her knight escapes like he’s the fragile little fawn now. The clatter of his armour makes it known how much of a hurry he’s in to get away from the golden light... And from her.

#not so dark as the first one but still kinda dark #medieval au #knight!ghost #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader

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lovesickfoolwp · 2 years

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i'm right here — conrad fisher

pairing : conrad fisher x fem!reader

summary : you can't say you that don't love your mother, but, one night her victim complex took over and she started a whole fight with you. so, you messaged conrad and asked him to come urgently to get you out of there. you felt like you were suffocating in the house, but little did you know that the suffocating feeling would've still be following you. lucky, conrad was right there with you.

warnings : mommy issues, anxiety, anxiety attack

"you never try to understand when i tell you to do something useful for this family!" your mother's voice could be heard in the background and her words were directed at you, you just didn't know exactly why. because your mother, like any other mother, always found a reason to make a fuss.

but she had already been shouting for several minutes, hurling insults, and yet, you didn't say anything. you just wiped your tears with the palm of your hand, while you wrote a message to conrad, who was your boyfriend for a long time and knew about the situation at your home.

hey, do you think you can come to pick me up real quick?

you were on top of your bed with the door closed, but your mom slammed the door against the wall and started yelling at you from the doorway. "are you even listening to me?"

you hurried to close your phone screen and look up at her. "yeah." was the only word that managed to roll off your lips.

she was not a fool. she saw you with the phone in your hand. so she rolled her eyes and gave you a fake laugh, dramatically even, as she walked out the door and continued her reproval.

your phone buzzed two times in your hand and you quickly looked to see the answer, while holding your breath.

i'm already on my way.

i'll get to you in less than a minute.

at the sight of the texts, you allowed yourself to smile to yourself, at least for a second. then you replied with "OK" and hurried to the door, hoping not to run into your mother.

unfortunately, when you put your hand on the doorknob, you heard a loud voice, her voice, behind you.

"where do you think you're going, young lady?" you turn a few degrees, at the point when you can look at her, and you noticed her positioning herself with her hands on her hips. "i'm not done talking!"

"um, i—," you wanted to say something. anything. you really wanted to. but conrad's car horn got you ahead.

your mother walked past you, pushing you aside and looked through the visor. "is that conrad?"

"yeah."

she moved away from the door and looked at you, dominating you. "and where do you think you are going without my permission?"

"i need a break.” you said in a barely audible tone, but oh, she clearly heard you.

"a break?" she repeated after you and laughed sarcastically. "now i'm such a burden that you need a break away from me?"

you were quick to explain yourself "that's not it—", but the door opened. seeing how long it takes you to get out, conrad understood that something happened and decided to take him the first step.

a stone was taken off from your heart when you saw him, and he, looking first at you and then at your mother, realized that he was right. something had indeed happened.

"ms y/l/n, do you think you can let y/n stay at my place tonight?" he asked your mother, trying to be as calm as possible. he knew that your mother loved you, but he could not easily overlook the way the woman treats you sometimes. "i promised my mother that y/n would accompany us tomorrow to the conference where she would attend, and she insisted on y/n coming early, so she could be having lunch with us and sleeping overnight because we were leaving in the morning."

he couldn't be a more perfect boyfriend. he always takes his time, and leaves his pride away, to explain certain things to your mother in detail. he didn't want to cause you more problems.

being also charmed by how well was conrad raised, when he wanted to show that, your mother didn't stay long to think and agreed. so in no time you were in conrad's car. you set off, but he wasn't going to keep his word.

when you noticed he missed the turn to his house, you asked him "what about the conference you were talking about?"

"there's no conference." he answered you and immediately, taking advantage of the red traffic light, he looked in your direction to see your confused reaction. "I had to have a plausible excuse."

when the red light turned green again, conrad took advantage of the fact that it was late and the road was freer than usual, starting up the car and accelerating the speed.

"so... if there's no conference, where are we going?" you asked him, playing with your fingers to get rid of the feeling of anxiety eating you from inside.

"you'll see," he said stopping the car and looking at you again. he put his hand, which until recently was on the gear box, over your left hand and smiled at you, trying to calm you down. he had noticed that you were playing with your fingers. watching you. "but don't worry. i actually talked to mom and you will be staying over tonight. now," he reached for the door on his side, still holding your hand. "let's go."

he placed a short kiss on your hand and after he got out of the car first, he went around the car and came to your side, he opened the door, holding out his hand to you.

"you're putting on such a show." you said, taking his hand and giving him permission to help you get out of the car, and jokingly rolling your eyes.

"only for you." he said in a serious tone and then laughed lightly. he wasn't the type to say romantic things, but he made an effort for you. he knew that you adored them.

despite the fact that you were on the pontoon, looking at the sea and the sky above you, and he was acting as wonderful as before, maybe even more wonderful if that was possible, the feeling of anxiety had not left you. your mind was against you that day and it sabotaged you by replaying the argument you had earlier with your mother.

conrad was talking next to you, trying to lift your mood, but you couldn't hear him. you looked towards him, but you only saw him moving his lips, while a feeling of insecurity suddenly took hold of you. you wanted to keep the feeling in check. to be strong and stand up to it. but when you remembered that during your fight with your mother, she threatened you that if you didn't start doing what she says you to do, she would be forced to separate you from conrad.

at that moment, the fear of losing him took total control over your body and you started to feel your lungs emptying of air. you tried to inhale, but it was impossible for you.

"y/n!" conrad called out your name, and this time you heard him, putting his hands on your shoulders, forcing you to look at him. "y/n, look at me!" he insisted.

you barely raised your eyes to him, connecting with his, as you tried to breathe.

you didn't show any signs that you can do it on your own. on the contrary, you had started to feel a warmth in your whole body, as if you were on fire, and to become softer in his arms. so he began to breathe in and out deeply, prompting you to do the same. "y/n! you are safe. you're with me. focus on my breathing and follow me."

you tried to do as he told you and you almost succeeded, but getting impatient, being too worried for you, he took his hands from your shoulders. putting one of them around your waist to keep you on your feet, while the other lifted your chin towards him, caressing your cheek with his thumb, he lightly connected his lips to yours. the kiss was a calm one, just trying to keep your mind occupied and waiting for your heartbeat to calm down.

after a few seconds, you pulled back from the kiss and he pressed his forehead to yours, listening carefully to see if you calmed down.

"what was that?" you asked him as your heartbeat stabilized and you started breathing regularly.

he smiled slightly and that's when you realized how close he was. "I guess that that was my new method of calming you down."

you smiled in return and gently wrapped your arms around his neck.

"i liked it."

he chuckled, pulling away from you, not before pressing a kiss to your forehead, saying "of course you did."

you pouted theatrically, laughing immediately afterwards and muttering under your breath, "asshole."

he laughed.

then he immediately turned to you, studying you carefully with his eyes, at which point you felt yourself melting. "what did you just called me?"

"i—" you tried to think of a good lie, but you had noone, so you said quickly, laughing "i didn't called you anything!"

"hm." he made a sound, like an upset child. "are you sure about that?"

he gave you his typical look, looking you up and down, and you bit your tongue by mistake.

you nodded, and he started tickling you so hard, wanting to hear you laugh again. between your laughs and your weak attempts to push him aside, he was preoccupied with enjoying the way your face lit up.

he was madly in love with you.

#tsitp #the summer i turned pretty #tsitp fanfic #tsitp imagine #tsitp x reader #conrad fisher #conrad fisher x reader #conrad fisher x y/n #conrad fisher fluff #team conrad #the summer i turned pretty imagine

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skyler10fic · 3 years

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AoS rewatch

At the very tail end of s4:

I wasn't going to liveblog this episode but ...

Ok I forgot the return of Robbie ends with him doing a Doctor Strange portal!

And the foreshadowing with Coulson knowing he's dying. :( I'm glad they brought Robbie back for that and think there's room for a miniseries or movie about him.

Daisy's closure in forgiving Fitz! That's a leader speech right there. And fitting after everything he has done to support her after she got her powers.

And a fitting and poetic end for Radcliffe.

THE DINER AHHHHH I always forget that they are expecting to be arrested because they are "paying the price together" for the Daisybot shooting Talbot etc. etc.

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

On to s5!

Best cold open for a season!

Oh no, not a tall rock! These monoliths are to AoS as infinity stones are to the MCU. How does Virgil even recognize Coulson?

"first of all, I'm not inspector gadget" ok but you totally are haha

"This isn't new for me, I've been hurled through space by a monolith before"

"SHIELD doesn't have a space division called SPEAR or something??" Wonder if this is the origin of SWORD?

Mack whines now but at least he's not MAY my god this woman is a superhero and anyone who says otherwise can fight me and by me I mean her. That was pretty cruel to have her arrive AROUnd a PIpE?!

Daisy right on time!!

oh yay Deke who we won't be rid of until the end. Three more seasons of Deke *insert birthday Ezma gif

I admit he was better in this one where he was the one who knew what's up, all his tech. It's the goofy doofy puppy that grates on me later

It seems like it would be fairly easy to just spit out a cloth in your mouth

Yoyo is smart to suggest it's a simulation considering their last DAY or two in their timeline. For us, it was a year when it aired, but for them it was like, hours! I do love the group reaction of OH GOD NO don't even GO there. haha "My brain will explode" haha

"This has to be the coolest we've ever looked" they say creeping through the space station very much looking like they are scared teens in a horror movie.

Simmons is definitely the brain of this operation. She's always solving the puzzle.

They aren't here for a good time, they're here for a Kree time :(

The writers do a good job of limiting everyone in their powers: immediately debilitating May, Coulson has his civvy hand he was planning on getting arrested with, Yoyo snaps back to where she started if she runs with her powers, Daisy's denied access to the computer systems because it doesn't recognize her as Kree enough, Jemma doesn't have any lab or tools but her mind.

"We just wanted pie" awww

Daisy making calls and even giving Coulson the plan and coming to the rescue!

Good thing most flying things are designed similarly enough that May can fly anything.

The foreshadowing on Yoyo and her arms :(((

No reason to send a message to Earth; it's been blown up a loooong time.

"Well, I'm a biologist, but I can invent time travel, sure, just give me a minute." hahaha

"They do whatever they want, it's like herding rats" haha TRUE

"who would put a shark inside a tornado?" "they wouldn't, it's just a movie" haha

Deke, she just said goodbye to a crush with a devil inside giving him powers and before that her superpowered boyfriend died for her and to save the world, so the bar is higher than you can reach, buddy.

Gold stars for Daisy, not only tracking him and recognizing a virtual opium den when she sees one but also immediately knowing it's the Framework.

SO intense when he explains to her that she's the one who quaked the planet, not the Kree.

Jemma is so interesting because she can be put in these scenarios on the inside of enemy territory because she had no powers to just attack them but has to be clever to save herself, and they simultaneously see her value in keeping her close and consistently underestimate her.

#aos #aos rewatch #aos spoilers #agents of shield

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teenagegothintegrity · 4 years

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i've been listening to the horror and the wild for a solid week now and it's time for some Thoughts and by Thoughts i mean my favorite lyrics in each song

the rock rose and the thistle:

ok first off. the parallels of "i know the kindest thing is to leave you alone" and "i know the kindest thing is to never leave you alone"

"ill darn you back together/when you think that you're bereft/and you'll wail, you'll scream, but i'll never stop/cos it's all that i have left"

"i find you with a thimble weeping/may i, i ask, may i?/and you gently gift it to me/cos you've no clue how to sew/and i know the kindest thing/i pray to god it's the kindest thing/i know the kindest thing/is to never leave you alone" just. wow. the feeling of wanting to help but being fearful of your efforts being rejected?? i've seen another post talking about it and. yeah

this song makes me feel that kind of helplessness of trying to help someone and not rly knowing how, but also like. the quiet closeness of struggling together

the horror and the wild:

LORD THE ENERGY IS JUST. *CHEFS KISS*

"we're drunk but drinking/sunk but sinking/they thought us blind/we were just blinking"

"remember me i ask/remember me i sing/GIVE ME BACK MY HEART YOU WINGLESS THING" GOD I LOVE THIS PART I HAVE ACTUALLY THOUGHT ABOUT GETTING IT TATTOOED

THE FUCKING. CHORUS. THEIR VOICES AND THE WAY THEY MESH. THE BEAT OF IT. ESPECIALLY THE LAST TIME.

"that i might understand how i was/could be/will be/still am/by god still am"

"welcome to the storm/i am thunder/welcome to my table/bring your hunger"

the build up of the remember mes compared to the sudden quiet of "remember me i ask/remember me i sing" and then BAM BACK INTO IT

wild blue yonder:

ok first of all i just love how so many of their songs are a conversation

also love focusing on joey's parts and madeleine's parts in turn and having like. different feelings on each listen

just. that whole first bit of the first verse.

"without you i'm stronger/i'm no longer filled with wonder/you. you told me i was younger/that i was filled with wonder/how wrong you were"

i love. madeleine's "halt!"

JOEY IN THE CHORUS AAAAAAAAA

"every stone you threw/i stood on to better see the view"

"i'm lost/i'm found/in you" JESUS I JUST. AAAAAAA

"HIIIIIDE UNDER THE COVERS/WE DONT KNOW WHAT'S OUT THERE/COULD BE GHOSTS OR MONSTERS OR A ROBOT VAMPIRE/I DUNNO"

this song makes me think of spending hours just laying in bed with my datemate and talking all day long

im soft

welly boots:

this song. makes me feel things. makes me think of my baby sister

"don't you know that i'll be with you all long/as long as you are kind to those who are not strong and cannot find their scarlet welly boots"

"you were supposed to be my light/and keep me safe against them all/how could you leave me here" uhhh ow

"just when you're about to give up every bit of hope you have/you turn around/perched by the stairs/someone's gone and left behind/a brand new pair of scarlet welly boots"

farewell wanderlust:

miss madeleine serving me my gay ass on a platter with those opening notes oof.. what's sexier than that vocal range

"i promise you i'll be better/i promise you i'll try/but like rubbing wine stains into rugs/it's my curse to try to make it right/and by trying make it worse"

"i'm the jesus of wishing to christ he'll come back" THE RAW POWER

"so long to the person you begged me to be/she's down/she's dead/instead what is left/but this old satin dress/and the mess that you left when you told me i wasn't right in the head"

"with a hoik of her bra/she waved to the bar/and slipped into the night"

"come devil come/she sang/call out my name/let's take this outside/cos we're one and the same"

"i promise you i'm not broken/i promise you there's more/more to come, more to reach for, more to hurl at the door" GOD I LOVE THIS

"THIS HERE IS NOT SINGING I'M JUST SCREAMING IN TUNE"

lord this song is raw as fuck

fair:

this fucking song. this song brings tears to my eyes every goddamn time i listen to it. sometimes i have to skip it because i'm not in a good frame of mind to hear it. i almost never skip songs. that's how powerful this bad boy is

right of the bat we have this raw ass set of lines:

"it's what my heart just yearns to say/in ways that can't be said/it's what my rotting bones will sing/when the rest of me is dead"

"today i somehow understand the reason i was born/cos outwardly he says i try so hard to make you laugh at me/and she, she does/she laughs as though she's not heard the joke ten thousand times before" GOD. PEAK ROMANCE.

the way joey's voice fucking. cracks on "how unreasonable" kills me every time

this next one is long but this entire part guts me

"i've seen enough, he says, i know exactly what i want/and it's this life we've created/inundated with the fated thought of you/and if you asked me to, if you asked me i would lose it all/like petals in a storm/cos darling i was born to press my head between your shoulder blades/at night when light is fading/just to let you know i'm old, waylaid, and feel like i am wading/into carpet burns and carousels/christ you'll be the death of me/and calm throughout his melodrama, she will turn and say/dear heart it's me, it's me/you don't have to pretend to be someone you're not"

"it's not fair cos you make me weep when i'm just trying to watch the office with my yogurt" god i feel this. after my datemate went back home (across the country) i almost cried in burlington coat factory because come on eileen came on and it reminded me of them

i already said this but seriously. the voice crack on "unreasonable" is enough to bring tears to my eyes every single fucking time

"how unfair, how unfair they'll sing as they dance across the darling rooftop wreck/he'll trip and she'll pretend not to have seen/burying her head in his chest and clinging to the moment/where have you been?/she'll whisper/i've waited oh so long for you to come/and as the stars above them hum and hear them/he'll turn to her and say/that's what she said" this whole part. annihilates me. what's better than being equal parts tender and dumb with the person you love??

i just. cannot get over how much this song makes me feel. i listened to it twice to write this and then a third time for good measure

unwanted animal:

once again i am handed my gay ass on a platter. madeleine's fucking. gorgeous whispery voice. jesus christ

"you try so loud to love me/but i cannot seem to hear"

"can't you hear it?/it can hear you/it wants me to/throw the plate at the wall" AND THE SWELL OF THE MUSIC LITERALLY LIKE. SUCKS THE AIR FROM MY LUNGS!!!

"and we fall into each other/the scratching grows so loud/because that unwanted animal/wants nothing more than to get out" THE RHYTHM OF IT. THE FEROCITY OF THE DELIVERY. JESUS.

"and you rip my ribcage open/and devour what's truly yours" i'm literally going to get this tattooed on my chest i'm not kidding. haven't figured out a design but it WILL happen

"i cry out to the lord/cos if we join our hands in prayer enough/to god i imagine it all starts to sound like applause" fucking. raw as hell

the fucking GROWL IN "on the wind it howls"

"BE GOOD TO ME I BEG OF HIM/BE GOOD BE GOOD BE GOOD BE GOOD BE GOOD BE GOOD"

JOEYS FUCKING. "no no not i" I AM GOING TO DIE RIGHT HERE AND NOW

AND AGAIN. MADELEINE'S VOICE. IM GAY.

marbles:

i said before how much i love the songs that are conversations, and this is my favorite of them

"i chipped my teeth on every joke you cracked"

"you couldn't lie then/and you sure as hell can't lie to me now"

"you stole the best years of my life/i'll give them back"

"your eyes aren't rivers there to weep/but a place for crows to rest their feet" godddd this makes me wanna grow old with the person i love

"the flat we rented was a palace for my queen/if by palace you mean the asbestos and beans from a tin and the gin that we brewed in the bathtub" cant wait to live in a shitty apartment with the love of my life

"oh if one more guy calls me darling then i swear to you and to god i will murder them all" i love this line cuz it really does feel like something said a million times after getting home from a shitty job and venting to your partner while flopped on the couch

this song is just so. personal and intimate and i love it so so much

"i'd sink to the floor/what's the point anymore/and you, you'd reply with a glint in your eye/saying i don't know, but i'm here, oh dear god, dear heart, don't cry"

"i've loved you for a hundred years/certainly fucking feels like it"

"rest my head at night content/knowing where my marbles went"

tip: i am so fucking soft

battle cries:

god ok so first off this song just has such a hopeful vibe to it. it makes me feel like. idk. life can be a bitch, but things get better and you find your place and your people and happiness will come

also once again. i love listening to each of their individual parts and feeling different emotions

i love the way their parts come together in ways like. "who died/who'll save you"

"i'm done with your dreams/they won't last/thirty winters will pass/you'll look back at the woman fifty year old you will be proud to have known" "cos that sun that beams down as my hands touch the grass/after summers of fasting i feel hunger at last/for the person fifteen year old me would be proud to have known"

THE PARALLELS OF "cos these plates they smash like waves" IN THIS AND IN UNWANTED ANIMAL.... IM FUCKING TERRIBLE AT ANALYSES AND DECIPHERING METAPHORS AND SHIT BUT IT GETS ME NONETHELESS

AND THE CALLBACK OF "the wine stains hide the tears" TO "like rubbing wine stains into rugs it's my curse to try to make it right and by trying make it worse"

"place your smile in mine" placed a dagger directly into my heart.. miss madeleine i'm love u

"we'd laugh at the ghosts of our fears/we were gods/we were kids"

"this isn't a break up, dear heart/it's a season finale" AAAAAAAAA

ok lets talk about the rest of this chorus

"but that breathing you hear/don't mistake it for sighs/don't you realize they're just battle cries?/and these lines aren't wrinkles dear heart/they're just dollops of paint on a new work of art/and as i walk away i know that i've been through the wars/but that creaking you hear in my bones is not pain, it's applause"

again im terrible at analyses and metaphors and all that but IM FEELING IT AND IT'S A LOT

"all it took to unearth in the dust and dirt/some rest and respite from the heat and the hurt/was taking the time now and then to ask how i am/and now at the end/at the end of all things/i'm not gonna scream, beat my chest at the wind/i'm doing fine"

the way he says "i'm doing fine" just. *chefs kiss*

it's almost 1am and i've been working on this since like 11:30 and i have to get up in like 6 hours, so that's all i've got for now.......... if you haven't already and are able.. pls buy this album. its a fucking masterpiece

#the amazing devil #the horror and the wild #joey batey #madeleine hyland #sorry this is so long rip #long post #ivy.txt #i rly should change that tag...#whatever im just gonna #vega.txt

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poeticsandaliens · 6 years

Note

Ok, I don't know how but now you gotta do a LOTR AU - 5 headcanons. Please and thank you.

Oh my god how am I going to do this you could have hit me with an easy universe like Pirates of the Caribbean or Inkheart. I cannot cover the entirety of Lord of the Rings in five headcanons, even if the Ocean’s 8 army makes for a perfect Fellowship.

At any rate, I’ve dug my heels in and decided to write this. I do NOT back down from a challenge.

Because I will never be over the fact that one woman manages to capture “leather goddess biker chick” and “ethereal elf queen” in the same lifetime, allow me to plug one of my favorite LOTR AUs that I read a few years ago, a brief, fucking hilarious look into the lives of Elves who stuck around here in the mortal world: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11143965/1/Lingerers

1. Deb walks for days, it seems, in the gnarled forests of Fangorn. She forgets the sunlight, the tickle of wind on the back of her neck, the taste of coming rain. She swats at blue dragonflies and pinching spiders. Every other moment, she feels eyes on her back, and swivels around to spy branches swaying and roots creaking. The trees here live and breathe, or so legends say. She is unaccustomed to this part of the country; her home lay with Rangers and the rocks of the North. But like every people in Middle Earth, she had heard the call to war. Unlike many, she had answered.

2. She has only a day in the plains of Rohan to bask in the blazing sun and swaying wheatgrass that makes her heart sting of home. Only a day, before hoofbeats shake the earth beneath her feet, and she looks up to a helmed man on a gleaming black horse, bearing the standard of Rohan.

The man stops and dismounts before her. “Who are you, and what is your purpose here?”

She could lie—she could be a traveling merchant, or a lost villager, although the fine Elven brooch pinned to her cloak precludes the latter fib. Something tells her this man could smell a lie. So she tells the truth and hopes he’s on her side.

“I am a Ranger, from the North. I’ve come to fight on behalf of Middle Earth. I offer allegiance to Gondor, should they be in need.”

“We are not Gondor, and our king is too sick in the mind to answer Gondor’s call.” The rider removes his helm, and Debbie shocked to find a towering woman, with the severe face of a long-time soldier and eyes that could burn a hole in her skull. “What is your name, Ranger?”

“Deb.” That’s all this woman needs to know.

“If you want to serve Middle Earth, you’ll ride with me. Welcome to the Riders of Rohan.” She mounts the gleaming horse and offers Deb a hand.

“And what is your name?” Deb asks from behind the woman, holding her leather breastplate.

“Lou.”

3. She rides into Helm’s Deep on the horse of a dead soldier, wearing the garb of a ranger and the red-plumed helm of the Rohirrim. Lou rides beside her. This is what allegiance means. They break the dawn, the bridge, the enemy ranks. They take back a city that Deb has never seen, but which she feels, when an Uruk hurls itself at Lou and she blocks the strike, is her own.

That night, Lou sits beside her on the empty ramparts. They have scavenged arrows from the bodies of their friends and enemies. They have burned their dead on pyres and wrapped their wounds. The half moon grins at them from an empty sky.

“You’ve been my companion since you met me,” Deb says matter-of-factly, keeping watch over the crumbling stronghold. “Why?”

Lou draws her knee to her chest and adjust the quiver of arrows strapped to her back. “I’d never met a Ranger before, but I always wondered how you could brave the wildlands alone. The Rohirrim moves as an army, and even alone, we do not move without our horses.”

Deb shrugs. “Practice and patience.”

“Is that what you’ll tell yourself when you leave?”

“How did you know I was leaving?”

“I saw you preparing your weapons and packing your things. You intend to go to Gondor.” Lou’s ice-blue eyes harden. “This is not a war anyone should fight alone.”

“I see.” Deb watches her breath rise into the cooling air. Her lips quirk into half a smile, as much as she can muster after the battle. “Are you implying that you want to come with me? For my safety?”

“Since I can’t stop you.”

“And what if I don’t want company?”

Deb is suddenly acutely aware of the way Lou’s lips move, the way her jaw clenches when presses a kiss to Deb’s dusty palm and says, “You will.”

4. Their encampment on the outskirts of the Pelennor leaves much to be desired. Lou has no desire to submit herself to the whims of another mad king, so they linger outside Gondor and wait—they’ve witnessed the armies of orcs marching for the city. They know a war is coming, and they know which side they’re on.

They roast a rabbit over an open fire, huddle together beneath a weathered quilt. Lou runs a smooth stone down the length of her blade, sharpening its edge. Deb watches sparks dance off of it. They say little, she and Lou. Something about the looming threat of death and orc teeth. Something about the comfort of a living body close by. Something about Lou.

“What will you do after this?” she asks.

Lou’s hand freezes on the blade. “I’ve not yet considered that. I won’t hang up my riding cloak and the helm of Rohan, so I don’t expect to marry. Perhaps I will train recruits. The Rohirrim will lose many brave men at the hands of Sauron’s armies.”

Deb purses her lips. “I presumed I would travel North.”

“The Blue Mountains?” Lou questions. Fire swims in her eyes.

Deb nods. “Yes. Now, though—I want to see Gondor rebuilt. I want to see the king restored. It will take time to recover from the war. Perhaps I’ll go to Rohan.”

“Come with me?” says Lou, almost inaudibly.

Deb realizes only now that her fingers have wound between the laces of Lou’s armor. She realizes only now, as Lou kisses her, and she falls into the grass, that should they return home, they would have to part. That their relationship extends beyond the war, or at least that it should.

5. Deb creeps uselessly about the Houses of Healing. She lingers too long in hallways, has nearly been barreled over on Gondor’s streets, by rickshaws shuttling the wounded from the Pelennor. These are not the battles she’s used to fighting. She’s a ranger, not a soldier.

Deb doesn’t know how to handle the dying. Every time a funeral pyre lights, a distant glow from the castle walls, she can’t help but wonder if Lou is burning with it. She decides firmly that if she never sees Lou again, she doesn’t want to know if her partner is dead or alive. She would much prefer imagining Lou going her solitary way than knowing—seeing—her dead at the hands of an orc.

“You look a fright,” murmurs a voice from her right. A pale, spritely woman sits on the edge of a cot. Her chest is wrapped tightly in gauze; she wears men’s trousers, and smeared with dust her face for a moment resembles Lou.

Deb looks down at her own armor, dirty and weathered. Her hands are sliced open; she’s aware that blood has soaked one of her sleeves, but the wounds are superficial. The healers have more important concerns than a flesh wound. Lifting her gaze, Deb takes a closer look at the woman in question. She’s familiar, and it only takes a moment, the flash of a memory, to recall her voice.

“M’lady.” Deb kneels.

The woman laughs, a bell-like thing incongruous with the rest of her. “Eowyn. Only Eowyn.”

Only Eowyn. Slayer of the Witch-king, Lady of Rohan.

“You seem lost,” Eowyn says weakly. “Are you looking for someone? Your comrade, perhaps?”

Deb’s eyebrows shoot up. “Comrade?”

“The Rohir soldier with whom you stowed away.” She smiles faintly. "You’ll find no judgement here. I wish I could tell you she was alive and well, but truly, I don’t know.”

Deb shakes her head. “I don’t want to.”

“I don’t fault you that. The price of glory is high.” Eowyn lies back down in the cot. “I am ordered to rest,” she murmurs, her eyes sinking shut already. “I hope you find her well.”

“As do I.”

#ocean's 8 #heist wives #debbie x lou #debbie ocean #lou miller #5 headcanons #LOTR AU #I don't know what the fuck just happened #but it did

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highgaarden · 7 years

Note

ok so bc I'm all like DON'T GIVE UP THE SUPERPOWERS wrt Caro rn I thought why not request a canon-compliant superhero non-AU for Caro where somewhere down the line she decides to ~use her powers for good~ and do the vigilante thing, mask and everything (no stupid impractical costume tho). Extra points if she and Bonnie form a whole Witch/Vampire superhero team. Klaus can read abt it in the paper and figure out it's Caro+Bonnie and be amused and be into it. ♥♥♥

i tried my best. also, i have no clue what’s going on in the originals, but from scraps i get an a very helpful explanation from my friend anne, i sort of got the gist of it, tried to work more of the plot into this, and then decided to just… not. much apologies, please be kind to my v. confused self should you decide to leave a review.

12:51;

or: a superheroes origin story in five parts.

Klaus/Caroline, Bonnie/Damon | wc. 3705 | ch. 1/5

read on: AO3 / ff.net

—

PartOne

InWhich Everybody’s Week Must Have Been Pretty Rough

—

The weekend after Klaus escaped from his wall, he sat down in his studywith three bottles of liquor and double that amount of fresh blood, a steakcooked medium rare, and five years’ worth of newspapers to catch up with theworld.

Freya regarded him curiously. “You could have done away with the mess.We just ordered those new tablets.”

Rebekah was much ruder about the piles he left. She was probably stillmad she had had to miss four seasons of Supernaturalin order to save his skin.

Klaus didn’t answer them. He continued skimming the pages with aprevailing interest, rubbing ink and paper between his fingers. He soon foundthat he hadn’t missed much in his Marcel-imposed exile; that the mundanities oflife had persevered through the years.

His thoughts started to wonder when he was three-years deep into hiscatching up. Nothing caught his eye, and he was starting to feel the gratitudeof being able to sit in a comfortable armchair as opposed to being shackled toa floor dusted with rubble chip away.

Until he saw it.

He read the little opinion piece, then read it again, and a third timefor good measure.

And then he called Damon Salvatore.

—

At that point, not even Damon knew of their little hijinks despite havingmoved himself into their apartment. He used the pretence of “keeping an eye onthem” to make it past the front door. The living room became his sanctum santorum, and the couch he tookrefuge in constantly smelled like booze and Doritos.

Caroline was not happy with this arrangement, and made sure to be veryvocal about it every chance she got.

Sometimes it ranged from loud, to shrill, towake-your-neighbours-up-at-3am-because-Damon-you-fuck-you-left-your-underwear-in-my-laundry-basket piercing.

Tonight, Damon had the apartment to himself, and was glad for the peaceand quiet. Caroline was out on a date, and Bonnie was at the library borrowinga book. She was always at the library borrowing books, and he liked tellingpeople how bookish she was in a tone that was both patronizing and fond. It hadtaken some time, but he had finally perfected it.

In the middle of his Grey’sAnatomy rerun (“Denny? You chosea dying sack of meat over Alex? Really,Izzie?” he yelled at the tv), his phone rang.

It was Klaus. He hadn’t heard from the fucker in more than a decade, andwas immediately suspicious.

“City Morgue,” he answered cautiously.

“Just to be clear, you’re still second best,” came the familiar gout ofKlaus’s voice. “I only called you because Stefan’s number seems to not beworking, mate.”

“That’s ‘cause it’s not,” Damon said. “How do you still have mine?”

“If I wanted idle chit chat I would’ve resurrected Finn again.”

Damon muted the tv and got to his feet. “And yet here you are, makingidle chit chat.”

“I merely called to enquire about Caroline and Bonnie’s wellbeing.”

“They’re fine,” Damon said shortly.

“You best make sure they’re getting adequate rest for all thecrime-fighting they’re doing,” Klaus said, and killed the line.

Damon spat out his bourbon.

That’s how it all started, really.

—

Caroline was having a crummy night. The sole of her shoe had torn awayas she was chasing her assailant across the rooftops of Midtown, and it nowflapped with every step she took, and slowed her down considerably.

“I’m gonna get you, Raul!” she yelled, to make up for how she was losinghim, fast. “Your album sucked!”

Raul the Eurovision Vampire came to a screeching halt. He was screechingquite literally, because of all the insults Caroline had hurled at him in thepast week of stalking him, this one hurt the most.

“And your win last year?” Caroline continued as she hauled herself overa crumbling ledge. “Total pandering.”

Raul hissed and bared his fangs. “You know nothing of talent, sillygirl. If you did you wouldn’t be spending your nights in cowardice, hiding yourface with a gaudy mask. A poor man’s Catwoman.”

Caroline bristled, because it had taken her and Bonnie splurging on asewing course in Uptown to get their stitching just right.

“And you would’ve gotten more than a deal sponsoring mattresses afteryou won Eurovision,” she retorted, and Raul actually looked pained.

Actual, legit pain.

Caroline sighed. “Look, I’ll cut you a deal. See this stake here? Iwon’t stick it in your heart if you meet my conditions.”

Raul warily eyed the stake she was twirling between her fingers.Normally he would have told her to kiss his ass, but he was cornered, and hedidn’t fancy becoming a splat on the sidewalk.

That, and he was afraid of heights.

“And the conditions are?” he asked finally.

Caroline took a moment to rip the failing sole completely off her shoe.It came off with one clean pull, and when she looked up Raul was still there,which meant there was still hope for a redemption arc for him.

She gave him a winsome smile. “Do you have a pen?”

—

Bonnie slid in through her bedroom window, heady with glory. She hadgotten better at sneaking in and out at odd hours, but evidently not by much,since she managed to wake Damon up.

This was because he was in her bed when she threw herself on it.

“Damon, what the hell?”

Damon awoke with a snort. “A-ha! Proofof your foolhardy life choices!”

Bonnie rolled her eyes and unhooked her cape. She made a mental note to passCaroline twenty dollars. “Took you long enough to realize.”

“I am living with hoodwinks.”Damon pouted. “How could you not have let me in on this secret?”

“Damon, you helped me with laundry last week. You literally foldedpieces of my costume. It had my alter ego name on stitched across the front.”She swung her feet and walked to the paper partition by her dresser, where shewiggled out of her outfit safe from Damon’s prying eyes into a worn Whitmoresweater and blue shorts with lightning patterns on them.

“Are those anti-aging potions you’re brewing finally screwin’ with yourhead?” Damon was still on a roll. “You know how I had to find out? Klaus!”

“Klaus is alive?” Bonnie asked.

“Yes, and even in his state of barely living he ousted you and BlondeDistraction’s sly night crime-kicking.”

Bonnie started to respond, but then got sidetracked. “Blonde Distraction?”

“Uh – yeah.” He fiddled with his phone. “Blonde Distraction and FeistyFire.”

“That is fucking terrible,” Bonnie said mildly. “And not even ournames.”

“That’s what I call you in my blog, which I only update when I’m drunk. I’vebeen following you for years. Checkout the threads!” Damon waved his phone in her face.

“Are you drunk right now?” she asked.

“Yes,” Damon said sulkily, “but only half-stupid. You were never at thelibrary, were you?”

“Well, you were really sweet about it—”

“And you kept missing all those scrabble/pizza nights!” Damon howledinto his hands, betrayal gutting him like a fish.

“Damon,” Bonnie narrowed her eyes. “I’m tired. “The next time you spendthe night in my bed, I’m burning your brains out.”

“Reduced to being treated as one of your petty criminals,” Damonsniffed. “So be it. Our friendship always had an expiry date, huh?”

Damon slinked out of her room. Bonnie considered calling after him, butfigured she’d reason in the morning. For now, she had a huge bruise in her sideto nurse, and sleep was calling.

—

It started with scaring off new vampires from innocent clubgoers, andthen keeping the pasty creep-o’s who lived in the apartment adjacent to theirsin line when bodies started piling up in their shared dumpster.

Caroline hadn’t blown all her cash for an apartment in New York just forit to be crawling with the diseased, depravity and blood, so she took it uponherself to clean it up. An act of charity, if you will.

At night, she donned a mask and put on sensible boots. No stupidimpractical spandex for her, nor did she for a minute entertain midriff-baringleather, no matter how hot she might have looked.

Sipping from her thermos of warmed AB, she kneeled by stone gargoylesand prowled through the night. Afterwards she would either jump from rooftop torooftop, or practice her parkour, feeling invincible and (not gonna lie) reallyfucking cool.

At around 1am she got the read from Bonnie (in other words, Bonnietexted her in their coded-emoji) that their target for the night had arrived.

From five stories above she followed the sound of his footsteps throughthe alleyway, waiting to catch a heartbeat. When none came, she knew that hewas the one. His steps faltered when he heard a noise behind him. Caroline tookthe opportunity to jump down on him.

“Hello,” she smiled sweetly, when he was thrashing and spittingunderneath her. She was sitting on his back, which couldn’t be comfortable.

“Killing. Maiming. Money-laundering.” Bonnie came slowly from the mouthof the alleyway, her cape flowing behind her. “That last one’s kind of random,but the other shit we have on you—yikes.”

Caroline gathered his hair in her gloved hands and yanked hard. Thevampire cried out, enraged, but didn’t look away from her piercing gaze.

“You’ve got a locker full of civilians waiting like lambs forslaughter,” she said slowly, so he might not miss the threat in her voice.“Tell us where they are and you get to live.”

“I’m gonna have to call your bluff,” he rasped. “I’ve cut a pretty gooddeal, and ain’t no stinkin’ blonde and her twitchy sidekick are gonna stop me.”

Bonnie’s face darkened.

“Oooh,” Caroline whistled. “Bad choice of words there, bud. She’s not mysidekick. We’re partners. I kick ass, she takes names. Sometimes I take names,and she kicks ass. Though ‘kick’ might not be the right verb here…”

“I prefer not having to touch you scum,” Bonnie said, and from herfingers erupted flames.

Caroline smiled, eyes shining brightly in the fear that Bonnie hadincited into the now-still vampire.

“What are vampires most afraid of?” Caroline whispered into his fear.

“Werewolf venom.”

Caroline clicks her tongue. “No, the other thing.”

The vampire, cold sweat on his forehead, hesitated. ‘Uh—stakes?”

Caroline knuckled the base of his skull. “Fire, you moron. She’s waving it right in your face!”

It didn’t help that he passed out immediately.

Bonnie sighed and dropped her hands. The alley dimmed once again. “Canwe talk about this whole intimidation tactic thing?”

Caroline refused to look her in the eye.

—

It took about twenty minutes for him to come to, by which time Carolinehad gotten bored of sitting on his back and had decided to chain him to thedumpster instead.

After they heckled and tortured the information out of him, Carolinepulled out the usual contract – stating that no further harm would come to himfrom their hands if he got the hell out of the city and signed along the dottedline – when he started monologueing and posturing in a way that was really, really familiar.

Caroline pulled the pen away from his trembling grasp for it. Shesquinted in the dark alley, trying to make out his eyes.

“Caroline?” Bonnie asked, but Caroline barely heard.

The vampire was still monologueing, and Caroline felt a rising anger.She knew a compelled gaze anywhere.

“Damn it, Bon.”

Her fist swung out of her own accord, knocking the vampire out cold.There was a satisfying crack accompanying the slump of his neck, and Carolinedusted her hands off.

Bonnie eyed his body with distaste. “Harsh, Care. Don’t you usually waitfor them to sign the contract first?”

—

True to his word, Damon had indeed started a blog following the accountsof Blonde Distraction and Feisty Fire (not their actual names, but given thefact that he only ever blogged when he was drunk, he never bothered to learntheir real names) and their vigilante crime-fighting on his blog, WatchOutVillainz.com.

It was a smorgasbord of garish colour, Comic Sans, and badly-wordedheadings.

Klaus would never admit it, but he loved reading it.

He followed it with the same tenacity Caroline had for new episodes ofThe Bachelor, and one night even set up a username for himself to partake inthe lengthy discussions over who Blonde Distraction and Feisty Fire might be.

His username was entirely anonymous, and he enjoyed having a persona toparade as he took down trolls and ventured the tags, verbally maiming anyoneand everyone who dared speak ill of Blonde Distraction or Feisty Fire.

Granted, he didn’t care much for the witch, but thought that Carolinewould like it if he were to stand up for her too, so he did.

Damon showed up at his hotel room one night sullen-faced. “Get off mywebsite.”

“Make me,” Klaus said, typing progressively faster on his keyboard.

Damon failed to make him, and returned home, turning all his loyalfollowers on one hybrid_master_127. Unfortunately, Klaus seemed to have accrueda cluster of minions of his own in his short time of perusingWatchOutVillainz.com, and they threatened to hack into the mainframe of one ofhis life’s most precious work.

Damon, having limited knowledge of IT, highly doubted the existence of amainframe and whether or not it could be hacked.

In the end decided to play it safe, and Klaus stayed.

—

The way Caroline figured out it was Klaus who had been sending thugvamps her way was almost as fast as him discovering their true identities asthe Vigilantes of the Manhattan Bridge Overpass.

A week after Damon had almost thrashed his hotel room, Klaus opens thedoor to his magnificently ransacked quarters. Caroline was sitting on whatappeared to be the cracked granite of his bathtub, in his living room, with herlegs crossed. She was still in her mask and boots.

“What is wrong with you?” sheyelled. “Why can’t you pick up the phone and call like a normal person?”

“That would have ruined the fun,” Klaus replied. “Besides, would youhave answered?”

Caroline hesitated.

“I thought so.”

“You never answered any of mycalls.”

“I was chained up in a wall, love.”

Caroline considered this. “Hm.”

Klaus picked his way towards her, straightening lamps as he went. Minutegoosefeathers floated about his shoulders; the pillows had all been spearedonto the ceiling fan like kebabs. “It was all too easy to suss out it was you.”

Caroline refused to bite. Instead, she stayed silent, watching him comecloser and closer.

“You offered them redemption instead of gutting them alive, in documentform to boot.” Klaus sounded reproachful and he righted an upset table to hidehis exasperation. “Furthermore, Bonnie made no secret of her pyromanicabilities. She was always very artful with that certain power of hers.”

“You compelled yourself a massacre just to draw me out,” she hissed. “Ihappen to take my craft very seriously—”

“I know, love. I’m not laughing.” And indeed he wasn’t. In fact, he sortof admired the spirit in which she undertook her task. In all honesty, he believedthis to be a phase—it took him a while to process the fact that she’d chosen tospend her eternity (or at least, a significant early part of it) doing this.

“So why are you here?” Caroline asked.

“Because.” He paused. Why was hehere? Papa Tunde’s torment had left him withered and raw; Hayley and Freya hadgone to the ends of the earth to release him and when he’d woken up Hope waswell in her teen years. Despite the world staying to same, too much of what hecared about had changed. He needed—he needed to make sure, needed to see forhimself, how she was.

Perhaps she was right. A phone call would have worked better.

“I wanted to offer my services,” is what he decided on at last.

Caroline snorted so loud he thought it was a piece of his ceiling fallingon them.

—

“I know all the criminals in this city,” he insisted, dogging her downthe street. Caroline walked remarkably fast in the night. She had left her maskin the debris of his room, stating she had ‘plenty more’.

“I’d rather go to vampire jail,” she told him sedately.

“Ah, that rather poorly masked vampire rehab you set up,” he said,falling into step with her. “The Elizabeth-Bill Institute for the MorallyBankrupt. I was just short of amused as to what an easy target you madeyourself.”

“And yet the only person who managed to figure it all out was you,” shesaid.

“Well—Kol did, too. We were playing crime-bingo with your exploits.”Klaus grinned. “I was one money-launder away from a win, so I decided to pullthings to my favour.”

“I’ll wall you in myself,” she seethed.

“Oh, where will you possibly find the time in between all thiscrime-fighting?”

Caroline whipped around, fangs bared. “Leave me alone, Klaus.”

“How are the twins?” he asked gently.

“None of your business.”

“They should be around Hope’s age, shouldn’t they?”

“Stop talking about them.”

Caroline took a detour through an alleyway, and with more agility thanKlaus expected, climbed her way up the side of a building, all to get away fromhim.

Klaus weighed his options, then hefted himself up after her.

He found her sitting on a rooftop edge, the city pulsating beneath them.He sat down beside her and was surprised when she offered him a thermos ofblood. It was still warm.

“Where were you keeping that?” he asked admiringly, studying her outfit.

She sent him a look that could kill, and went back to countingheadlights. “Please don’t tell anyone,” she said quietly, after a while.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said. He cleared his throat and glanced ather. “When did it start?”

Caroline shuts her eyes. “A few years ago. Josie and Lizzie were growingup pretty fast. Alaric—he, well. Didn’t want me to have…” she gestured vaguely,“words were exchanged. I decided that if I could do my part to help in anyother way, I’d do it.”

“You’ll soon be bored with the futility of it, I imagine.”

“I’ve got an end goal in mind,” she said absently.

After a fashion he realized she had stopped counting headlights and wasfocused on a window in the building across the cobweb of streets. Two girls,remarkably alike, were pulling the curtains closed for the night.

“They’re nocturnal creatures,” he said softly. “If I could venture a guess,just like their mother.”

Caroline didn’t answer. Instead, she rested her head on his shoulder. Hestiffened in surprise, but she didn’t comment on it, neither did she move away.“Next time, just call. You can’t base my reactions on the girl you knew tenyears ago.”

“Some things will always remain singular,” he said. He wasn’t speakingabout her. She hoped she saw it in the look he was giving her.

Caroline pulled away slowly. For a long time, she only looked at him.Klaus took a chance and reached for her hand, after which she tangled herfingers in his. They stayed that way for only a short moment, but the feelingof her palm, soft in his, lingered long after she’d slid her thermos back intoits hiding place on her body and left.

—

Damon had taken to fixing them breakfast in the wee hours of the morningwhen they finally returned. He reasoned that it was the least he could do, whatwith all the slander he keeps slinging their way on his website.

“To blindside the scrutinizing eyes of the public!” he insisted,flipping pancakes.

However, when Caroline returned home with an extra guest, his spatulafell onto the island with a smack.

“I refuse to feed him,” he told Bonnie. So offended was he that Carolinehad brought Klaus home that he refused to speak to Caroline too. Looking rightthrough them, he pointed out, “And I only made pancakes for three.”

Damon gestured angrily at the table, where three immaculate plates piledhigh with pancakes and cream had been set.

Klaus scowled. “But there’s four more, burning, by the way, on theskillet.” He tried not to sound too indignant.

“You kidding me? These are all for Bonnie!”

As the two immortal beings squabbled, Caroline speared a triangle ofpancake with her fork. Bonnie sipped her glass of orange juice. It felt strangefor the apartment to be so full, especially with the presence of Damon’s entireliquor cabinet dotting every corner.

Klaus finally wrestled himself a seat next to Caroline, but not beforeflicking off Damon’s shirt that had been slung over the back of the chair with dispassion.

“That’s it! I’m done! You can make breakfast yourselves from now on!” Damon yanked off his apron and was gonewith a huff.

“Does this happen a lot?” Klaus enquired, sniffing around a piece ofbacon.

“More times than you can imagine,” Bonnie said.

—

In the coming days, Klaus visited more often. His hotel room had beenproperly demolished, he took to reminding Caroline, who sighed and held out atowel for him to use her shower.

Bonnie delighted in the fact that she now has leverage against having abroody roommate/parasite, seeing as Caroline had one of her own now, too.

Damon continued to be miserable.

Klaus continued to goad them with his offer.

Caroline and Bonnie continued their crime-fighting.

“Let’s not make this routine,” Bonnie told Caroline as she garrotted avampire who had been hell-bent on chowing down on a family of four. “By nextweek we kick them out.”

“You got it, Bon,” Caroline said, waving the contract in the chokingvampire’s face. “We’re burning the couch. And can we finally talk about that cape of yours?”

Bonnie rolled her eyes, but nodded her agreement as the vampire veryreluctantly signed her name along the dotted line.

—

tbc

9B��`

#klaroline #bamon #klaroline fanfiction #bamon fanfiction #ishenwulf #lol HOW DO I EVEN GO ABOUT TAGGING THIS SHIT #hannah writes things #askbox request #fic: 1251 #otp: speak my name when you damn me #otp: yellow ledbetter #this was fun to write and i actually had heaps more buuut i figured i'd save them for upcoming chapters #here you go ishi YOU ASKED FOR IT #tvd

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