#esp with the red blade and her eyes
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Glorestor: 5 Times They Denied (Final)
+ 1 time They Did Not.
From the POVs of the various folks around the 2 elves who are convinced they are courting, or betrothed, even though they were told otherwise.
OOC as always is all on me and canon is super hazy now but ahhh I tried
The final part! Thank you esp @mae-it-be-an-evening-dhros @tamilhobbit @the-dreaming-plastic-dinosaur for following this indulgent writing of mine as part of me coping with things and being so kind to my first experiment writing based on Tolkien's works!
Sometimes, its the kindest ones who break the most.
---
6] Elrond Earendilion
Elrond is tired.
Here he sits on Celebrian's favourite bench in their balcony, watching the blazing crimson sun setting over the cliffs of his beloved Imladris. The light flooding the valley with endless red. Like fire, burning the skies, dripping into the water flowing endlessly, the life blood of all in this realm.A swallow chirps and lands on his shoulder, weightlessly and with ease.
Vilya pulses with every breath and each pulse of his fea as Elrond feels the fine well of power entangling around him. The Lord have been feeling the weariness of the ages sinking deep and clinging heavy on his bones.
The dull weight of it all drags on, settling on his spirit, plunging into depths unknown, rolling down and down, pulling into a deep, dark ocean beyond even Ulmo's reach.
Deeper.
And deeper.
And deep-
"-rond? Elrond!"
Elrond gets startled out of his darkening thoughts as the little swallow flutters off and faces the one face that he had always known.
One he and his brother have come to known as warmth and safety since they were but tiny elflings. Against the burning sky, Erestor stands before him, bent low with a gentle hand over his own, the one that bears the weight of power. The older ellon's cold hands cooling unlike the overbearing heat of his own skin. His slate green eyes dark, filled with a wide array of emotions unspoken, swirling in those orbs.
Right now, his Chief Councillor has forgone his usual heavy black robes, except for his elegant brocade robe of office over a tunic and leggings. The gold earcuff and feanorian earring shinning brightly.His twin blades strapped by his side and a crimson red scarf. No longer a mere advisor, Erestor and a select few of his staff have taken up the duty as the last means of defense of the Valley with the absence of Glorfindel and their troops.
Yet to Elrond, before him is not his Councillor and advisor, but one he and his brother have long recognised as another peredhel and claimed as kin of their own.
"Tor."
Elrond shifts and tugs Erestor down to sit beside him, the Lord of Imladris easing away the persona he carries.In his own private quarters, he cares not. The quiet guardian lets him, allowing Elrond to lean his head on his shoulder, his cold hand holding his own.The rare instance where Elrond feels the suppressed fea of the elder, the cold light bringing him familiar comfort. There was always something about the elder's fea he could never explain and he never knew why Erestor did so. Elrond never asked.
"You should not push yourself, Elrond." Erestor whispers.
"This land and many depend on me. As well as those further west. The darkness grows and without the strength of the land, it will be hard on our forces."
"Glorfindel and our warriors are more than capable of defending our borders against the wretched claws of evil and their ilk."Erestor admonishes gently, rubbing mindless circles on the peredhel's hand."You must rest, it will do us no good should you wear yourself thus. Arwen worries too."
"My precious daughter...always so sensitive and thoughtful. Even if I loathe to part from her, she has grown and found her own path. My sons, even if they have not made their choice to sail, they are finding their own place in this world. I cannot help but wonder...where does this leave me?"Elrond whispers his heartache in melancholy, closing his eyes and tries to ease the tension in him.
He is so, so tired. Like a thin piece of string, tattered and worn as time went on.
How he wished he could return to those innocent days! Safe and warm.There were days where he yearned for vague memories of the arms of nana, the hazy and distant gentleness of his adar's hand. Oh! How he longed for Celebrian's infectious joy and light. The ever smiling Celebrimbor's optimism. The ever practical Erenion and his laughter. In all that he had lost, he misses them the most. Dearest Elros by his side as they played with their strong Atto, with Atya singing enthralling songs and wonderous lullabies into the wild breeze.
His heart is so greedy and wants for them all. Fragments of light out of his grasp. Little fragments is all he craves.
"To be honest, when all is over, I had no desire to sail."
Erestor's words throws Elrond out of his maudlin thoughts like a broken glass, bringing everything to a standstill. The air freezes as Elrond's heart sinks, the younger elf turns harshly around as he hears the feanorian's proclamation.
"What?"
"I have long thought I shall fade here. On this very land where my Atar and my Amil have held me and my siblings in their embrace. " Erestor stares at the crimson dusk, "Where it all began, is where I will find my end. The only home I had. Where all my memories are, and have possessed all that I have ever known."
The string breaks.
"You can't!"
Elrond snarls, grabbing Erestor's arms, clinging almost like a desperate man reaching for a distant shore. The son of Earendil and Elwing feels that the abyss have finally caught him in its cold maw, the endless waves of loneliness and loss, regrets and sorrow that he have kept away for so long, now unchained in its fury. He had long known many of the old feanorians and the noldor have thought to remain in Middle Earth, with Imladris as their final Home. However, to hear those words from his longest friend, protector and kin-
The power beneath this land moans painfully with her master's sorrow, clinging to Elrond like a child seeking solace.
"Everyone I have known and love are lost and gone. Forsaken and abandoned! I cannot! I cannot lose you as well, Tor!"
Elrond gives in as he finally wails, wretched and tormented, ages of heartache and desires bursting forth. The remaining one finally starts to crumble under the weight he has borne.
Dear Erestor who watched over him and Elros, and sheltered them after Maedhros and Maglor were gone. The one they have taken as their older sibling. Who had held them in the cold, somber nights in Lindon, with battered bloodied hands and lustrous raven locks shorn from his head. Who mourned with him the death of their beloved Elros, and the fall of his legacy. The one built with him this haven and held his own children with the same gentle hands filled with scars. The one who kept him and his children going as Celebrain's ship sailed.
Elrond has had enough.
"I don't want to lose anyone anymore. Please, Tor. You are all I have left..." was all Elrond could plead with what selfishness he could find in him.
He is a healer, he has seen broken hurts and deep wounds buried in the soul, mending each unspoken pain little by little with what strength he carries.
But who would bear and heal the pain of the healer then?
"Oh, Elrond..."
The old feanorian caresses his face in tender hold, wiping away the tears he have not realised were there from his redden cheeks. Bathed in ephemeral crimson light, the two companions through the ages holds the other quietly.
"Do not weep." Erestor whispers into his ear as he embraces the younger peredhel in sorrow.
"I will not lie, that was my thought for the longest time, to remain in the land where my amil and my siblings have laid to rest before passing into the Halls. I am tired, truth be told. Yet with all that has happened recently... watching you, the young ones, even Bilbo and the Dwarrow and Edain, and all who have came to this haven we have forged...I find myself wondering, if I could find that courage that you all have shown to walk a different path?"
Erestor then turns back towards Arien, watching the crimson setting sun. While Elrond stares up wonder at this Erestor who is still that calm and mighty guardian, yet different all the same. Within his eyes, they seem to hold a different light. A light that he feels in their shared bond of kinship in their fea, a burning ember chasing away the creeping darkness that have grown far and deep away inside.
And Elrond feels.
Things then swiftly happen in immediate succession, like something in the distance shattered and mended. A change in the air as that unseen miasma of dread it lifts as the birds cry. Vilya shudders, the elven ring trembling in resonance, before finally dimming itself into almost nothingness.
The horn of the Valley resounds.
An age ends. Another shall soon begin.
---
The residents of Imladris awaits at the square for the troops returning, bearing the wounded and the lost, but triumphant still with news of the destruction of Sauron and his Ring. Elrond bears his mantle once more with his circlet and heavy robes embroidered with patterns of gliding stars, hollow still but no longer in deep woe.
Vilya remains silent.
Their Lord descends to welcome their armies and the Edain back Home. Arwen remains close by his side, dressed in silver and silk. His daughter, ever empathic and sensitive. Her quiet presence a balm after that release of emotions welled up and sealed in him through the ages, bringing about much relief to his weary heart.
Bilbo Baggins, even with his body growing old and frail now that the final connection as Ringbearer is lost, hobbles slowly beside him in careful steps. The Hobbit probably hopeful for some news of his nephew and the fellowship.
A long welcoming horn sounds and there beyond the bridge, they see Glorfindel, glowing with the light of Aman, leading their victorious warriors and the last of their wounded home. Elrond's heart gladden to see them safe once more. As the Lord of Imladris, Elrond breathes in deeply the refreshing clean air, ready to give a speech to welcome them all home-
Right before he could get a word out, a blur of a shadow darts out, his Chief Councillor leaps elegantly past the many steps and simply crashes straight into his Captain dismounting Asfaloth. His favourite crimson scarf falling and lays forgotten in his wake.
The Golden Lord would have fallen over by the sudden unexpected impact from being pounced upon him if not for his unnatural strength. The Balrog-slayer dropping his helm and swiftly catching the dark haired elf with a hand on his back and another placed almost naturally on his assailant's bottom with no hesitation. The startled warrior's surprised noise also does not hinder Erestor in the slightest as he wraps his arms around the taller ellon and greets him.
Head on with a hard kiss.
Elrond nearly chokes.
The world seems to stop in that instant. Not a soul breathes. Not even as the caravan and wagons of the wounded behind holler at what was on with the hold up from behind. Asfaloth simply snorts in disbelief with a shake of his great head only a horse can, and wisely chooses to trot further away.
Everyone else remains still. Not even willing to move a muscle as the couple parted after a long heated kiss before a stunned audience, heaving with adrenaline and foreheads touching close.Unbothered and unconcerned.The silence is deafening, before someone finally speaks.
"Marry me, Laure." Erestor whispers, breathless.
Glorfindel gasps. His eyes bright with emotions, wild and free. The Hero of Gondolin could only gaze at his partner wordlessly filled with a fierce passion and endearing love.
"Eres? You are certain? You know we do not have to. I care not for oaths or promises or ceremonies, but only you by my side. My fea knows only you, forever and always. I am content!”
"No!"
Erestor's hands clutches into the white cape of their Captain, his eyes fierce with raw determination, their unbridled Tempest.
"No more I shall fear of the unknown. Neither of Oaths nor Doom. Even if I am damned to the Void, even if I must claw my way out of the abyss, I will find my way back to you! It is you, and only you that I will hold till the end of all of Eru's Songs! I want to be one with you meldanya*. I am ready."
If there was a tear from either of them, no one could say for they were so enthralled by the words they share.
“My brave Eres! Have I not told you before? May it be in the light of grace or endless Void, all I care is you as you are. It will never change! If it is what you desire, then let us become one! None will keep you from me, for what use is my poor existence if I cannot keep my heart by my side?" Glorfindel smiles, holding Erestor close with no concern to the travel-worn state he is in. With a lighter, softer peck upon the soft lips of his partner.
“You need not protect me. Just, stay beside me, as I face what is ahead, that is all I shall ask. ” Erestor whispers softly. It was plain for all to see, even with that cool mein, their ever stern Councillor was basking in the raw light of love.
“That I can do.”Glorfindel returns with a soft laugh, eager and proud in their joy.
"I am sorry. I am sorry it took so long."
"Nay, it matters not for we are here at last, and what do you know? I am ready too." Glorfindel then pulls Erestor into a deep embrace.
"Let us be bound, Eres, and never be apart."
"Aye."
Elrond does not know why or how but watching this all unfold before his eyes, his two friends finally answering to those unspoken feelings that they have all long known felt like a refreshing air of relief for himself. The Lord can only give a loud laugh at the incredulous timing in the whirlwind of it all. Like a chapter coming to an end on its own.
Their happiness is so infectious and warm, that it urges the half-elven on with an unexpected impulsiveness as he descends down the steps to meet the couple. His arms reaching out and pulling them into a hug with his dear friends. Which causes the trio of Lords to nearly fall over into an unseaming heap if not for Glorfindel and Erestor pulling Elrond and each other safe on their feet on the solid ground.
"Mellyn nin! Does this mean we can safely deem that you are both together? After so many years, we are to have a wedding in the Valley then?" The Lord of Imladris smiles, feeling lighter than ever.
The couple shares a an uncharacteristically shy look, probably realising their open affections have been on full on display. The two shuffling awkwardly, as Glorfindel pulls back his golden braid and Erestor straightening his robes. Even as their hands remain clasped together through the motions.
"Aye."
"We are."
With that the dam breaks and there are cheers and roars from all around. The felicitations and laughter blooming and loud, even out beyond the gates, voices echoing far across Imladris.
Elrond even spots several bags of coin being passed around. Looks like the age old wagers have ended, one that he was unfortunately unable to participate out of fairness and status. His foresight definitely did not foresee any of this, Elrond can be certain, despite whatever one may believe. There were some hands passing over even to a rather eager Bilbo and...Arwen!? Elrond gives his daughter a incredulous stare of dismay with a raise of his brow, but Arwen simply wiggles the bag and mouths, "Aragon's!"
Right.
"But we will not be having a wedding."
The sounds all come back to a halt, leaving the birds to continue with their delightful song.
"ABSOLUTELY NOT!"
Everyone gets startled by the suddden aggressive shout and turns to its unlikely source. The ever polite and dutiful Steward of the House, Head Minstral of the bards, Lindir, sstands in horror. A look of disdain upon his face with a hand clutching his robes in great horror. Elrond is rather certain its overly dramatic and very much out of character for the usually placid minstrel.
"No! No! Absolutely no! I have waited for an age for this and I refuse to accept-Its not how things are done! I made plans! I drafted songs! I will be vindicated! I WILL SEE A WEDDING!" Lindir declares with a glorious wave of his sleeves. Some of the household staff can be seen nodding in agreement.
Alright, he stands corrected with further observation. The little sleeve sweep was so much that he is reminded of Atya. Lindir certainly has enough flair to match with the Noldor he admires.
The couple can only simply blink blankly in response.
"But, we do not have the resources allocated for it, Lindir. Besides, we are short on time, we must prepare for our Arwen's wedding and for our House to journey forth to Gondor. There is also our wounded and our dead to care for, either way, it is not feasible at all." Their ever calculating and planning Councillor explains calmly.
"I politely disagree, my Lord Erestor."
Everyone now turns to Saelbeth who is the one to interrupt his mentor with a bow. His hands tucked in his sleeves as he steps forward from the group of councillors gathered.
"We not only have an abundance of resources stored, our staff and soldiers are more than capable and equipped to run autonomously. In fact, much of the preparations have already begun. Our household is more than proficient to handling the arrangements should our Lords be amendable in our suggestion."
Erestor narrows his sharp eyes at his protege, who is undaunted by the fierce look. As if the feanorian did not expect the efficiency he has implemented in this House to choose now of all times to work against him of all things.
Glorfindel gives a slight cough which sounded suspiciously like a laugh.
"We are also, able to oversee the duties of our troops as needed, if necessary." Deputies Laica and Thandor concurred from behind without prompt.
Which only earns them a careful glance from their Commander, one that the soldiers have chosen to disregard. Glorfindel rolls his eyes with an unbelivable shake of his head, muttering something along the lines of 'insubordination'.
"To be honest, Eres and I, we have both desired to only be wed simply by bonding. For our kin and friends here in our beloved home to recognise it, is more than enough." Their Captain elaborates, although this answer just seem to infuriate the usually calm minstrel even more, that the sindar is made speechless as he tries to breathe with his staff supporting him behind.
Elrond is a little guilty to find the whole situation a tad comical in any other circumstances.
"You will both not grant me the chance to witness an elven Wedding in my Home before I leave?"
They all turn around and come face to face with his daughter. Their beloved princess, their Evenstar, reaching out to hold their hands in hers. She gazes at her mentors and guardians with those gentle eyes, glimmering and full of hope under the golden rays of a new age of peace.
"Arwen-" Erestor began but Arwen urges him to listen with a shake of her head.
"Uncle Erestor, Uncle Glorfindel. Long have I wished to see you joined and blessed in ceremony. Will you not grant me this? Please?"
With that, Elrond can see the couple's resolve fall. Which was not surprising. For the two loved his daughter as though his children were their own since they were born. Elrond remembers the nights he and Celebrian handed his children to the two, watching them care for the young little elflings with so much care and selfless love.
Although that little spark in Arwen eyes is a little too obvious. Elrond gives his daughter an exasperated but fond look for that. It is somewhat reassuring to know his children all have not lost all of their playful innocence after all they have experienced in life and will carry them forth in what lies ahead.
Erestor manages to resist for a good while before giving a resigned sigh. He shares a knowing look with Glorfindel who returned with a wistful shrug.
"We can compromise, I suppose. Who needs tradition anyway in our haven, a Home for all walks of life?"
And compromise they did.
After mourning for the ones that have passed and comfoting those who grieved, the rest of Imladris sang for all, for those who cry and those who are to heal, and for everlasting peace.
Until the voices cease and raises once more in the flurry of excitement and chaos. The whole of Imladris prepares for the journey to Gondor and Arwen's wedding. Here in Imladris, where all of the elves from every clan have settled and called home for more than an age all prepare in their strange mix of elven customs hashed together in celebration.
On the night before their departure and their supposed wedding ceremony, Glorfindel and Erestor disappears, while Imladris makes merry in the name of the married couple.
The duo only emerges once more at the break of dawn, with Arien's greeting upon them. Glorfindel and Erestor appear, walking down the path from the sea of beech trees serenely, dressed in beautiful robes that Elrond has vaguely remembered from years long ago on one autumn eve. Their hair braided in a mix of noldor and vanyar patterns. They bear no wedding rings, but upon their brow, rests the circlet of their mate, with golden flowers shining against raven dark hair, and an elaborate twisting weaves gleaming upon glowing gold locks. It was plain for all to see, the marriage bond is complete and proud.
They stand before The Lord of Imladris and Arwen by his side, Lindir standing nearby bearing the ceremonial water from the Bruinen with almost the entirety of the Last Homely House welcoming the newly bonded Lords back with flowers. With bended knee, they greeted him and presented each other as their rightfully bonded mate, awaiting for his blessing. One that Elrond is more than eager to give, as he holds their warm hands in his.
Warm?
Under all that happiness, Elrond suddenly senses a familiar light in Erestor as well. Elrond feels, and is surprised to find Erestor's fea dancing unbound, like a little ember on a quiet eve. With Glorfindel's powerful light mingling through like blooming vines, caressing across the shared connection. He simply cannot put a finger to no matter how he tried. Although he is unable to give much thought to it with most of his House eager to approach and congratulate the newly wedded couple until the time comes that they must leave for the long journey to Arwen's future.
Elrond watches it all, as he had done through the ages. A sense of acceptance settles within him as he urges his mount on, taking the first step out of Imladris with his daughter and friends by his side, and the elves of Imladris following behind.
Elrond turns to the boundless skies beyond.
Everyone is finding their own path, its probably time he walks down his own as well.
---
Flags flutter in the wind. Sails are prepared, and the ships are ready. Elrond observes as everyone else bid farewell to friends and kin. He has already made his goodbyes to his children but as a father, it is still difficult to part with them, forever his and Celebrian's treasured little ones. Bilbo and Frodo are huddling with their kin while Galadriel and Mithrandir speak with Cirdan in quiet voices.
It is hard to comprehend that he himself is finally leaving these shores for some place he has only heard and never seen. May it be from tales in the books or words of others. The unknown seems so difficult to grasp now that he is facing it.
"Elrond."
Elrond turns and sees Erestor and Glorfindel approaching, probably done with overseeing things.
"Tor." Elrond indulges a childish whim, greeting his advisor the nickname out in the open. Before he is pulled into a warm embrace by his old companion.
"Be safe. Be happy."
"I will."
A press of their foreheads, the two part, before Glorfindel hugs Elrond as well.The warrior's arms folding over his form, strong yet gentle. Oh Glorfindel! Fair and selfless, who protected him and his family since the days of old, always cheerful and supportive. The defender of Imladris who sang so beautifully and made the flowers dance. Who also have the terrible habit of enabling little elflings with too much sugar and making him laugh.
He will miss them both dearly. His precious friends who have walked by his side.
"Send my regards to Celebrian and everyone there, alright?"
"Are you both sure you are staying?" Elrond asks once more, just to be sure.
Now that Glorfindel's duty is done, he is to return to Valinor. Erestor, now his husband and mate meant that he too, will sail with his beloved. Yet, the couple has elected to remain in Middle Earth and Imladris for sometime yet.
"Someone has to watch over Elladan and Elrohir. As well as those who seek to sail in the coming years, who will need guidance as they pass through the Last Homely House. Celeborn alone would not be possible!" Glorfindel remarks lightly in jest.
"It would not be long." Erestor reassures.
A bell sounds, and Cirdan calls for those looking to sail to finally board the ship. In that moment, the reality of the situation finally sinks in for Elrond like a skipping pebble finally falling into the water.
He looks back at his friends, who returns with an encouraging nod and a wave.With a deep breath, Elrond steps forward and onwards.
As everyone boards, Elrond notices Galadriel turning pointedly towards Erestor without a word. Who simply gives a small nod in acknowledgement to the Lady while Glorfindel keeps a hand proudly on his mate's waist. Galadriel gives a cryptic nod in return, and turns to board the ship.
As the hobbits follow along with Mithrandir, Erestor suddenly strides up, calling for Bilbo. The old hobbit and his nephew turns back towards the feanorian in wonder. It is then, Elrond sees Erestor removing his treasured earring bearing the feanorian star, bending down and handing it carefully into Bilbo's thin hands.
"I do not know what good this may do, but I hope it will aid you in what you seek in some way."
"And... should anyone ask?"
Erestor and Bilbo share a long moment in silence, before the old hobbit grips onto the gift with a new found strength in his old hands with grateful acceptance. Mithrandir watches on, curious and full of mirth, but wisely chooses not interfere as they move on.
The anchors are pulled. The wind picks up and the gulls sing an ode to bid them farewell.
Farewell to Middle Earth! Farewell to everything and all! As the Eldar and the ringbearers leave behind all they have known and onwards into another realm, into another journey unknown. The breeze grows strong and the waves rushes, pushing them on and into the light-
"Elrond!"
The Peredhel turns back and sees Erestor running upon the docks, robes in hand and shouting towards the ocean with little care for his usual decorum. Glorfindel following close behind, waving brightly and so enthusiastically, almost like a maniac should one stumble upon the sight.
"Go! My kin! We will be just right behind!"
"The journey will be awhile! Do not miss us! It will not be long and you shall have company to keep you busy, dear Elrond!"
Elrond blinks back a tear at his silly friends and laughs.
---
---
---
There was only so much one can do out in the vast and endless sea in close quarters with many others. However, Elrond has found comfort watching the stars and his Adar sail across the night skies, wondering in the quiet of his mind.
When the shores of the West are finally sighted, many are excited, though for a break in endless voyage or beauty of it, Elrond could not be certain. As they all clamouring and crowding on the bow for a glimpse of the blessed realm.
Yet the unexpected always happen when one least expects it.
With a loud cry resounding into the air breaking the peace, everyone on the ship are soon startled out of their watchful gaze of the their eternal home. Elrond jumps up, sprinting to the bottom of the deck to the storage where lies its source. Where a pale Frodo stares incredulously at an open box.
Galadriel arrives as well and they share a questioning look, leaving Mithrandir to quickly tend to the startled hobbit on the floor of the ship. Bilbo slowly joins in, offering a pat of comfort to his kin, though the old adventurer seems oddly calm by the chaos. Sounds of movement from the opened box increase with intensity, each rustling and rattling growing louder much like Elrond's own heartbeat. There is no foulness or evil in the air, but age old instincts has them on edge all the same.
With careful steps, Elrond approaches the crate first with Galadriel following close behind.
Cautiously, they all peer inside.
After all these years and in endless joys and unending sorrow, the half elven finds finally feels that burden upon him lifting, a light of hope and his being healing at long last. With quiet tears and a sob of delight, Elrond is finally able to smile again, full and free, as he dives in to embrace the beginnings of healing as his heart soared.
"Atya!"
---
*Quenya: my beloved
A/N: I probably could have polished things more but at this point, I think I shall leave it as it is. A rather odd final part I think but I tried? Thank you all for taking the time to read and comment and reblog, you all made my day with each one!
(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6)
#the lord of the rings#lotr#the silmarillion#the silm#glorestor#elrond#erestor#glorfindel#lindir#the residents of imladris#arwen#bilbo baggins#frodo baggins#finally done!#dont hurt me im soft#ficlet#glorfindel x erestor#elrond has so nany things to resolve imo
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Blood Red: Favourite piece of dialogue from your wip
Yes, I am not-so-sneakily trying to get bits more of your HaldirxOFC WIP. If you didn't get me hooked on this ship like crack then perhaps I wouldn't have to do this. ;)
Ice Blue: Ship trope you think is overused in writing
Forest Green: Of your main five characters, who is a tea, coffee, water or soda person?
Please and thank you!
Hello, hello, Mellon! Thank you for judiciously supplying me with asks because I love them!
Blood Red
So I’m just going to give you most of the scene that I had already teased for you instead of my favorite dialogue because I think that’s what you’d prefer so hope you don’t mind ;)
“Cirán, you cannot be serious!” Haldir exclaims as he struggles against the other elf’s hold preventing from marching back into surgery.
“You would leave my brother in the hands of an apprentice with this?” His voice is tight in outrage.
“Chief Marchwarden!” Cirán snaps. “She’s recent to us here in The Golden Wood, but not to her skills. Marchwarden,” their voice then softens, “Haldir, please, Rúmil is in good hands with her. She recognized the symptoms as soon as the rider came and has been preparing the whole hours since. Please, let us work.”
Haldir bites his tongue as he watches the unknown elleth cut open the dressing he’d wrapped himself around the jagged wound on his brother’s chest and side and begin flushing it with a mix of clean water and a pungent brew of dark herbs, only some of which he recognized.
Haldir takes a shaky breath and reluctantly nods before forcing himself to step back and off to the side. He clenches his jaw and sits in the chair provided by Cirán before the healer goes back to assisting with the work ahead.
Haldir, The Lady’s voice sounds clear in his head, startling him from his thoughts. Celeborn tells me the patrols have destroyed the orc holdout responsible and are bringing in the poisoned blades to the healers for inspection. Expect them in the hour. I have already let Nestál know, as well. How is Rúmil fairing?
Haldir closes his eyes and takes a short moment before responding, attempting to will away some of the latent adrenaline and underlying panic in his body.
No worse than before we set off, my Lady. The new healer apparently has seen something similar before and she’s taken the lead in his healing, he responds.
Ah, slight amusement and warmth filters through their óswanë link. Yes, I imagine she has. She pauses before adding.
Haldir, rest. Let the healers take care of Rúmil. Orophin is on his way in from the south outpost, as well. You take care of our people well, let them help you. Take this time to be with your brothers, we’ll hold steady until you return.
Haldir flounders for what to say and his hands clutch at his own over cloak now torn in three separate places and soaked through with his own brother’s blood. He wants to argue but knows he can’t. There is nothing for him to argue against, except perhaps his own stubbornness and sense of duty.
Of course, my Lady. Thank you.
Be at peace, Marchwarden. Today has been a dark day, but all will be well. She soothes before withdrawing from his mind.
Haldir sighs and begins to compile a list of all the reports he’d need to complete and patrol routes they’d need to revise. He rubs his temples and settles in the chair for the long vigil he knows he has ahead of him.
Ice Blue: Tropes that are Overused
Miscommunication
Friends to lovers, especially childhood best friends to lovers. Esp esp if it’s they grew up in the same household but aren’t related. You’re emotionally related like ??!
Enemies to lovers, but like snarky enemies/frenemies to lovers. Real enemies to lovers is Some Good Shit.
Men being toxic but still getting away with it because they’re “protecting” a person (esp women) from something they didn’t understand and they end up being “right” in some way. Gross -10000/10
Love triangles - just make everyone queer and/or poly; solves all the goddam problems imo. (This is why I like Iron Widow so much) But I mostly hate this because the woman is a Plot Device and not a good one or she seems like the bad person because two men both decide not to leave her alone which is bs.
Bonus tropes I LOVE: found family, there was only one bed/room, hurt/comfort/whump fics and the wound stitching and begging those not to die that comes with it, holiday fics
Forest Green - Of your 5 Main Characters who is a tea, coffee, soda, water Person
I technically only have one OC rn. Can you throw me some characters you’d like me to comment on? ❤️💚
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Hiii just dropping in here to say I'm really really happy you're writing WMMH again 😭💖💖 don't get me wrong, I love your new stuff and your writing is always awesome (esp that new Mathias fic!!!!) but I think WMMH holds a special place in my heart for being the fic to convert me into loving Cyberpunk!Alfred jfjfnfjd
Cyberpunk Alfred has my whole soul. He has the deepest and truest characterization in that story, and the same goes for Allen. But even a basic summary would capture their personalities down to a T:
Alfred, the bull-headed vigilante on a quest to preserve humanity on the precipice of collapse. Allen, the poor mechanic who finally lands some stability by fadoodling with organized crime a corporation. An unstoppable force meets an immovable object. Who will come out on top? None of them. Your dad does.
Also, I’m so fucking glad you’re staying so in tune! It does a lot to keep me motivated. Have this treat while you wait 👀 I wanted to finish the chapter but it’s super late and I didn’t want to get lazy.
(It’s also nice to see you enjoyed Viking Mathias 😉)
What makes me human
[Cyberpunk! America x reader] 4
(remastered)
“You know him?” You frowned. Allen never stuck around to answer, bursting into a sprint to chase after the fugitive. Before he disappeared into the crowd, you ran after him, unable to drop your quest for the truth. “Wait!” You called out. “Who is he?”
“Remember that crazy shoot-out that took out three whole floors of the building?” He never slowed his pace, letting the gap between you both grow larger by the second. But that was what he intended, as much as it hurt to leave you behind. “The terrorist that killed half our men? That’s him. That’s the guy.”
“Christ on a bike,” Alfred hissed.
While he darted his head from left to right, all he could hear was the frantic whirring in his chest, then the dripping of a gutter nearby. Hiding in an alleyway wasn’t exactly hiding, and if he was found, he was as good as dead. Everything he fought for would go down with him to the grave if he even got one.
Whipping his head to the street, he expected to see a dirty asphalt road, only to see anything but.
A pair of scarlet red eyes burned so brightly at him, all he saw was purple as he was shoved against the wall with a heavy ‘thump.’
“Shit—” He seethed. A combat knife jabbed at his face, and it would’ve skewered right through him if he hadn’t caught his assailant’s hand. Tightening his grip on it, their arms began trembling as they pitted their raw strength against each other.
“Is this how Mizumoto greets old friends? Doesn’t seem very polite.” Alfred grinned, voice straining.
“When I realized (F/N) was gone, I knew someone had taken her,” Allen spoke in a low tone. He pressed the blade deeper into the other’s skin, darkening his glare. “And look who I run into. Alfred fucking Jones himself. You have some balls trying to steal from us again after we nearly killed you last time.”
Where there should’ve been blood, was nothing but a transparent slither of body fluid. He was the same freak he remembered, an artificial killing machine that couldn’t bleed. But Allen wasn’t afraid. And that lack of fear was what put them in the same league.
“But the thing is, you didn’t.” He spat, shoving the knife away. “I won’t stop until I get that chip. You know I won’t. ‘Specially when you corpo assholes are getting something that shouldn’t be had!”
Alfred raised his leg and kneed him in the crotch.
“Gh—!” Allen hunched over with two hands over his jewels. In his bout of disorientation, he was kicked back to a safe distance. While he hissed in pain, wincing some, he glared at Alfred through his eyebrows. “Real classy of you to do that, dipshit.”
When he straightened up, he spat at the other’s feet.
“I’m doing you a favor by telling you to give up,” He shook his head, raising his arms. “Do you really think you can make a difference to the world by yourself?” Already, Allen knew he was wasting his breath by reasoning with him. Alfred was blinded by hatred and his self-righteousness all the same.
It showed in his unwavering gaze, which burned with a faith that could put any religion to shame.
“I mean, look around you!” Even in that brief pause, they heard something in the background. They always heard something, be it the mechanical hum of the city, or the echo of spokespeople in ads. “Cyberpunk. That’s what we’re existing in. It’s our present and future until we blow ourselves apart.”
“Easy for you to say. You’re the yakuza’s lapdog,” Alfred scoffed, raising his brows.
“So?” Allen leaned against the wall behind him. Fishing out a cigarette, he lit the end and took a puff. “If you’re not cops, you’re little people. And if you’re a Mizumoto, you don’t have to be a fucking pig.”
“If we’re going off personal reasons, then there’s nothing wrong with what I’m doing either.”
“You killed thirty-one people that day,” The other snarled. How this guy could preach justice when he had such little regard for human life was beyond him. “And you still didn’t get what you wanted. I would’ve taken that as a sign to move the fuck on.”
“Oh, I was just getting started,” Alfred laughed dryly, watching Allen tense up with unbridled anger. Veins bulged around his neck, and he flushed crimson. “Killing yakuza is what I live for. You and her are the worst class of criminals to walk Los Angeles.”
Allen threw him against the wall.
His entire body pulsed to his rapid heartbeats, and his eyes narrowed with a manic kind of malice.
“I’m warning you, Alfred. Leave her out of this.”
“Or what, you gonna kill me?” He grimaced, never faltering from the threat, nor the chokehold. If Allen wanted to do away with him, or worse, take him in, he would’ve tried harder. But just as he suspected, he didn’t have the power to make that decision.
“Don’t tempt me.”
“What’s stopping you?”
“I don’t have the orders to.”
“Not even to save her?” Alfred shoved him back, his tone thick with scorn. That shut Allen up. He could revel in his lie all he wanted, that he was living a life of freedom and class. But at the end of the day, he was only hired gun. “You really are a lapdog.”
Alfred: Fuck the yakuza. All my homies hate the yakuza
(If you’ve read chapter 14 onwards, it’s safe to read under the cut)
But believe me, you haven’t seen anything yet. I think about the conflict between Alfred and his clone every day. And I think about how they’d clash in a literal clone war. Like, fuck. Not sure if you’ve seen Altered Carbon, but the main protagonist literally just did Rock Paper Scissors to decide which version lives.
#ask answered#thanks for the ask anon!#what makes me human#WMMH#update#edit#remaster#alfredosauce50#hetalia fanfiction#hetalia#hetalia x reader#scifi romance#sci-fi#cyberpunk#cyberpunk 2077
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No. 10 - Poor unfortunate souls
Taser | Whipping | Waterboarding
850 words | OC: Ghost Ambulance
is this a heist au? who knows ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ im also not super happy w/ it esp for a day with such good prompts but once again, and i cannot stress it enough: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ the whump came out good and that's what matters lol
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CN: stun gun use, electrocution, burns
---
Three things happen at once:
The electronic lock beeps an approval.
A voice from behind shouts: "Hands in the air!"
And Cutter spins around to face the security guard, just in time to see her aim.
Then he feels two hits to the chest. He looks down and follows the zig-zagged lines back to the taser gun in the guard's hands. Just in time to see her finger squeeze the trigger.
Every nerve in his body explodes. Muscles lock, wrenching his spine backwards. The current burns through him like a strobe light, pain sizzling away his vision, then hearing, then thoughts. A strangled, guttural groan forces its way out between his clenched teeth that feel like they're going to crack from the strain. Another impact rattles him as his rigid body hits the ground. He's on fire, convulsing, every tendon threatening to snap.
The three seconds stretch to an eternity in Cutter's scorched consciousness. Then the current stops. But his body keeps seizing, his head slams against the ground over and over again as the pain, like an afterimage, remains in his muscles as lethal, excruciating tension. The air cracks like fireworks, the sound of overloading synapses.
He can't tell how long it lasts. It feels like minutes until the blinding fog dissipates and finally he can feel that this battered body is his again. He's gasping, small whimpers escaping his throat with every desperate inhale. His fingers feel slick; he must have clenched his fists hard enough for the nails to draw blood.
Senses return to him like a movie image fading in; it's all there but feels distant, like he's still separated from the lobby by a screen. But he knows there's no time. Pushing through the ache that lingers like a fresh bruise, he turns onto his side. With a groan of effort, he puts a hand underneath him but immediately his head spins. His newly returned vision swims away again and he lays there for a long, painful moment, forcing deep breaths into his lungs. Something stings him right through the ribcage and he realizes the taser's electrodes are still embedded in his chest. They stick out like bizarre insects, framed by rings of dark soot where they have singed his shirt. The thin rigid wires trail down and tangle with each other. The smell of burnt cotton mixes with that of burnt skin.
Cutter winces as another crack pierces through his head, point blank into his eardrum: his comms earpiece, he realizes. The discharge must have fried the electronics. Elaine is going to be so mad.
A gloved hand appears suddenly in front of him. As if summoned, the huntress herself is leaning over him, face haloed by the backlight. Cutter lets her pull him up; everything wobbles around him again but he manages to catch an unsteady balance.
"Are you okay?" Elaine asks, her eyes fixed on the two electrodes sticking out of his chest. That and the gun itself, abandoned on the floor, make the story clear.
"Yeah." It takes him a moment to answer, but it's mostly the truth. His chest aches like he's been punched and his breath comes choppy. He counters Elaine's tense frown with a smile. "How's my hair?"
She raises her eyebrows - and so has to stop frowning. "It's fine. Your shirt is not."
"A good shirt, too," he muses, picking at the charred fabric. From under it shows the angry red of damaged skin which he has no desire to inspect closer. The sight of the electrodes embedded in it makes his head spin again.
When he grabs the first one, Elaine puts a hand on his shoulder blade; bracing. He yanks it out like pulling a tooth, gasps at the sharp pain - but it feels good to toss it away. A tiny ribbon of smoke trails it as it skids across the polished floor.
Cutter's hand wavers when he reaches for the next one. It's instinct, the body refusing to cause itself more pain. The electrode's surface is still hot between his fingers, the sensation blurring together with the burning on his chest. Blood sticks his skin to the barbed metal. Why is this so difficult? He has to close his eyes, slowly exhale so that the dizziness goes away. He grits his teeth and rips the second electrode out with a grunt.
The sudden motion sends him swaying again but Elaine's hands keep him steady. Though any touch feels now like a fresh bruise on his aching body, he leans on her. All he can do is wait until the world stops reeling around him and his vision finally clears. Even then, the ache remains in his limbs like a leaden, sizzling weight. Suddenly, he feels very, very tired.
But looking down at Elaine's questioning, still worried face, he can't help but grin at her. They'll both be fine. How could they not be, when they're here together? A small hitch like this could never be enough to throw them off track. Not them.
He crooks his head towards the newly unlocked door.
"Shall we?"
#whumptober2022#no.10#taser#oc#writing#stun gun#electrocution#captain's stuff#captain's ocs#ghost ambulance#¯\_(ツ)_/¯#<- don't know if i mentioned that#idk if i want this to be an au bc the dynamic between them seems to be 'we've been through so much shit together and we're ride or die#which fits w/ the main canon#but to be frank it would be Very Funny if it was the heist au and they had literally just met#and elaine is like gotta help my fellow heist crew member so we can carry out the plan#but at the same time cutter's like 'f is for friends who steal things together :)'#complete vibe mismatch#for comedy
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//Misc Mara hcs:
Potential to mutate and get her own fuck off half winged... wings. Two black ones (on her left(?) side iirc)
(SOLDIER wide) using magic makes the mako in her eyes glow brighter/'flash' in time with the materia
(SOLDIER wide, ish) She has no problem obtaining(? making?) her own SOLDIER-grade booze, despite it being a restricted substance that requires special licenses to distribute.
Idk what Her fanclub gets up to or called but she sure has one (thx Zack)
F's in chat to her defecting all but immediately after being chosen as new General—means she can't get whiplashed into reflexively responding to the title (unless...)
Always a prop in Shinra's propaganda since... p much ever (graduation into SOLDIER program), but became its sole figurehead in the 5 years since CC/her departure— as a result, she has a weirdly symbiotic relationship with it despite Shinra wanting her dead. She gets to keep them off her tail (for just long enough, at least) when going around picking up misc merc work by delaying rumors etc under guise of 'official business secrecy', they get to keep her as their (token Not Dead) figurehead and keep the resulting PR, recruitment, etc stats. They want her dead, sure, but it'd be bad publicity for them to disavow her, so !
Tends to wear heavy sunglasses (esp when just lurking about) on account of. You know. Mako red eyes being a dead giveaway and kill chances of just staying uninterrupted.
In FF13, she still invented (or at least improved upon it here / the present day model) the FF13 style gunblade. Thorn her bolorbo :)
(In main/FF7 canon, Thorn was developed as a side hobby/passion project—since she couldn't officially use it in-field until she made First Class. Probably worked on drafts etc in training, got it made when she made SOLDIER, and improved upon + finalized the design over time. Practiced with it in her free time. Also, the revolver in Thorn's base isn't for bullets—it's for Materia. :) Allows for both enchanting bullets with magic as well as higher velocity, precision, and longer-ranged spellcasting than freehanded spells.)
Thorn is red (ofc!), with its mechanism for switching between forms calibrated for SOLDIER level strength + force on top, to prevent accidental switching (and slicing). Also, it still has a blade in gun form.
Mara can (not always, but sometimes) calls Thorn 'she'. Bonus points if she admits to it being her pride and joy, etc. (Don't read into it.) ((You should absolutely read into it.))
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New Girl on the Block (3)
(Hey guys! finally got around to posting chapter three of this! There’s a second, mini series connected to this that’s called Journal Entries. You don’t have to read it to understand the plot, but I felt like it would be fun to write so enjoy it if you like!)
Ch. 1 / Ch. 2 / Ch. 4
Chapter 3: There’s a First Time for Everything
Adrien tapped his pencil against his notebook paper and nestled his cheek into his open palm with a sigh. It’s been a little over a week since Marinette exchanged schools, and he’s yet to talk with her about it. He tried visiting her the day Ms. Bustier informed them of the transfer, but Marinette wasn’t home. Naturally, he tried again the next day and actually managed to catch her, but then she ran off. Ran off! Adrien still couldn’t believe it. Why would she run from him?
“Dude, you okay?” Nino asked, giving him a light nudge.
Adrien straightened slightly. “Ah, yeah, just.. Just thinking.”
Alya scoffed behind him. “Don’t tell me you’re still moping about Marinette.”
Needless to say, the class didn’t exactly share Adrien’s sentiment about Marinette’s leaving. With all of Lila’s stories circling around, they were overjoyed that the “bully” was gone. Alya was low-key furious, ranting about “injustices” and “letting Marinette run from the consequences of her actions”, but other than that, everyone was pleased with the outcome.
Everyone except Adrien.
Adrien knew better. The class may think that they’re better off without the bluenette, but he knew for certain that they were all going to drown without her. Marinette organized the budgets, supplied the goods for bake sales, signed off all of the paperwork for their trips- she even made dresses for the girls on special occasions. They needed her. That’s why he had to get her back. If only he could find time out of his packed schedule to visit her again..
“Alright, everyone, settle down.” Ms. Bustier spoke up. “The results for the new class president are in.”
Adrien sunk further into his seat. Ah, yes. The new class president, another reason Marinette should have stayed. With her gone, they had to make an impromptu election. Chloe, of course, ran again, but Lila decided to run as well. With the class’ obvious loyalty towards Lila, it’s a wonder Ms. Bustier didn’t announce the brunette as the president right there and save everyone the trouble.
Ms. Bustier pulled out a small card with the results and cleared her throat. “With a near-unanimous vote, the new class president will be Lila Rossi.”
The class cheered, and Lila gasped as if she hadn’t expected this to happen.
“Thank you all so much!” She beamed.
Alya slung her arm around Lila’s shoulders. “You deserve it, girl.”
Chloe scoffed from her seat and crossed her arms, but no one acknowledged the show of disdain. They were too busy congratulating their beloved Lila.
“Congratulations Lila. You can visit Marinette after school to get the paperwork from her.” Ms. Bustier said, setting her cards aside.
Adrien straightened. Someone had to go visit Marinette? “I’ll do it!”
The classroom paused at the outburst.
“Oh, Adrien you don’t have to do that for me.” Lila remarked with a grateful tone.
“Oh, no, it’s my pleasure.” Adrien was quick to reply.
A hint of annoyance flicked across Lila’s features, but it quickly vanished when Alya said, “Yeah, Lila, you shouldn’t have to suffer through that.”
A smile forced its way onto the Italian girl’s lips. “Thanks, but I think it’s only right that I meet with her in person. Class president to Class president and all.”
Alya frowned. “Well, at least let me go with you. I don’t want her trying to pull anything.”
“Oh, Alya,” Lila sighed, patting the red-head’s hand, “It’s just a small visit. I’m sure Marinette and I can be civil about this.”
Alya reluctantly agreed, but if anyone had actually been paying attention, they might have seen Lila’s smirk.
~~~~~~
The soft rhythm of Felix and Allegra’s instruments floated around the music room as they played. Marinette never imagined the violin and the flute sounding well together, but the way Felix and Allegra harmonized had her swaying back and forth with the melody. It was a lovely song, and she couldn’t help closing her eyes to fully relish the masterpiece.
Her eyes snapped open a second later, though, as her entire body jolted from the large calamity of piano keys that was suddenly pounded on by Claude. Felix startled as well, his violin flying off key, and Allegra nearly dropped her flute.
“Again, Claude?” Allegra sighed, placing her hands on her hips.
Claude leaned back on the piano stool with his palms and flashed them an innocent smile. “What? I was only helping.”
Marinette held back a smile, but Felix wasn’t amused.
“I told you to stop doing that.” He scolded with a scowl. “You’re going to get our music room privileges revoked!”
“Good. You guys practice too much, anyway.”
Allegra gave Claude a flat look. “We need to practice if we’re going to get better.”
“But you already sound great.”
“Because we practice.” Felix replied pointedly.
Marinette subtly nodded in agreement. She didn’t want to get directly involved in their arguments, as that never seemed to go well.
Claude huffed a sigh and rolled his eyes. “Fine. Whatever. Waste your time on endless practice. I’m gonna do something more productive with my time.”
Felix narrowed his eyes. “Like what?”
Claude turned to lay across the piano bench while throwing Marinette a smile. “Like making croissants! We’re still coming to your house, right?”
Marinette returned his smile, secretly relieved that he didn’t ask her to do something outrageous like going to chase pigeons around the park while on roller blades. (Yes, that’s happened several times in the past week, and yes, each time she’s said no.)
“Yeah, but you guys are coming over tomorrow.” She told him.
He pumped a fist into the air. “Yes! I can’t wait!!”
“Neither can I.” Allegra admitted. “Your parents sound splendid.”
Marinette’s smile widened. “I’m sure you’ll all get along great.”
“Yes, I’m sure.. If we can practice enough to go straight to your house after classes tomorrow.” Felix remarked, shooting Claude another look.
Claude tisked, waving a hand at him. “Yeah, yeah. Get back to your music already.”
Allegra gave a short laugh, sarcastically stating, “Oh, thank you so much. I was wondering when you would give us permission to play.”
“I know, I’m such a generous person.” Claude joked back.
Allegra playfully rolled her eyes and held up her flute to resume playing. Felix followed along, and Marinette went back to swaying as their song continued.
-
The familiar ring of the customer bell brought a smile to Marinette’s lips as she opened the bakery door.
Her mother, Sabine, looked up from the cashier desk with a warm smile. “Marinette! How was music practice?”
“It was wonderful, Maman. Felix and Allegra play beautifully.” Marinette answered as she walked inside. She set her bag next to the counter and gave her mother a quick peck on the cheek. “Is everything ready for them to come over tomorrow?”
Sabine nodded. “Tom’s got the ingredients and tables ready for when they get here. He’s so excited to meet them, and so am I.”
Marinette chuckled. “They’re excited to meet you guys too.”
Sabine’s smile widened at the comment, but then her expression darkened as she said, “Hopefully they’re not two-faced and backstabbing like your previous classmates.”
Marinette gasped. “Mom!”
“Well, it’s true!” Sabine replied defensively.
It was true, but that didn’t mean Marinette was any less surprised to hear her maman talk that way. Of course, Sabine did tend to speak her mind when Marinette’s feelings were involved.
Before she could respond, the doorbell rang again, signaling a new customer’s arrival. Marinette turned with her mother to offer them a greeting, but stopped short when she saw exactly who the new customer was.
Lila Rossi stood in the doorway, a smug smirk on her lips as she eyed Marinette up and down. “I see you’re doing well.”
Sabine was in front of Marinette in the blink of an eye. “You are not welcome in this bakery. Leave immediately before I call the cops.”
A look of feigned hurt crossed the Italian girl’s expression. “How rude! I only came here per Mme Bustier’s request. I have to get the formal papers from our previous class president.”
Marinette narrowed her eyes, stepping around Sabine with crossed arms. “I suppose you’re the new class president then?”
Lila’s smile returned, sharp and triumphant. “By a near-unanimous vote. Alya is still the deputy though, since she practically begged me to let her help.”
Marinette’s lips tightened into a thin line. That sounded about right. “How nice for you. You two really do deserve each other.”
When Lila first came around, Marinette had been torn and heartbroken about her friends abandoning her for a stranger. It didn’t help that Adrien kept assuring her that everything would be fine, that they didn’t mean what they said. He gave her false hope, and it made it all the harder to find the courage to leave.
Now, she’s realized how toxic her old environment had become, and though it still hurt her to think about it, Marinette knew she couldn’t let them affect her anymore.
Lila faltered at Marinette’s uncaring tone. “Uh.. right. Where are those papers again?”
“Up in my room.” Marinette moved towards the stairs, bringing Sabine back behind the counter as she did. “I’ll go get them now.”
“Good.” Lila said, sounding satisfied. “I’ll be waiting outside, but don’t take your time. I’m supposed to go meet Alya and the girls for a girl’s night out.”
Marinette rolled her eyes at the obvious jab, but continued up the stairs anyway. The sooner she got the papers, the sooner that lying leech could leave.
She swiftly ran up to her room and gathered the papers to stuff them into the large, blue binder she’d been given only two semesters ago. It sunk into her arms as she picked it up, and the sheer weight of the packed binder made her smile as she brought it back outside, especially when she saw Lila’s panicked expression.
“Um.. What is that?” The brunette asked, pointed at the binder.
“Oh, this?” Marinette replied innocently. “This is just the binder that holds all the formal papers you need. Being class president takes a lot of work you know.”
Lila nearly toppled over when Marinette dropped the binder into her arms.
“That’s allergies, budgets, complaints, schedules, and trips!” Marinette told her with a grin. “But don’t forget to give Mme Bustier and Principle Damocles the proper reports each semester.”
Lila shot her a scowl, but quickly recovered, slipping on a smile of her own. “No need to be petty, Marinette. It’s fine to admit you’re breaking inside. Losing all your friends can be a hard thing to go through.”
Marinette’s grin faded slightly, knowing that Lila was right. She’d lost everything. All of her childhood friends, her crush, her fun teachers, anything she used to hold dear.
But maybe that was a good thing.
“Have fun sorting through the binder.” She said, spinning on her heel and walking inside. She had better things to do than listen to someone who had to lie just to get people to like them.
The bakery door closed behind her, and Marinette saw Lila leave out of the corner of her eye, taking the painful memories with her.
~~~~~~
Friday afternoon. 4:45pm.
Felix stared at the bakery door, unsure how to proceed. The group had originally agreed to walk straight to Marinette’s house after school, but they changed the plan last minute to come back at five, an hour after school ended. It gave Marinette’s parents time to finish up the preparations, and the rest of the group time to drop off their school bags at their homes.
Felix, as usual, arrived at the Dupain-Cheng’s early, but now he was doubting his actions. On one hand, he would get to meet the Dupain-Cheng’s without the chaos that the trio tended to bring. It would be a nice way for him to get a quick impression of the family over-all.
On the other hand, he’s at Marinette’s house before the time she specifically told them to come, which could be considered rude in some cases. Should he go inside or wait in a nearby cafe?
After a few more minutes of debating, Felix stepped forward and knocked on the door. If they really needed him to wait until five, he would apologize and come back in ten minutes. The opportunity to meet the Dupain-Cheng’s on a one-on-one basis was too good to pass up.
It only took a moment for the door to open, and a short, asain woman greeted him with a sweet smile. “Hello! I’m assuming you’re one of Marinette’s friends from school?”
Felix nodded, noting her raven hair that matched Marinette’s perfectly. “Yes, ma’am. I’m Felix.”
He stiffened slightly when she reached forward to take his hand in both of hers. “It’s great to finally meet you! Marinette has told us so much about you all.”
A small smile passed his lips. For some reason, that knowledge gave him a satisfied feeling. Assuming that the talk was good, that is. “She’s talked a lot about you as well. I’m assuming you’re Mme Dupain-Cheng?”
The woman waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, please, call me Sabine.”
‘Sabine’ showed him inside, where baked goods lined the walls in glass cases. Claude was going to lose his mind when he got here. The overwhelming scent of vanilla and cinnamon alone was going to be enough to make the brunette’s mouth water.
“This is my husband, Tom.” Sabine introduced, gesturing to a tall, burly man at the cashier desk. “Tom, this is one of Marinette’s friends, Felix.”
Felix would be lying if he said he wasn’t intimidated by the man. His head almost grazed the ceiling as he approached them, making Sabine look like a dwarf in comparison. Felix felt like a dwarf in comparison.
Tom offered a wide, hearty grin, though that didn’t help Felix’s unease. “Ah, Felix! It’s a pleasure to finally meet you!”
The man scooped Felix up into a bear hug, squeezing him tightly to his chest. Felix would have replied to his greeting had he been able to breathe.
“Oh, Papa!”
Felix glanced over Tom’s shoulder- he’d been raised that high -and saw Marinette standing in another doorway behind the cashier counter, a slight cringe in her expression.
“Papa, put poor Felix down before he passes out from lack of oxygen!” She insisted, walking forward to tug on her father’s arm.
“Oh that’s.. That’s a bit of an exaggeration, don’t you think?” Felix wheezed as Tom set him down.
Marinette’s hands hovered around him for a moment, then she nervously clasped them together. “I-I’m so sorry, I should have warned you. I thought I was going to be down here when you guys arrived.”
Felix shook his head and bent over slightly to catch his breath. “No, no, you’re fine. They actually remind me of my own mother. She’s a rather adamant hugger herself.”
A relieved smile came to Marinette’s lips. “Really? I didn’t think anyone could be as ‘homely’ as my parents.”
Felix chuckled, but the customer bell jingled again before he could reply. Claude sauntered inside a second later, his arms spread as wide as his grin.
“We’re here~!” The brunette sang, looking around the shop. His gaze found Felix’s flat one almost immediately.
“Hey!” Claude gasped, pointing accusingly at Felix. “He beat us here!”
Allegra stepped out from behind Claude, wearing a curious expression. That quickly changed to knowing smirk, though, as she shot him a playfully scolding look. “Why, Felix! I’m surprised at you! You should know more than anyone how rude it is to arrive at someone’s house early.”
Felix grimaced at the reminder of his bad manners and quickly turned to apologize.
“Oh don’t be silly!” Sabine said before he could get a word out. “Any friends of Marinette are friends of ours. You guys are welcome here anytime.”
Claude lit up at the sentiment. “I’m gonna be here a lot then.”
Allan popped out from behind Claude and Allegra. “Thank you for hosting us, M. and Mme Dupain-Cheng.”
Felix held back a smirk. He’d wondered when Allan would show himself.
“Please, call us Tom and Sabine.” Tom replied in a casual, yet booming voice. It highly contradicted his wife and daughter, who tended to speak in soft tones. “Follow me. I’ll show you where the kitchen is.”
The group was led into a room in the back where three islands stood in the center, each equally parted from each other. A large counter lined the wall to the left as well, and two, large ovens sat on each end of said counter.
“Do you guys want to start from scratch or start with pre-made dough?” Tom asked.
“Oh! Scratch! I want to be able to make these at home!” Claude answered eagerly.
Tom smiled. “Alright! Scratch it is. Everyone take the needed ingredients on the counter.”
The group took a moment to pass around the items, then they separated to find a counter. Allan took the first counter with Tom, and Allegra and Claude stole the last counter, leaving the middle counter for Marinette and Felix.
“I’m glad you guys got to come.” Marinette commented as they aligned their ingredients on the shared countertop.
Felix nodded. “I think Claude’s going to get a sugar-crash before we leave.”
Marinette snorted. “With all of those baked goods in the other room? I’d be surprised if he makes it to supper.”
Felix spared her a glance. “Are we staying for supper?”
Marinette paused, having to think out her answer. She must not have noticed the implication when she said it. “Uh.. I mean.. I wouldn’t mind. Do you guys want to stay for supper?”
Felix shrugged, though the idea sounded perfect. It would give him more time to understand the Dupain-Cheng’s lifestyle. “I’m sure Allegra and Claude will be ecstatic over the news. I’d have to contact my mother about the change in schedule, though.”
“Oh, were you planning something with her tonight?” Marinette asked, worry lacing her tone. “You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.”
“No, I want to.” Felix hastily amended. “I simply need to tell my mother that I won’t be home for supper tonight. We always have a family dinner when everyone is available.”
“And you won’t miss it?”
“Well, it sounds like it’s a special occasion, but everyone’s available more often than you’d expect.”
Marinette tilted her head up and mouthed an ‘oh’. “I’ll tell Maman that you’re staying, then. She was sort of planning supper for all of you anyway.”
Felix smiled. Given the daily croissants that the group’s received since their first lunch with Marinette, that didn’t surprise him. Mme Sabine had proven to be an extremely kind and charitable person, much like her daughter.
Tom, once his own ingredients were in order, regained the room’s attention and began showing them how to make the croissants. Because he was in the front, it was easy to see how the ingredients were supposed to be thrown in and follow along. That said, Felix found himself extremely grateful to have Marinette as a partner. Her little tips on how to mix the dough helped him immensely, especially since she told him when his mixing was sufficient.
“Alright,” Tom sighed as he set his bowl to the side, “Now that the dough is done, we’re going to start the hard part. Everyone needs to get some flour so we can start rolling the dough and folding it. Marinette, if you would.”
Marinette sprang from her place next to Felix and crossed the room to a cabinet. She pulled it open and grabbed a large bag of flour that appeared to be at least a fourth full, then carried it to the long counter against the wall and set it down with a huff.
“Here’s the flour that you all are going to be using.” Tom explained. “That should be plenty, but if you need more-”
A light knock on the doorframe ahead of them caused Tom to trail off. Felix glanced at the door to see Mme Sabine standing there, holding a sheepish smile.
“Tom, dear. I know you’re busy, but could you help me with this customer real quick?” She asked politely. “They’re being.. difficult.”
Felix noted the sharpness of her smile, along with the iron grip she had on the doorframe. It appeared that the sweet, loving mother also had a temperance, though he didn’t blame her. Customers had a tendency to be massive pains for retail workers. (That included himself on a few shameful occasions.)
M. Tom’s nervous smile said it all as he joined his wife at the door. “Oh, of course. Uh.. children, just- just keep doing what you’re doing. Marinette will show you how to roll the dough if necessary.”
The parents left the room, causing the rest of the group to turn to Marinette for instruction.
Marinette, who had returned to Felix’s side by that point, shrank slightly at the sudden attention. “Oh, uhm.. Do any of you know how to fold dough?”
A short laugh came from Allegra in the back. “Mari, I’m quite certain that none of us have even touched uncooked food before.”
“That’s the price you pay for being rich.” Allan agreed, putting a hand to his chest and shaking his head with feigned grief.
Felix opted not to comment. His mother rather enjoyed cooking, much to their butler’s dismay. She often cooked their family meals, and every now and then, Felix found himself helping. “It’s a necessary skill.” she would tell him. “Your future wife will thank me and so will you.”
Why his mother assumed he would be able to tolerate anyone long enough to marry them was beyond him.
“Oh, how horrible for you.” Marinette retorted with a playful eye roll. “I guess I’ll show you how to fold dough then. For your sakes.”
“We are forever grateful.” Claude joked.
Marinette laughed and scooped up her bowl, bringing it to the front with Allan for all of them to see.
“Now, everyone needs to get some flour. We’ll start with Claude and Allegra getting some. That way, the flour will work its way to the front by the time we’re done.” She instructed.
Felix nodded. That sounded like a reasonable plan.
Claude walked over to grab the bag as told and hauled it back to his and Allegra’s table. “How much are we going to need?”
“Oh, not much.” Marinette answered. “You only need some on the table and some on the dou- Claude, wait!”
Claude tipped the bag of flour upwards, expecting it to slide smoothly onto the table. Instead, the flimsy ingredient smacked into the table in a large clump, causing white dust to explode into the air. Felix scrunched up his nose in annoyance. How were they supposed to mix that? How easily did it spread? He knew he should have worn something less formal. (Oh, who was he kidding? Felix didn’t have anything less formal.)
An apologetic whimper came from Marinette, as if any of this was her fault. Claude and Allegra quickly fell into a coughing fit as Claude dropped the flour bag onto the ground. Of course, dropping the bag only threw more dust into the air.
The two attempted to wave the dust away, but it only partly worked. When the dust did finally clear, though, Claude and Allegra were left with a small pile of flour on their table. The rest of the flour was either in the air or draped across their clothes and hair.
“Wow.” Felix stated dryly. “I’m impressed. You actually managed to wait until M. Tom left before making a complete mess of yourselves and the room.”
“Yeah, yeah, laugh it u-” Claude’s retort was cut off by another coughing fit, but Allegra continued it for him.
“I don’t see you rolling out your dough in a perfectly clean and pristine manner.”
“That’s because you used up the rest of the flour.” Felix shot back.
Marinette gasped. “Is it really all gone?”
Claude and Allegra, suddenly dawning a sheepish expression, looked down at the bag that was still on the floor. Claude reached down to pick it up, but, as if the situation weren’t bad enough already, he grabbed the wrong end and pulled it up upside down.
The last bits of flour trickled to the floor, spreading across the brunette’s legs.
“...Yeah. It’s all-” He let out another cough “-gone.”
Allan’s eyes widened, a mixture of admiration and mortification swirling onto his features. “How did you waste an entire bag of flour on one spill?”
“You’d be surprised.” Marinette muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose.
“We can reimburse you.” Allegra was quick to offer. “How much did the flour cost? Do you take checks?”
A light chuckle fell from Marinette’s lips. “No, no, that’s not necessary. I’ve.. actually done worse.”
Claude’s eyes bulged out of his head. “You’ve done worse?”
Felix thought over the many falls that Marinette had had over the past week. Her clumsiness certainly made it possible to have more extreme accidents.
“What do we do now that the flour is gone?” He asked, trying to get the group back on track. The sooner they finished baking the croissants, the sooner he could examine the rest of Marinette’s house instead of sitting in the kitchen. The Dupain-Chengs appeared to be a lively, fun-loving family, but he’d only gotten a small taste of their life, only seen the tip of the iceberg. Felix wanted to absorb as many details as possible before leaving.
Marinette straightened. “Oh! There’s actually more flour in the back! I’ll go get it.”
Before Felix could offer any assistance- his curiosity piqued about where they might store more food -the ravenette had already left the room, disappearing through another doorway in the back.
A moment later, she returned, another large bag of flour in her hands. This time, however, the bag was full. Felix vaguely wondered how heavy the bags must weigh for her to be wobbling over with one so easily. Wasn’t flour supposed to be heavy?
“Here’s a fresh bag of flo-ou-ah!” Marinette’s words jumbled into jargon when her foot caught on her ankle. Her body lunged forward from the momentum, and Felix stepped up to catch her on reflex.
Bad idea.
Due to the weight of the flour bag yanking her downwards, Marinette crashed into Felix’s and dragged him to the floor with her. His back hit the floor with a painful *thud*, immediately sucking all of the air from his lungs.
Of course, the flour bag popped open upon impact, sending more white dust directly into his face. Between the weight of Marinette and the flour, along with his aching lungs and the suffocating dust, Felix was convinced that he was about to die right then and there on the bakery floor.
Felix Culpa: tragically taken from this world by a bag of flour and a clumsy classmate. What a way to go.
“Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry, Felix. Are you okay??” Marinette asked frantically, pushing herself off of him.
Felix coughed out a weak response with what little oxygen he had. Even without Marinette, the flour bag pressed into his chest like a block of concrete. How had she been carrying this without breaking a sweat earlier?
Marinette hauled the bag off of him, and Felix sucked in a deep breath despite the flour still cluttering the atmosphere. All he needed right now was some sweet, blessed air. Infected or no.
It wasn’t until he regained enough of his senses to push himself up into a sitting position that he heard Claude’s howling laughter.
“Oh, man!” The brunette cackled. “And you thought we were bad! Look at you, Fe! You’re a ghost!”
Felix glanced down at his clothes, which were indeed covered in white. He could even feel the weight of the flour in his hair. How long was this going to take to wash out? Was he going to have to buy new clothes before going home?
A snort brought his gaze upwards, where Marinette stood with the bag of flour. She had a hand on her mouth- holding the bag of flour with one hand -and a barely contained smile on her lips that she was obviously trying to hide.
That’s when Felix knew that he must be looking ridiculous.
“At least I wasn’t the one to cause the mess.” Felix grumbled in response to Claude. He reached up to start brushing some of the flour out of his hair, finding a bit of comfort in the fact that Marinette was white with flour as well. It might have been irksome if she had escaped her fall unscathed while he appeared to be a freshly made snowman.
“I am. So sorry.” Marinette apologized again, this time offering him her hand to help him up.
Felix took it, his bafflement towards her uncanny amount of strength only growing as she managed to pull him up with one arm and keep the bag of flour steady in her other arm.
“It’s..” not your fault. Was what he was about to say, except that would be a lie. It was entirely her fault.
“It’s fine.” He said instead. “It’s just clothes.”
“Wow~” Allegra sang, immediately latching onto Felix’s nerves. “‘It’s just clothes’? That’s a first.”
“Remember that time Felix threatened to sue us for enough money to buy a new wardrobe if we ‘got so much as one drop of food on his vest’?” Allan chimed in.
Embarrassment coiled around Felix’s stomach, though he wasn’t sure why. That designer outfit was expensive! And the trio was acting especially chaotic that day. Who knows what might have happened had he not put his foot down when they started joking about a food fight.
Felix whipped around to Allan to explain that exact reasoning, but something caught his attention, causing him to pause. Allan was still at the front of the room, the farthest position from the chaos that had just ensued. Aside from the stray dust still fluttering around the room, the man was completely untouched as far as flour was concerned.
“Marinette,” He said, catching the girl’s eye, “I do believe that Allan hasn’t gotten his flour yet.”
Marinette’s gaze flicked to Allan, then to the bag, and Felix prayed that he assessed her correctly. Because if Allan didn’t get flour on him this instant, Felix might be tempted to do something foolish. Like attempting to throw a bag of flour that was, without a doubt, too heavy for him to even lift on his own.
The barest hints of amusement lit up Marinette’s features. “You know what? I think you’re right.”
Felix smiled, feeling a devilish satisfaction. Yes!
Allan took a step back, suddenly looking very concerned.
“Woah, w-wait a second, guys.” He squeaked, holding up his hands as Marinette inched forward. “L-Let’s talk about this!”
“One of us. One of us.” Claude began chanting behind them. “One of us! One of us!”
Allegra joined in, and, in the spirit of things, Felix joined in as well, if only to push Marinette further towards his goal.
Allan bumped into his assigned counter while trying to put useless distance between himself and Marinette. “Please, no! It’s rare that I come out of these things unscathed!”
Marinette’s grin was downright predatory as she held up the bag of flour. “I can’t imagine why.”
Allan’s scream was the last thing Felix heard before Marinette swung the flour bag forward.
The entire room erupted into uncontrollable laughter as Allan coughed out at least half the bag. He was now stark white from head to toe, and Felix couldn’t be prouder. It served him right for poking the bear.
Allan hung his head in defeat, a bit of flour falling off of his head from the action. This only made the group laugh harder. Claude started to say something about the “set being complete”, but before he could finish-
“What is going on?!”
M. Tom reappeared in the doorway, his eyes wide and puzzled as he stared at the flour-covered room.
Felix froze. Right. They were supposed to be baking with Marinette’s parents.
Marinette set the flour bag down immediately. “I’m sorry, Papa, this is all my fault.”
“No, that’s not fair!” Claude protested. “Allegra and I spilled the flour bag first!”
“So she had to go get more!” Allegra continued the explanation.
“I’m the one who told her to throw the fresh flour at Allan.” Felix added. If anyone was to get in trouble, it should certainly be him. He was the only one who actually spilled the flour on purpose. Marinette didn’t deserve to take the blame for his petty actions.
M. Tom furrowed at the near-simultaneous remarks, but then let out a hearty laugh.
“I see you’ve all gotten into the baking spirit!” He declared. “Now who wants to learn how to actually fold dough?”
Felix blinked. He’d expected the man to be at least a little upset. Did this sort of thing happen often? Or was Marinette’s father simply that forgiving? M. Tom did refer to the mess as ‘the baking spirit’.. Whatever that means.
“Yeah we do!” Claude shouted enthusiastically, taking Felix from his thoughts.
“Great! Let’s start with putting the flour on the table.” Tom smiled, going back to his original spot next to Allan.
Felix followed the notion, going back to his original spot as well. He tried brushing more of the flour off of his vest, but, as expected, it didn’t help much. He was probably going to get more flour on him during the folding process anyway.
“Don’t worry.” Marinette whispered as she reclaimed her spot next to him. “I’ll let you guys wash up in the bathroom after this. If you want to, that is.”
Felix nodded. “I would be eternally grateful.”
Marinette giggled. “..So did you really threaten to sue them over your clothes?”
Felix paused his kneading long enough to sigh. Freaking Allan. That idiot deserved every speck of flour dust that he had on him.
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honestly i’m out here thinking so hard n with such a dead look on my face the fact that most of darcy’s injuries throughout the story involve his heart and/or the clockface that replaced his heart. bc the other wonderlandians KNOW the red queen tore his heart from his chest so when they fight him they ACTIVELY aim for that clockface on his chest.
9 times out of 10 if someone is striking darcy, it’s going to be shoving a blade through his clockwork heart or trying to shatter the face of the clock. esp if it’s a character like cecil who is inarguably the most brutal only beaten out by valentin (who would be on darcy’s side, so isn’t relevant) and beatrice (bc duh, the Big Bad)
like ??? it’s a reality for darcy that he has a very blatant, visible weakness no matter how he covers it or tries to keep it concealed bc him getting his heart ripped out was a PUBLIC spectacle.
and yeah! he got his revenge for that! he ripped out the red queen’s eye and fed it to the bandersnatch in retaliation! he left a VERY VISIBLE mark on her face for the rest of wonderland to see, but beatrice doesn’t have to stand in the middle of the war + in the jabberwocky’s path like he does.
this is a pointless ramble i’m just :( bc darcy rlly plays into that trope of having so much love in him, but he’s literally heartless (and on the verge of being soulless) and all his enemies exploit that bc all of wonderland knows 🥴
addendum also the fact he tries to take most if not all hits directed towards alice when possible even knowing this :breathes in:
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Ice || Levi Ackerman × Fem!Reader [Modern Figure Skating AU]
Disclaimer: I have zilch knowledge about skating other than falling on my ass. Instead, I will base the commentaries on my memory of performances! ( esp Yuzuru Hanyu's and Michelle Khare's documentary on the sport )
~ Please don’t repost or copy and paste!
~ this work is the property of the blog paramisgwilwileth
-×- [Figure Skating Levi owo] -×-
[Y/N]
The sheet of Ice felt foreign under the blades of her boots, gripping the bars by the edge of the rink she pushed herself forwards, feeling the blades swiftly slide through the ice creating lines upon lines. The young lady giggled as she remembers her early years falling butt-first on the thick ice- freezing her legs and fingers to the point of numbing.
It has been almost a year since she felt the comforting cold of the rink, almost a year since she's physically heard the familiar scratch of the metal blades scraping on the Ice - Almost a year since she performed with him.
Come to think of it, she heard that he continued Skating alone- solo, did he still train in the same Rink as they once did, or did he change to somewhere else he much preferred to be in? The last time she heard from him was months ago, when he monotonously asked about her condition- as if she succumed to a disease or a virus .
Zephyrus, spectators called him- it made her snicker the only thing gentle and light with him was his hair, his personality was harsh, he was quick and steady on the ice- quite unpredictable and icy, she was the only one who could pair up with him.
The only one who could pair up with him... Huh.
She pursed her lips in disdain, feeling her leg and remembering her injury- she was too clumsy, too awkward, and too immature in the rink.
Her injury almost cost her Her career, being unable to utilize her left leg properly for months was a huge drawback especially with her sport- the months of Physical Therapy and back-to-basic training placed a temporary stopper on her ability to skate as she did before.
If only she had checked her gear twice that night, she could still be competing today.
She missed feeling his hands on her hips, guiding her every move and twist- she missed his smirk and his constant complaints on her form. She missed how he looked so unbothered but was the first to help her up when she fell in the ice.
She missed Levi Ackerman, and she's gonna train harder to climb back up just to dance with him again.
"Oi Brat." a voice called by the edge of the rink, echoeing slightly through the empty stadium. "You're gonna fall with that footing."
She grinned turning around to face his frown with a bright smile, her heart was thumping inside, she hoped that his was too.
"Good Morning Levi!" the young woman chirped gliding acros the ice to meet him by the entrance.
"Are you here to mentor me?"
"No."
"Eh? Then why are you here?"
"To train, brat- this is my rink too."
"Hmm... I thought you transferred locations?"
The young man just shrugged at her, stepping onto the cold surface and swiftly glided through it - he was like a swan- so graceful, so beautiful. With just one fell swoop the woman's jaw fell, staring at whom once was her partner as he cut through the ice with utmost lightness.
" Tch, are you not going to move?" he scoffed, his blades skidding againt the ice as he stopped in front of her.
" I am , I was just watching you." [Y/N] grinned ,slowly moving her feet , and in a teasing manner said; " We used to practice with music here, have you gotten too silent?"
Levi shook his head, his stray strands of hair that framed his features swaying along with the minimal movement, scoffing as he approached the edge once more and switching the speakers on, handing her his phone .
" Don't drop it."
" No promises." she grinned, sticking her tongue out at him, looking down on his phone - even his phone reeks of his wonderful scent- she shook her head, finally picking a song and placing his phone on top of the speaker as she went back into the rink.
Dancing Bears, Painted Wings, Things I almost remember...
[Y/N] felt a smile creep up her face, slowly gliding through following the sway of the music , dancing to her hearts desire along with its' tempo .
And a song someone sings, Once upon a December.
Unbeknownst to her, Levi had halted in his routine- his eyes trailing over her as she became one with the music.
This song... was familiar to him, the ringing his ears from its chimes felt warm, what memory was this from?
Someone holds me safe and warm.
Horses prance through a silver storm.
Oh...This was the song they first danced to, the song they won medals with- it was her favourite.
Figures dancing gracefully across my memory.
Levi licked his lips- which have slightly dried from the cold air.
Someone holds me safe and warm.
The male shook his head as she stopped, refusing to do a jump, smiling to himself as he approached her. Gently placing his hand on her shoulder and turning her around to face him.
Horses prance through a silver storm...
"You seem tense..." He hummed leaning close to her, his lips slightly brushing against her cheek causing her to blush slightly. "You should be at ease here, listen to your heartbeat."
[Y/N] bit her lip, trying to calm her red cheeks and inhaled deeply through her nose, moving her feet and properly opening her hips to allow better movement.
Figures dancing gracefully...
"I've missed you." she mumbled squeezing his gloved hand with her own, pursing her lips as they did the routine around the perimeter of the rink- her heart beating fast as he placed his hands on her waist- her breath hitching slightly as he tilted her chin up to meet his dark orbs.
He leaned in close, smirking slightly as he parted his lips.
"May I?"
[Y/N] gave one nod, her lips parted slightly as she gaped at his actions- him closing the gap between them with his soft lips against her lips- the Ice didn't seem so intimidating anymore.
Across my Memory...
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HELLO!
Hi!
I'm sorry I wasn't able to update for almost a week ;¬; school was hard and our Profs piled activitied upon activities.
No matter! I'll try to update as frequently as I can in the following weeks!
Please don't forget to vote or Comment so I can see if theres Improvements to be made- also don't forget that requests are open!
- MK 🦉
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bonus pic
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I'm really curious about "The Boy Who Braids, He Dreams in Red" :D
@musetta3 wanted to know about the same one!
So my first DA game was Inquisition, and like a lot of folks who played that one first, I was charmed by Cullen's bumbling romance (esp after Solas smashed my stupid little heart). My last foray in creative writing had been elementary school, and I'd never written fanfic at ALL, but when I was rambling to a friend about how I wanted more of that romance, they suggested I try writing about it and I did!
The longfic I'm working on now actually had about 40 chapters of a completely different iteration already written. It was initially very soft and saccharine, and an outlet for the romance I craved in my own life at the time. I remember reading about Cullen's misdeeds not long after playing Inquisition, and feeling frustrated that others' perception of his character was so different from the character I knew in DAI. He struck me as a tortured soul, someone who wanted so badly to be good! When I read further and watched scenes from previous games, I knew I wanted to write a solid redemption arc for him, if for no other reason than to align the character in my head with the one on the page. Then that good ol' depression hit, and I stowed my story in a faraway folder and left it collecting virtual dust for almost two years.
I picked up where I left off and wrote a few more chapters, but something didn't feel right. The characters and their stories had time to marinate in my daydreams, and they'd grown more complex than what I'd written. Shielan wasn't a soft sweetie in search of romance, and Cullen wasn't able to earn her forgiveness as easily. My writing skills also improved, and when I went back to re-read those early chapters, I didn't feel they were reflective of what I'd learned. I tried editing and re-editing until something clicked, but eventually I realized the best option was for me to start fresh. Most peoples' eyes bug out of their head when I tell them I scrapped a 40 chapter fic but I'm so glad I did because my story is better for it (and I'm a better writer for it too!)
I'm glad y'all picked this one, because although I'm a wee bit sheepish about it's syrupy sweetness, it gave me the chance to see how much my writing has improved and to appreciate the complexity I've added to my characters since I first began. Anyway, thanks for reading my monologue! There's a snippet of the writing itself under the cut for anyone curious.
I'm very into the dark, brooding but good-of-heart archetype, and I leaned on this heavily in the first iteration of this fic. In this chapter, we have a classic bed-sharing scenario, and the also classic nightmare comfort scenario smushed into one.
***
Everything was steeped in crimson. The shapes, the people, the demons and their screams, all of it red. His throat felt tight and sore as though he were being choked, skin prickly and hot. The nightmares came regularly, but this one was particularly brutal. He shook in his sleep, mumbling and cursing under his breath. As the nightmare progressed his voice grew louder and drew the attention of a sleeping Shielan.
She sat up in bed and lit the candle next to her, taking a moment to let her eyes adjust. Once they'd focused she could see the commander shivering beneath his blanket. She reached for a tin of water nearby and felt around inside the bedside drawer for a piece of cloth to dampen. Cloth in one hand, candle in the other, she climbed down from bed and knelt beside him. His arms were making bigger gestures now, vocalizations becoming more frantic. Just as she moved to press the cold cloth against his forehead he shot up. One arm reached back for his blade but she caught it firmly.
"Cullen!" she barked.
His eyes flew open and he gripped her shoulders tightly, struggling to catch his breath. He willed himself to speak or move, but his body refused, paralyzed by fear. She spoke to him in hushed tones, told him he was safe and everything was alright.
"I've frightened you," he breathed. "I'm so sorry."
"Don't be," she replied.
She found the cold, damp cloth and dabbed at the beads of sweat that had formed over his furrowed brows. Cullen took it from her hand and gave his face a rough scrub. He was still shaking, his chest heaving as it tried to take in even breaths. Shielan passed him the tin of water and he downed what was left in one smooth gulp. He turned to face the opposite wall, leaning against the bed and letting his head fall back, eyes closed.
"Are you alright?" she asked.
"Not exactly," he replied, massaging his temples. A splitting headache had begun to creep up through the back of his skull.
"You should try to go back to sleep, perhaps in your bed this time."
He nodded, and they climbed in, one after the other, rearranging pillows and blankets to suit their new shared space. His headache was getting worse, and he was exhausted, but too anxious to sleep. Shielan could feel the tension coming off him, the pain he was projecting onto the atmosphere. She pivoted to face him.
"I can help," she said, taking his face in her hands before he had the chance to protest.
It was cool and crisp this time, the current emanating from her fingertips. He closed his eyes and shivered as relief made its way through his bones, down his spine, settling into his chest. Breaths came and went a bit easier now and he started to feel more steady.
"Thank you," he said.
Although the spell had run its course, her hands had not yet left his face. He opened his eyes to meet her gaze, and her heartbeat quickened. Her own breaths had become ragged now, and her palms started to sweat. The urge to move closer to him was overwhelming, but she felt stuck.
Cullen wrapped his hands around her wrists, letting his thumbs caress the soft skin on the tops of her hands. A tentative smile spread across his face, cheeks red again. He pulled her hands from his face and held them in the air as she weaved her fingers between his, interlocking them in a gentle hold. She braced her shoulder against the headboard and he turned his body to face her, releasing one shaky hand and bringing it up to stroke her cheekbone. A sigh left her lips at his feather light touch. She leaned forward and he followed. They stopped when their foreheads touched, each feeling the other's breath tickle their face.
***
And yes, I am going to leave you hanging, because I still haven't written Shielan and Cullen's "real" first kiss yet, and that is the one I want you to see!
#asks#dragon age#my writing#my goofy ass writing lmao#it's wild how much it's improved and i'm so glad i took time to hone this skill
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Follow up of Adeleines opinions on the helpers :) (stuff in parenthesis is the ability they have)
Blade Knight (Sword): 7/10 Mysterious little dude:
He’s cool! He’s kinda hard to understand at times (he’s got a thick accent, idk what kind), but he’s very nice! He’s got a lot of standards when it comes to swordsmanship and is very strong! He’s working on showing Adeleine the proper stances for sword fighting (it’s possible for her to emulate that style with her paintbrush, minus the cutting ability of a real sword).
Chilly (Ice): 9/10 Snowed Man!!
Snowed man friend!!!! He’s very serious about things but he’s a good friend! Only problem is he has to stick around Adeleines Ice Dragon drawing to prevent the poor guy from melting (they’re working on finding an eternal ice that won’t melt so he can stay cold!). He likes to make snow cones!!! (Which are hella good btw)
Bio spark (Ninja): 8/10 Speedy!!!
One of the fastest helpers around! They’re speedy, sneaky, and all around a mysterious little dude! They have a habit of showing up so quietly that nobody notices for a good couple minutes before they’re just like “I wasn’t even hiding I’ve been standing here this whole time.” Overall, odd but kind little friend!
Birdon (Wing): 7/10 Soft birdie!!!
They’re just a little birdie!!! Birdons probably the most carefree helper out of the bunch, and they like relaxing really high up (much to Adeleines dismay). They tend to make stuff out of the feathers they shed (and they shed very often), so they’re always giving friends bracelets, headgear, jewelry, and such made out of their feathers. Adeleine actually has a coat lined with their feathers and it’s SUPER warm! They’re a little strange (and Kawasaki keeps trying to cook them [see: Star Allies title screen skits]) but they’re a wonderful buddy!
Wester (Whip): 9/10 Yeehaw man!!!!
Dude is legit just a very small cowboy. He cannot help his smallness... He’s agile and absolutely has an accent when he talks. He’s a little chaotic, but has a good heart. Probably taught Adeleine how to mount and ride a grizzo just for fun. She’s got a cowboy hat he made for her!
Plugg (Plasma): 10/10 Old friend!
She’s known Plugg since Crystal Shards! The two are good friends and Plugg likes to paint with her! He’s got some... interesting ways of painting (sticking his entire face into paint and then running facedown on the canvas), but he’s a lovely friend! He likes to run around a lot tho, probably because he’s constantly generating electricity and needs to burn it off so it doesn’t overload him. Will absolutely charge electrical devices without a second thought.
Como (Spider): 6/10 Spider...
While they’re similar to Taranza, they have a lot more spider tendencies, and therefore kinda scared Adeleine. She’s tolerable of them (more so than Susie), but tries to keep her distance. They’re helpful and are very very very sweet!!! They just tend to do creepy spider things and it freaks her out...
Bugzzy (Suplex): 7/10 Massive bug dude
He’s like... huge. Closer to, if not taller, than Adeleines height. He has very sharp pincers on the front of his face, and they can be painful when used, so he either wraps them in bandaging or puts rubber caps over them! That way he can grab and hold friends without harm! He’s oddly cuddly and likes to carry people around (not neccisarily throwing them) in his pincers. Overall, big doofus bug who has lots of love.
Broom Hatter (Clean): 8/10 Clean freak
Literally cannot handle dirty shit. At all. Has the urge to clean everything. Perks are that they keep the base everyone hangs out in super duper clean! Adeleines taught them to draw and it helps them not want to compulsively clean everything. They make really pretty art!
Poppy Bros Jr. (Bomb): 9/10 Funky lad!
He’s got an older brother of the same name (Poppy Bros Sr.) and he’s a boss in training! One day he hopes to be just as good as his brother! Dude is ultra high energy (which is why he’s always hopping around) and tends to be a little obnoxious. They can’t entirely help it, they’re just energetic! They’ve taught Adeleine how to yeet explosives and she’s genuinely good at it!
Rocky (Stone): 7/10 He is literally just a rock
Sentient rock! He’s a little slow and can’t really talk, but he’s a buddy! He likes to just turn into his stone form and just sit like that. It’s comfy and feels like home to him. Will not hesitate to use himself as a step or a seat for someone if needed. He also gives everyone hes friends with a special rock! Adeleines has marbling to it and looks absolutely beautiful!
Waddle Doo (Beam): 8/10 Funky little man!
He’s got only one eye and therefore has poor eyesight. You’d think one eye would be better, but nope! He wears essentially one huge contact lens to help! They’re buddies with Parasol Dee and Bandee!!! Doo is on the calmer side of the group, and tends to not be so insanely high strung. He’s still a little anxious, but he’s better at covering it than the other. He hangs out with Wester sometimes (whip-like attack squad)
Chef Kawasaki (Cook): 2/10 Hes creepy and I don’t like him.
He has this weird... unsettling energy about him. He’s tried to cook both Coo and Birdon more than once and she genuinely doesn’t like being around him. He makes good food, which has stopped him from being a 0/10 in her book, but thats it. He’s only there because Kirby thought he’d be a nice addition and everyone knows that if Kawasaki crosses the line he will get booted on the spot. (Kirby has standards too!)
Gim (Yo-yo): 7/10 Hes just a robot huh.
He’s kinda strange, and doesn’t appear to have a lot of feeling, but Gims really nice! He likes to show people all the tricks he can do with his yo-yo (which is surprisingly a lot) and gives all his friends a yo-to so they can do the tricks along with him (Adeleines is teal with red and black stripes. It’s also got a couple paint splotches on it that we’re added on purpose).
Burning Leo (Fire): 8/10 Toasty heater child!
They’re small and warm!!! All the time!!! They like to be held and snuggle up to cold stuff because it’s the same feeling as snuggling up to warm stuff for humans. REEEEAAALLLYYY wants to hug Chilly but there is the very real possibility that Chilly will literally melt so he holds off from that. Adeleine tends to be cold and likes to hold Leo like a hot water bottle. He’s learned how to make his head fire harmless so people can hold him and not get burned!!
Driblee (Water): 9/10 Oh my god they’re adorable!
Sothisispartiallyjustmebecauseilovethewaterabilityimsorry They’re a little lizard mermaid! They adore swimming more than you’d think and hold pool parties!! They hang around Chilly because their water tends to be on the colder side and Chilly can use them to reform melted bits of Adeleine can’t get Ice Dragon to do it. They’re actually made entirely out of water! They can literally transform back into water by going into water. This also means that they can conform to spaces not meant for them like bottles and containers. They like to make drinks for people since the water they use for attacking is some of the cleanest water out there! (It also tastes super fucking good)
Bonkers (Hammer): 7/10 Kinda scary...
He’s big, taller than Adeleine (especially if he stands fully upright), and has an intimidating look, but he’s all bark and no bite! Dude is literally just a ball of sunshine! He likes to carry people around and will 100% shield someone from attacks (he’s sturdy!!!). He’s helping Adeleine with her strength because she’s fragile and a little scrawny and he’s all muscle (shes gotten a lot better!). Shes got her own lightweight hammer he lets her use so she can get a little stronger!
Sir Kibble (Cutter): 9/10 Smol knight!
He cannot help his size... but he’s tough! He also has no fucking braincells and does not think but he’s a good boy! He likes to headbutt people but his helmet poses a problem (it literally has a blade attached to it) so he puts a padded pool noodle over it to protect others (the padding is so the noodle doesn’t get chopped from the blade itself when force is applied). He’s just a little dude with no thoughts... head empy...
NESP (ESP): 4/10 They talk too much and know stuff about me that I never told them.
Strange and not very cool :( They have a tendency to read other people’s minds because they purposefully don’t tune their thoughts out and therefore know a lot of stuff they really shouldn’t. They also don’t know how to keep their mouth shut. Thankfully they’re just funky from psychic power and on a good day they’re kinda nice to be around!
Vividria (Artist): 10/10 THATS MY ADOPTED SISTER!!
They’re siblings. Drawcia adopted Adeleine as one of her own and that makes Vividria her sis! They paint together and Vividria kinda sticks up for Adeleine in more dicey fights because of Adeleines low HP. They’re the bestest of friends and are super cool with one another! She’s still growing and is one day gonna reach Drawcias size!! (If we put it into normal heights [Adeleine being 5’3” and Kirby being 1’8”] Drawcia is over double Kirby’s height. Probably closer to 3-4 feet)
Parasol Waddle Dee (Parasol): 9/10 Oh my god they’re just a smol friend...
Dee is literally almost as high strung and anxious as Bandee but they’re so sweet!! They like rain!! They also give parasols to all their friends! (Adeleines is teal with paint splotches!) They tend to nap a lot and will totally join cuddle piles. On hot days they’ll utilize the chumbrella as a big shade for everyone in the nap pile. Just a squishy little dee!!!!!
Knuckle Joe (Fighter): 10/10 Hes super supportive and nice!
He saw how fragile Adeleine was and said “aight so I may not be a master but I’m gonna teach this kid how to fight” and didn’t wait for any objections. Once a week he goes out into the forest with Adeleine and shows her how to fight like him! Physical combat is important!!! She can’t fire off energy blasts or deal lightning speed punches, but she’s getting there! He’s ultra supportive of everyone and loved to teach people stuff!!! He care about everyone!!!!
Beetley (Beetle): 8/10 Why is he so angy!!
Always grumpy. He says it’s because he keeps losing to Bugzzy but it’s just because he’s super small and gets picked up like a burger all the time (if you didn’t wanna be held like a burger don’t be burger shaped idiot). Isn’t aggressive but will headbutt people with the blunt end of his horn when he’s being extra grouchy. Adeleine likes picking him up because he gets all stiff like a ferret (when you pick them up and they stick their feet’s up all stiff).
Jammerjab (Staff): 9/10 Funky but fun!
Was originally really wary of them because of the whole Void Termina thing and their assosciation with the bad guys wasn’t a good thing but they’re super cool! They’re graceful and like to stand on their staff a lot. They also help the smaller helpers get stuff up high (they themselves are small but their staff can extend a lot so they can use that for extra height). They let Adeleine use their staff and she’s not that good at it (she always whacks herself in the face while trying to use it) but it’s a nice gesture! They know a lot about the Jambastion and like to tell people all the wacky secrets it holds (like how Hyness has an entire room full of just robes that all look the exact fucking same or how theres a specific set of hallways that move and change to get trespassers lost in them). Honestly a fun little guy to be around
#fira makes braincells#fira knight screeches#can you tell I really fucking hate Kawasaki because I do#bitch has 3 moves and only 1 of them is good he sucks ass#aside from that Adeleine likes almost everyone!#the Dees are all just like Tuter (with Bandee being the most like him)#The helpers also like giving people stuff!!! Adeleine has an entire cabinet full of gifts from them!!!!!!#They’re just baby and small (with the obvious exceptions)#anyways HERE IT IS!!!!!!!!!!!!#OH and these are just the ones from Star Allies because she probably only meets those helpers#maybe others??? I’m not sure yet#but she def meets all the Star Allies helpers
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redamancy - jung jaehyun
summary : a prince who finds himself tangled in a forbidden romance.
pairing : nct jaehyun x female reader
warnings : mentions of prostitution, unprotected sex, use of profanity
genre : one shot, smut, angst.
character count : 26.100 | words : 4.7k (fuck ..whoops how inconsiderate of me)
this beautiful moodboard was made by my very talented friend @jaehyunay
Thank you a ton, my dear. ♡
listen to the tchaikovsky’s 1 hour loop of compositions and ‘howl’s moving castle’ to enhance your reading experience. (esp. valse sentimentale, swan lake and the nutcracker)
Jung Jaehyun had developed a peculiar obsession with you from the day he had seen you by a lake near the infamous dirty, unfit, dilapidated brothel.
You weren’t quite the artist but the man admired the ugly swan which sat against the gooey mud regardless. He thinks it’s a fleeting moment that love comes to him, whilst the dim sun shone against your skin and droplets of water collected on your lashes. It was the most foreign kind of beauty he had ever laid eyes upon. Usually, he would see women of luxurious lives, with even more luxurious statuses, with complexities heaped over their simple seeming facade.
They were all calculative, mathematical, everything he despised. They were all pearly whites, golden jewelry, intricate liquidised platinum details on napkins, they were everything that Jaehyun didn’t need. They could not complete the lonely prince even after thousand nights spent with him. No tangling of limbs could grant them his heart, a heart encased by tough spirals of distrust. They were all too complex and mundane.
Thus when in you, he found simplicity, delicate and pretty, he hadn’t the courage to let it pass. For he had found art, he had found in you strokes of oil paint, torn excerpts from the classics, in you he had found everything he had ever wanted.
But he was not a commoner, he was no ordinary man who you could let yourself fall in love with. He was a prince. He was woven from a different fabric than you. Your happiness, your melancholy, your good and bad had been worlds apart. Yet why had he brought forth such a burden in his life? Why had he believed the stars aligned in strings and ropes to bring you two together?
He knew you were a whore and from the way he sat transfixed on his saddle, gawking at you with not much abashedness in his eyes, he did not care much for it.
It was almost as if he bought you when he asked his most trusted man to take you to the castle. You barely had a say as you looked back at him - the sight still one which is hard to forget. He is not, after all, a man who can be easily erased.
He had his white shirt tucked into khaki colored hand stitched pants, he was in his hunting attire, brown hair falling in messy tresses whilst he stared at you with knitted brows.
Not one day in his life did he succeed in looking imperfect, he was someone beyond worldly beauty. It was an unfair thing, the way he made beautiful look like the easiest thing to own in the entire universe.
You raised your head when called and there he looked - like someone out of a painting. “Pay them whatever price they ask.” was his curt command. It was a silly thing, you think, for anyone to doubt that the brothel could refuse what a prince wanted. Especially when she is a whore.
His back disappeared into the serpentine trail of trees, his ebony skinned horse had become a dot, gallops had muted, whispers had died down, the bustling crowd had become a shell shocked audience and you - you were his.
His best man, perhaps his greatest friend, Johnny, had shot you a sympathetic smile back then just as he did whenever he would see you. Pitiful he was and never failed to make you feel small. It was an unfriendly thing he did, for someone who was so amicable. You could never look him in the eyes. “He is not a bad man.” He would tell himself more than he would tell you. And you believed him. Like incantations of a religion which ousted you.
“You are thinking too much tonight.” Jaehyun chuckled, watching you sit atop the velvety bed whilst he stroked his paintbrush on the pasty canvas.
One may think he had brought you here to fuck you like his personal whore. But such was not the case.
He did not lay a finger on you yet. He treated you like an equal. He was not common, not ordinary and unlike any other man you had ever met, unlike anyone else in the palace. Maybe that is why you were so drawn to him. He was the only person you knew who hadn’t treated you like a dirty old rag they could pick up and use whenever they wished.
But no one was allowed to touch you, no man could share a bed with you or give you their hearts. Because you belonged to him.
He had a passion for art, something he was a master of. On days when he would be upset, he would take you to the attic and paint you in forlorn blue hues and on the days when he was happy, you would be in bright yellow, pastel pink, off white; a multitude of colors.
He was an artist and you were his muse.
“Pardon me, your majesty.” The prince now looked back at you with an amused smile playing on his lips, his glasses sat along the bridge of his nose and he placed the wooden brush down. “Would you stand up for me?” You pushed yourself to your feet and watched as he took steady steps to you.
It was splendid how the buttery champagne glow of ordinary candle lights could make him look outer worldly, much more beautiful than he already was. You could not take your eyes off him, even if you tried. Especially when he undid a button of his nightshirt.
He came forward, forward and forward until there was little space between your bodies. Your heart rung in your ears and your toes tugged into the Kashmiri carpet. Why did he do this to you all of a sudden? Why was he playing with your heart?
You leant back into the bed pillars, red curtain brushed against your skin as he placed his palm over your head, face near yours, breath sending shivers down your entire body.
He stared down at your mouth, offering a peek of his milky body from the narrow split in the shirt, a silver locket hung loosely around his neck, complementing how platinum streaks of moonlight sat against his skin.
His fingers played with the thin knotted straps which held your loose dress up.
Once he caught you looking for too long, his rosy lips parted, glossy from the way the wet muscle of his tongue swiped over it. It is so hard to not kiss him. To hold him. To touch him. To feel him. It was so tempting.
But you do not wish to ruin your bond. You do not want to know if you are in love with him. He is a prince and after all, you are a whore. There will be no fairy tales written about you two. No stars will bind you two together.
You are two parts of a world which shall never be abridged. Your story is a tragedy. Not a romance.
So you turn your head away, eyes clamped shut.
Maybe Jaehyun could become every other man you had ever met, maybe he would fuck you into the mattress and leave. Maybe that way you could love him less, maybe that way you could forget him. Maybe Jaehyun would be blurred out of your memory if he lay with you tonight. If he treated you like the whore you are known to be.
But he doesn’t.
He huffed, nimble fingers pull the knots, push it off of your shoulder. Your skin burns from the way he touches you, rough pads of his digits smoothed down your upper arm and his nose brushed along your shoulder blade. “You are so beautiful.” He whispered against your skin as he gently kisses it, sucking in a red rose and licking it over. It is not the first time he had complimented you but it is the first time he had touched you. It was the first time someone had touched you the way he did.
You were accustomed to hunger, not want, not the way his fingers would graze against your skin, like you were delicate antique. All your life you had learnt you were of worthless, cheap but between the gaps of his index and thumb, you found value. You had learnt for the first time that night that love was a tangible thing and you wanted nothing but to hold it in your arms forever.
You bit down on your lip to swallow down a whimper.
“Step out of it …for me.” He dragged the article to your hips, voice incredibly low, like you were a secret he wanted no one to know, his eyes a fantastic dark brown and lustful.
This had to be the end, you reiterated. Jaehyun would bed with you and he would become every other man. He would not be someone you are gradually falling in love with.
But he had only asked you to lay against his velvety mattress and sat back in his chair, painting you again. “Your Majesty…I do not like that name.” He told you, an outline of his bulge forming against his pants when your fingers dig into the satin sheets. “Lovers do not call each other in that manner.”
Lovers.
Had he really meant what he said? Lover, lover, lover.
You told yourself over and over again. Afraid it would sound unreal if you had not.
This night was special, different from every other night you had spent with him.
Because every time he would paint you in colors, in ornaments and dresses from his palette but this particular night he had painted you in nude. Bare. Fragile. And strong. All at the same time.
Lost, love struck and reminiscent of last night, you had found him on one knee the next day, speaking portions of a conversation you hadn’t heard. “I swear to you as you should to me.” He told his mother and kissed her hand, the happy in his tone astonished you, it was like a tune you had rarely heard and you could not help but wonder what they had spoken of.
Days when the prince went away for travel were longer, the nights darker, the sun lurid and the rain more pestering. Those were the days when everybody dropped their facade of kindness. Those were the days the castle was not much different than the brothel.
You had readied yourself for an entire week of melancholy yet as his back descended into the background of cobalt sky, littered with dark clouds; you felt.. unprepared.
There was something wrong, terribly rotten, in the air, something atrocious, ahead of you that you could not put into words and it was wearing a glossy lavender gown.
The queen.
She was known to be kind or so you could tell from the way a smile curled around her face. She was everything you had expected of her..at first glance and she had become nothing you had noticed in the second.
You wondered if remorse is a luxury too pricey for the rich whenever she looks to you - with nothing but hatred, like you had earned punishment, like she would not mind seeing your head on a silver platter.
"He must marry a princess.“ She beamed at you, with a subtle cruelty masked beneath quintillion layers of primping “You do know so?” it was something she said to you every time he would leave, something she reminded you of. Like telling you that you could never fit into the glassy shoes of a princess. Every time she would warn you and it was all the same, with a stern whisper. Albeit today, her words stood in your miserable room like an ugly show piece, they hung in the air like a missed note. Loud they were, like how horses neigh acridly before carriages run over pitiable peasants. You learnt that threat insinuated he must marry a princess soon. Like he had promised her.
You learn that shock can come to you in mysterious ways, like when your father had granted you a brothel life to earn a shilling, like when you cried the first time a man had touched you, like when you understood why Jaehyun stood on his knee and how he could be king if he had a princess; like just how betrayed you had felt after, shock had come one night and made you weep into your cheap mattress. Shock had reminded you how you did not belong. How you never will.
When the prince returned, you avoided him like the plague. You had no reason to be upset and you would not fall victim to love.
At least that is what you told yourself when the cruel prince both surprisingly and unsurprisingly did not come looking for you. Perhaps it was what he wanted, to be prince and to marry someone who was not as low, inferior as you. Maybe he wished to erase you like the dirt made swan, maybe he used you for art, to flaunt his own talents. Because Jaehyun had always been beautiful, unreal and unforgettable and you ordinary, very, very real.
You had agreed to join the castle’s maid service. A proposal the queen offered to you with great kindness.
Heartbroken and dethroned from your unfulfilled dreams, you carried the silvery tray with great attention. Watching lukewarm water crash against the cream body of the small white cup, like imprisoned wishes, tumultuous and never freed. You wondered how easily your resolve may wear away when you see Jaehyun. it was the first time you would be encountering him after his depart, after all.
Your dress was a sleeveless lilac like all the other maids and you wore it well with your nullifidian, battered heart, a petal you looked like.
“Brother, dare I speak of the girl?” Hendery spoke with his eyes glued to your back. Infuriated, you furrowed your brows, he hadn’t even spared you a glance despite the tea table being sprawled with paintings of you. Selfish and ruthless, that is what Jung Jaehyun is.
The queen sat with them, nonchalantly chatting away about the town’s people and how she liked her soap. Chats which spoke of anything but your naked body on her son’s canvasses. Who acted as if the piece belonged where it was.
You wondered if Jaehyun bothered at all when you begun to forward his rose tea, the liquid a brilliant blushing quartz, like the way his cheeks flushed in summer’s heat.
Jaehyun blew at the crisp canvas, a soft hum escaping his pursed lips as he shot the younger prince, Hendery, a glance, urging him to go on. With his eyes still on you, the youngster spoke with a low voice.
“She was a whore.” Crash. It was no surprise. No matter how hard you tried, you could never rid yourself off of your identity. A whore. it was like a scar which would never heal. The liquid rolled down your dress in unflattering dark purple streaks, “Pardon me.” you winced, getting to your knees with bruised fingers to gather whatever remained of the poor little cup.
Your hand is pulled forward with a light tug and the sight before you almost made you gasp. Jaehyun had dark rings around his eyes which sucked the warm brown in them up, his skin looked barren and lips chapped. It was the first time he had looked..human, imperfect and absolutely devastated.
He parted his mouth, licking off the line of blood which formed around your injured index. You felt flustered when the warm muscle of his tongue swirled around the bruise. He must loathe you too much for punishing you like this, giving you a taste of him, mocking you, knowing you cannot have him to yourself fully.
You rushed to pull your hand away when he let it go, hearing the unison of clearing throats but again, he dragged it back, this time with a stronger pull. “What are you doing here?” You remained silent, looking away, biting back a sob. Your words begged to be said but you swallowed them down with a hard gulp.
“You informed me of her leave. You told me she was ill.” Of all the emotions you have seen on Jaehyun’s face before, anger was not one of which. He was always kind, smiling and emoting himself in softer ways. The contrast was so alarming that the room fell into palpable, eerie silence. “She is well now, as you see.” His mother replied with a bravery so false and a voice so shaky that you could almost pity her.
“You told me she refused to see me.” Jaehyun gritted his teeth and sprung up rather ungracefully. The queen now, slightly shaken blinked at her son, attempting to grasp at her words like a sinking ship would to its anchor. “She took an interest in being a maid instead upon hearing your marriage proposal.” She looks to you, lying smoothly through her pearly white teeth. “She could not see herself off before you had gotten married to the princess.”
When he stares at you like you are a traitor, gaze burning into your face, you let the heavy weight called a head hang low. There was no emotion on his typically vibrant, euphoric face, nothing but indifference, phlegm, a barrier. “Forgive me, my lady.” You turned, broken portions of both the cup and your pride in hand. You took your fingers away from him and this time, he does not stop you.
You do not see the prince for a day, not until the King arrives, not until you are summoned to set up his bath. Something no female was allowed before. It was usually arranged by his most trusted men. No one was allowed the luxury of seeing him bare and it rose immediate suspicion. See, invites of his marriage were being sent out generously to both the commons and elites. No one had see his spouse to be and the excitement of this reveal had thus begun to buzz throughout the entire empire. Banners hug in red and white, rose and the whole palace smelled of rosemary and chicken stew.
You sighed worriedly, avoiding the way everyone looked at you like you were a poor girl being sacrificed to a pagan demon.
Pushing the white, satin curtains away, you took in the enormous bathing room’s rudiments with widened eyes and a parted mouth. It was dimly lit by orange lanterns on each corner, the sapphire glow of moonlight slipping in and letting a waltz of a multitude of colours dance its way into the chamber. It smelled of honey and roses, something that reminded you of your long passed mum. You found yourself smiling, absorbing fond memories but only for a brief moment …because before you, dipped into the opalescent water, sat Jaehyun, with his back pressed against the enormous water body and arms rested on either side.
“Come here.” He said, face stern and voice sharp, like he was enraged. You placed a basket of his scents and salts and sauntered to the spot he gesticulated you stand in, just across from him.
“Sit.” You almost winced at the harshness of his tone, he spoke to you for the first time with impoliteness and it made your heart ache. “Near the water. Closer.” Had he really forgotten your loving exchanges? Did you really ever know the prince?
“My Prince.” You paused, not wanting your heart to be broken like the time before. If he was not going to be yours, you did not want to be so close. You did not want to desire him so much. “I am not your prince.” Dots of gold sat against his skin in droplets and his hair fell back in wet tresses. He looked like someone carved him out of ivory and smoothed out every imperfection there is with their very own fingertips- and you, much flawed, wondered if there was a world where he could love you back.
Your toes disappeared into tender circles of water and you watched him make his way to you in long strokes. Much thanks to his long arms. “Forgive me. Callous of me to forget your approaching wedding.” You had not. It was all you could think of. You do not mean to sound bitter. Reminding yourself that indeed, he is not your prince. Even so, you could hardly miss how the reminder of wedding was weighing your memory down, grabbing its throat and taking its life. How could you forget when it was the one thing you wanted?
“You might as well forget everything about me.” He mocked you, hands on either side of your hips, you instinctively parted your thighs, letting him slot in between as he pushed the cottony material of your dress upwards.
“We are equals.” A dry laugh escapes your chapped lips, like they had been glued for an eternity. Lost in a daze, a change in emotions so very sudden that you succumbed to the urge of running your fingers through his wet hair. Jaehyun took great offense at your cackles but rested his cheek against your bare thigh regardless.
You have always wanted to touch him and tonight just might be the last night that you would be permitted to.
“Why did you join the service?” He looked up at you with a peculiar droop of his lids, an inscrutable haze in his eyes. “Why did you promise to marry?” Ridiculed, he seemed, now with his chin rested and brows raised upwards. “I promised to marry you.” Shock came to you in many ways, like when Jaehyun kissed the wet skin of your inner thighs with a lewd smack of his lips and when he confessed to you, when your heart beat in your ears, when a happy ending raced towards you and you welcomed it with open arms. Like you had known. All your life.
“I do not understand what you mean-”
“I promised to travel overseas to ensure allies in the North, instead of father… in exchange of your hand in marriage.” You blinked rapidly, wondering if what you had heard was real and not imagined. “Father was not very pleased but he conformed finally.” He grinned at you, “I have 20 brothers, after all. i am sure someone else is more befitting.” The prince paused, fingers travelling upwards upwards and upwards, at pace so tantalizing, you scoffed impatiently .
“Your mother…” You sighed, tugging onto his roots as he creates a trail of wet kisses with his rosy mouth. “wanted me to marry into royal blood.” Your breath hitched when he placed a tender kiss to your clothed core. “Father dealt with her, I suppose.” He whispered into your skin, pulling your body into the water with such care that it made your toes curl.
“The person you are marrying soon is..” Jaehyun smiled bemusedly at you, indentations digging deep into his cheeks. Your hands were pressed against his bare chest, bodies warm and hearts racing. You could swear sanity had swum away from you when his mouth met yours. “You.” He kissed your cheek, your nose, the corner of your mouth and every spot there is on your face. “you. you. you.”
His tongue licked into your mouth, hands travelling to each bend and curve on your body. “ I am in love with you.” He learnt you like poetry, like literature and you let him.
He parted, stroking your hair back from your face. “The chambers.”
All this time you thought you were his. You were his from the day he had found you. It was nothing you did not know. Yet when he touched you, stripped from your long, skimpy dress, you discovered a sense of belonging like never before. You were unprepared and flabbergasted when his fingers set your body ablaze with something as simple as a stroke. You were his, true but he too, was yours.
Jaehyun stared at your naked body with a faint, scarlet dusted on the apples of his cheeks, his lips are parted as his knees dig deep into the sheets. You could see the outline of his cock from under the silky white barrier of a robe, he held your legs apart and hoisted them on either side of his hips. “Do you not want to wait till I become your wife?” You furrowed your eyebrows, words coming out in broken syllables when he licked his index and wiped it along your folds. “No. I cannot..not anymore.”
He took your interlaced fingers and placed them above your head, groaning against your neck as he slipped into you. His pendant hovered above your face whilst his hips snapped into yours, noise unholy, unceremonious. You were convinced his name is the only word you know when your insides clench at the lewd sight of your lower stomach bulging with every thrust he delivered. You loved the feeling of being one, like you were never meant to be apart in the first place. You loved being his and he loved being yours. He held your legs up to his shoulders, which allowed him to reach a spot in you which made you feel dizzy.
His forehead creased, pace reduced to sluggish snaps as he said your name into your ear, like sermons, like words to a song he will never forget and filled your wet cunt up. His hips did not halt, instead they jolted back in, in slow slapping of skin against skin, teeth clambered down on your jugular. Overwhelming your body with so much pleasure, it quaked. Trembling with want, desire and love, love love.
You released with heavy breaths against his open mouth, voice raspy from moans so loud you would have thought the whole kingdom had heard you.
For the first time in Jaehyun’s life, he thinks he felt strong and not fragile when he is bare. He held your body, in sweaty sheets and not felt a bit dirty, he felt enamored, contented and incredibly in love, never to be alone again, to stay endless nights in the same fashion, in the arms of the woman he would spend the rest of his life with.
#neowritingsnet#kwritersworldnet#jung yoonoh#jung jaehyun#jaehyun#nct jaehyun#nct smut#jaehyun smut#nct x reader#jaehyun x reader#nct imagines#nct angst#smut#angst#fluff#hendery#forbidden love au
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corinth rains
New and improved Heaven may well be the Happiest Place (not) on Earth. But Dean, it turns out, is still Dean.
(also on AO3)
chapter two
Heaven is warm, bucolic, and perfect. And it gives Dean the damned heebie-jeebies.
He recalls a memorable night spent with Pamela - well, as memorable as it could be after a fifth of Macallan. Sam had said ‘So get this...’ and then fucked off to the local library, leaving Pam and Dean at the hotel bar. They’d drunk til the lights got fuzzy, and Pam had leaned back against the barstool, arching one dark eyebrow.
She’d had Dean supine across the foot of the squeaky queen, sitting astride him and working some kind of magic. She’d settled his hands on her slim waist, tugged at his hair, bitten his lips; he’d had nary a moment to want something before she gave it - the craving coming on the heels of the having.
Heaven is much the same - perceptive and generous - and it leaves Dean feeling just as he had that night with Pam. Vulnerable, flayed open. Seen.
He assumes it’s heaven’s off-brand kind of ESP that’s landed him here, seated at a teakwood dining table in a house over yonder.
There are soft sounds from the kitchen - cabinets opening, a gurgling coffee maker, a substratum of tuneless humming. Dean hunches over his plate and shovels another forkful of pie into his mouth. It’s sweet and rich, tart and crumbly, and he barely tastes it at all.
“You alright?”
Dean looks up to find Mary seated across from him. She’s a little younger than when he last saw her, but otherwise she’s just as he remembers - her yellow hair falling in waves over her shoulders, her eyes a soft Carolina blue.
She stares at him, calm and unconcerned, the bow of her lips turned up in a tiny smile.
Dean shakes his head and gives a little shrug. “Yeah, ‘course,” he says, gruffer than intended.
She notices, he’s sure, but she only tips her head in a nod. “Okay.”
A quietude stretches between them, peaceful but gravid. Mary tilts her head, face serene and mildly expectant, and she inches a pale hand forward on the table. His fingers clench around the little dessert fork, and he takes another bite.
She’s waiting, he realizes, for him to speak, to get there. Though where ‘there’ is, Dean’s got no damn idea.
“You know,” he says, to fill the silence, “Sammy asked me if I remembered anything,” he swallows, throat dry, and looks down at his plate, “‘bout bein’ a kid.”
Mary’s eyebrows pop up, and she smiles a little wider. “You remembered me,” she offers.
Dean’s eyes alight on hers, and his lips purse. There’s something something fragile in her face, a budding hope that he doesn’t want to crush. You made me sandwiches, he wants to say. You told me bedtime stories.
His stomach clenches. You burned alive, gutted on the ceiling.
Dean looks away, brow furrowed. “‘Course I did,” he grunts out, throat tight.
She gives him a look that goes right through him - compassionate, or maybe pitying. Her mouth turns down like she can hear his thoughts, and he bites his cheek, shamefaced.
“What else do you remember?” she asks, and her voice is mild and curious, lacking the censure Dean expected.
Dean reins in his surprise and dips his head, summoning a wry smile. “Well,” he says and points his fork at the plate of pie crumbs.
She rolls her eyes and nods, smiling once again. “Yes, obviously pie. What else.”
He stares at her for a moment, feeling wrong-footed and a little short-changed, then peers through the open French doors toward the mountainside. He scans his memories, steering clear of the ugly ones that present themselves first, looking for something - anything - to keep her smiling.
...Weedy grass and buzzing bees.
“Our backyard,” he murmurs, and feels his lips quirk up.
Mary’s smile grows soft, warm like the spring air. “Mm,” she hums. “Always overgrown. Your dad never wanted to mow it.”
Dean withholds a wince at the mention of John, and a muscle twitches in his jaw. “I liked it how it was.”
Mary’s eyes dart up to his, and her soft laugh lines deepen. “Yeah, you did.”
Dean’s eyes trace over her face, searching for something, though he’s not sure what. She’s still the girl who made a deal with a yellow-eyed demon. Still the woman who left, and left, and left again. She’s no more perfect now than she ever was, but...
She has laugh lines, and yellow hair, and Carolina blue eyes. And she’s looking at Dean like she’s missed him forever. Damn, if he hasn’t missed her, too.
Something loosens in his chest, and his fists unclench. He smiles, wan but sincere, and leans back in his seat, crossing his ankles under the table. “Coulda done without the bees though.”
She huffs a little laugh and shakes her head. “You loved the bees,” she counters.
Dean raises a doubtful eyebrow. “Did I?”
“Mhm,” she hums, nodding sagely. “You’d chase ‘em around, flapping your arms like little wings.”
Dean squints, searching his scattered memory. He remembers the yard, the foliage, the window into the kitchen. He remembers thunder and lightning and torrential downpour. He doesn’t remember himself.
“Huh,” he says, and folds his arms over his chest.
He stares across the table at Mary. She’s silent but smiling, her eyes far away. It’s a familiar look, one he’s seen on nearly everyone he knows in Heaven. Like they’re lost in a beautiful memory - a moment in their past lives that they didn’t regret.
Dean doesn’t think about his human life. He’d lived it, after all. That was enough.
“You drew me a map once.”
Dean eyes flick up from where they’d settled on his dirty plate, and his brow furrows. “A map?”
She nods, still staring glassy-eyed into the middle distance. “You followed one little bee all day long,” she murmurs. “Counted all the flowers she landed on. Then you,” she swallows, and her eyes go shiny, “you raced inside and scribbled it all out on the back of a—” a startled huff of laughter, “—a takeout menu.”
Dean watches her, the way her eyes flick back and forth, like she’s watching the scene unfold before her. There’s an ache near the center of his chest like a bruise. “I don’t remember that,” he says, voiced pitched low.
Her head tilts up, absent eyes meeting his as she pulls herself from reverie. “You were... three? Maybe four?” She looks down and brings a hand to settle over her heart. “It was beautiful,” she whispers, and tilts her head. “Wish I still had it.”
Dean nods at her, though she’s still looking away, and he feels a hot coil of guilt in his stomach. Mary had adored him, he knows that much, and she’d lost him as surely as he’d lost her. He remembers the expectant way he’d looked at her in the bunker, wanting something she couldn’t remember how to give. Something he barely even remembers himself.
There’s movement behind Mary’s head, and Dean’s eyes snap to it.
Something is... growing on the wall.
Dean’s fists clench up, and he watches with hawk eyes as the thing manifests, forming itself into a vaguely rectangular shape. He feels his lips purse tight and his spine straighten like a rod.
Mary senses his sudden tension and looks up, following his eyes over her shoulder.
“Oh my god,” she whispers in awe.
She unfolds herself from her chair and stands up slowly, as if in a dream. She walks the four paces to the wood-paneled wall, reaching out a cautious hand. Her fingers close around the frame of the thing, and she gives a soft sigh.
Dean stares at her back where the knobs of her spine meet her neck, her shoulder blades distorting the periwinkle plaid of her blouse. She turns around, her eyes fixed on her prize, thumbs smoothing over the simple wood frame.
She comes around the table, sliding into the chair at Dean’s side, and when she finally looks up at him, her eyes are bright and red-rimmed. She takes Dean’s hand in hers, her skin smooth and cool, and slips the little framed drawing into his palm.
He peers down at it and gives a startled bark of laughter.
The drawing is entirely ridiculous - an indecipherable riot of squiggly pen lines and waxy crayon color. There’s a messy bed of green near the bottom, which Dean assumes is grass, and it’s speckled with tiny blobs of vibrant pink and deep red - flowers, Dean thinks. Near the center of the page is a single white daisy with a bright yellow bumblebee hovering over it. A swirling purple line trails behind its black-striped body, making loop-de-loops around every flower. The sky is a strip of electric blue at the top, just above an empty field of white - the landscape drawn as children often do, with the heavens separated from the earth.
His fingers hover over a grease-stained corner, illegible text bleeding through. “Jeez,” he breathes out. “Clearly I missed my calling.”
He hears the broad smile in Mary’s voice. “Coulda been the next Da Vinci,” she says, nudging his shoulder.
Dean huffs and raises an eyebrow. “More like Picasso.”
She laughs at that, as he knew she would, and it sounds like Corinthian bells, chiming in harmony on the breeze.
Dean smiles to himself, eyes roving over his apparent masterpiece before alighting on a strange scribble in the corner.
“What’s this?” he murmurs, pointing a finger at the tiny black and blue squiggle.
“Hm?” Mary leans closer to him, and Dean’s nose twitches with the scent of tart apples clinging to her hair. She looks at the little scribble, frowning for a moment, before her eyebrows pop up. “Oh, wow,” she sighs out, leaning closer. “I forgot about that.”
She reaches out a hand to grasp the side of the frame opposite Dean’s, the small weight of the silly little drawing shared between them. She’s got that look again, like there’s an old Super 8 projection playing in her head. Dean wonders what’s on the reel.
She chews her lip for a moment, then tips her head toward Dean. “You remember what I used to tell you before bed?” she asks, peering up at his face.
Dean frowns. “Brush your teeth or they’ll turn green?”
She gives him a look. “That was Dad.”
Dean tips his head back in a nod. “Right. Uh...” Dean trails off for a moment, unsure. Nearly all of his childhood memories are of Mary, but they’re weathered and vague, filtered through the consciousness of a toddler. He barely remembers the words she said, only the lilting strains of her voice as she calmed him, soothed him, protected him—
An image flits across his mind, and he sucks in a breath: a tiny figurine that sat on the mantel, with fluffy little wings and a crown of white roses.
Dean blinks and shakes his head. “Angels are watching over me,” he intones.
He sees Mary nod in his peripheral vision, and her finger taps on the little scribble near his thumb.
“It’s—” Dean starts and frowns, askance, “...an angel?” he guesses.
“Mhm,” she hums, giving another slow nod. Her finger slides across the two tiny black scrawls, vaguely triangular and joined at the middle. “Wings,” she says, then taps the blue oval just above, “halo.” He sees her smile out of the corner of his eye. “You drew it all the time.”
Dean stares at the squiggle, a frown etching across his forehead. The figurine he remembers was nearly solid white, the only deviations its pink skin and dark eyes. There’s not a speck of white in the little scribble, no cherubic cloud-seeder to be found. Just messy black shapes and a faded blue circle. Black wings, blue halo.
Black wings. Blue halo.
Black wings.
... Blue—
The painting slips from his fingers as Mary takes it back in her hands. She holds it gently, reverently, as she stands and walks around the table. Dean shakes his head to clear it, and watches as she replaces the little picture on the center of the wall. It looks, at once, as if it has always hung there, and like he’d drawn it but a moment ago.
A shiver climbs up the back of Dean's neck. He shrugs it off.
“How’s Dad?” he asks lowly, and regrets it immediately.
Mary turns around, her eyes a little wide, eyebrows climbing toward her hairline. Dean isn’t sure why he asked. He backtraces his train of thought, only to find he hadn’t had one at all; seems he’s done his usual shtick of putting his foot in his mouth the very moment he opens it.
Mary seems to sense his imminent retraction, and she settles her face into a genial smile. “He’s good,” she says mildly and comes back to her seat across from Dean. “Wasn’t sure he’d like it here, at first. But,” she settles into the worn wooden chair, “I think he does.”
Dean represses a scoff at that. “Why wouldn’t he?” he says and picks up his fork, eyes downcast. “He’s got you.” He slides the crumbs around on his plate, shoulders hunching forward. “All he ever wanted.”
Mary is silent for a long moment, and Dean doesn’t look up - he can picture her face well enough. His fork scrapes against white porcelain, the sun a bright glare on the stainless steel tines.
Mary sighs, barely audible. “You ever gonna talk to him?”
Her voice is soft and ambivalent, as if she’s already accepted his answer. It gets Dean’s back up, and he peers up at her through flinty eyes.
She’s staring at him, face guileless and open. There’s a spark of curiosity in her eyes, flavored with a sort of tempered sadness. But there’s no reproof, no expectation, and Dean gets the strange feeling that there isn’t a right answer. Or a wrong one.
Dean’s jaw goes a little slack, and for a moment, he thinks he might simply say, No.
Mary tips her head to the side, eyes going soft as her lips turn up, and the moment passes.
“‘Course, I will,” Dean grumbles, casting his eyes back to his empty plate. He shrugs. “Not avoiding him, just...” he trails off and shakes his head. Best leave it there.
Mary takes a slow breath, and Dean sees the vague shape of her leaning forward in her seat.
“Well,” she starts, lacing her fingers on the tabletop. “I won’t speak for him—”
Dean snorts. “But.”
Mary sighs, amused and resigned. “But... I know he’s got a lot to say. He just...” she pauses for a moment, then shrugs her shoulders. “He doesn’t really know how to say it. He knows he—” she cuts herself off with a quick shake of her head. “Well,” her hands raise in a brief shrug. “It’s his truth to tell.”
Dean nods absently, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. He’s known since ‘they live over yonder’ that a reckoning would come for him and his dad. Dean just isn’t quite sure if he’s ready for whatever truth John might tell - or if he’s even inclined to listen to it.
Dean clenches his jaw and drops his fork onto the plate. It clatters loud in the calm of the spring afternoon, and Dean barely restrains a flinch.
Mary leans further forward, hand sliding halfway across the table.
“Dean—”
“Think Sammy’s gonna join the Arch,” Dean says overloud, settling his elbows on the tabletop.
Mary pauses at the abrupt change of subject, but deftly lets it slide. Her eyes flutter a bit, and she pulls her hand back. “Yeah?” she asks, giving a slightly awkward smile.
Dean feels a twinge of guilt in his throat and swallows it down. “Mm,” he nods. “Eileen’s gonna join. And lord knows wherever she goes—”
“Sam goes,” Mary finishes, her smile seeming to widen and soften at once. “He loves her,” she murmurs.
Dean’s stomach clenches taut, even as a smile comes unbidden. He remembers Sam peering over his shoulder as they’d stood on the bridge, his mouth slack and eyes liquid. Dean had known without looking who stood behind him. Sam had gone to her on shaky legs that crumbled beneath him as he reached her. Dean’s vision had gone blurry, and he’d turned away from them, eyes squinting out at the sunlit mountain.
“Yeah,” Dean says, voice a little thick. He clears his throat and nods. “And I get it, ya know. He—” he interrupts himself on a wincing inhale. “He lost her before.” A dry swallow. “Twice.”
Mary makes a little noise in her throat. “Three times,” she whispers.
Dean frowns, confused, and glances up at Mary. Her eyes are shiny, mouth screwed up in a tiny sad smile.
Oh. “She... she went before him?”
Mary’s eyebrows scrunch together, and she sniffs. “She stayed with us. Til he came.”
Dean’s brows rise at that. Offering comfort in a time of need isn’t really his parents’ bag - at least, not that Dean can remember.
Then again, he can’t think of anyone who knows grief better.
“Huh,” he grunts in lieu of a response, and glances up.
Mary is still staring at him, but the melancholy has given way to a sharp sort of consideration. Her eyes dart over his face, slightly squinted, and she looks so much like Sam that Dean turns to stare out at the sun.
Here in Heaven, Sam and Mary are quite alike: happy, whole, and ready for a new life - a new fight.
Dean is just... tired.
“You know,” Mary begins, and Dean’s eyes flick to her hands, still resting on the table. “He’s not going anywhere,” she says, and Dean’s eye twitches in a wince. “You know that, right?”
Dean nods and swallows, looking down at his own hands. “Yeah, I know.” And he does know.
“Even if he joins the Arch,” she continues as if he hadn’t spoken. Her voice is ardent but still gentle, and she leans forward. “He’s not going anywhere. He—” she huffs and tips her head side to side. “He might get a little banged up, maybe, but—”
He knows. “I know.”
“—he...” Mary trails off on a sigh, stretching her arm across the table. Her fingers brush his, and he holds himself still. “No one’s gonna take him away, Dean.” She runs her thumb over the knuckles of his fist. “It’s work,” she acknowledges. “Dirty work, even, but... it’s not life or death,” she murmurs with a tiny smile. “Not here.”
Dean knows this. He knows all of this, but... But that doesn’t stop him from... It’s not the same as...
It doesn’t make him—
“I know,” he intones, giving her a tight smile.
Her eyebrows make a sympathetic shape, and she pulls her hand back. Dean’s shoulders relax, just slightly.
“You know, your dad thought you would join,” she says with a little smile.
Dean huffs out a chuckle, bitter and resigned. “‘Course he did,” he grunts, pressing his thumbs together.
“Dean,” Mary sighs, tone somewhere between chiding and apologetic.
Dean’s lips turn down, and he shakes his head. “Sorry,” he mutters, mostly sincerely.
“It wasn’t an expectation,” Mary says, then gives a little shrug. “He just... I think he figured all the—” she shakes her head, as if searching for the words, “-the soul-searching would...” she sighs. “I dunno... Make your teeth itch,” she finishes with a wry smile.
Dean gives her one back, though he feels a headache coming on. His teeth do itch. Everything itches. Everything chafes.
“Well,” he starts and swallows again. His throat’s gone bone dry. “Still searching, I guess,” he says, and he supposes it might be true, but- “Not sure what for, though.”
Mary reaches her hand out again, and Dean goes tense for a moment. His eyes flit to hers, and he finds them crinkled at the corners. She’s smiling at him as she’d smiled at his little drawing, as she’d smiled when she sat him down, as she’d smiled while he ate his pie. She’s smiling at him now, as she had when he was a boy, as she always has.
Her skin looks like clouds, her eyes like the sky. She laces her fingers with Dean’s, and the tension across his back fades away.
“I think,” Mom murmurs, “you’ll know it when you find it.”
chapter one | chapter three
table of contents
#corinth rains#destiel#deancas#fanfiction#post-canon#slow burn#dean-centric#tw: depression#chapter wc: ~3.4k
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Episode 44: The One where Su She Gets Rekt
we’re outside of mianmian’s house and omg wwx's face is so cute when he recognizes mianmian. his little pleased grin makes me melt every time
also omg, i just realized that wwx is still wearing lwj’s white inner robes here???
you can see them where you usually see his (sinfully) red inner robes!!!!!
which means as far as i’m concerned this ENTIRE EPISODE is a wangxiantic in and of itself lolol
mr. mianmian is like, why are you calling my daughter's name??
(i keep forgetting that mianmian's name isn't actually mianmian lol)
i'd be concerned too if some strange guy who was hiding behind our hay bale or whatever the heck that is, knew my kid's name...
wwx is so amused by this turn of events! he's like, awww, mianmian and little mianmian!
which was basically my response too
but ofc lwj is much more formal and does his little bow and addresses her as Lady Luo
wwx: now i know your true name!!
wait, did he really never learn it before?? or did he just forget? both are plausible, tbh
and here mianmian introduces her husband
wwx: may i ask what clan you're from?
mm: oh, he's not from any clan. he's a merchant!
bc mm knew getting tangled up with another clan was just not a good life decision, probs
and she's all he comes with me on night hunts tho and wwx is like, oh is that what you were doing?
little mm: we were looking for the yiling patriarch!
and wwx perks up and gets all playful bc WWX LOVES CHILDREN SO MUCH
wwx: oh, but i heard he eats children. aren't you afraid?
little mm gets all shy and stutter-y and it's ADORABLE
wwx is all like, oh she's so cute! she looks just like you when you were her age
and mm is all, don't you feel bad saying that?? how would you know what i looked like at that age???
we get a shot of lwj and he looks at ease and is simply taking joy in watching wwx interact with these people
same, lwj, same
wwx: how old is she? i'd like to give her some lucky money!
and ofc mr. and mrs. mianmian immediately try to stop him for politeness sake BUT LOL LWJ IS ALREADY REACHING INTO HIS SLEEVE TO GET MONEY FOR THE KID
wwx: don't be so humble. it's not my money anyway~
and he laughs bc he'S SHAMELESS
lwj just hands wwx his purse and lets him take whatever he wants from it.
what a doting husband-to-be he is!
and then mm does that thing all parents do with small children "what do you say to hanguang jun and master wei?"
little mm: thank you, hanguang jun
SHE'S SO FREAKING CUTE
lwj must agree with me bc he SMILES. it's his little smile, the one that just barely curls up at the corner of his lips, but it's a sincere smile
he's probably remembering lsz when lsz was that age
he's probably thinking about how he wants more children, esp now that wwx is here to raise them with him
Give me all the Dadji fic!
wwx: little mm, i gave you the money. why don't you say thank you to me?
and he puts on this cute little pout but little mm just glares ADORABLY at him bc she SAW who's money it was and she's a clever girl lololol
lwj is amused by that exchange too, we get another one of his little smiles
now they're asking for info on anything unusual around but they get interrupted by some screaming!! mm was all ready to go attack, but lwj said they'd handle it
after they leave, mr. and mrs. mm have a little convo which i wouldn't bother mentioning except she ends it with a very sincere "master wei...is a good man"
BC WWX IS A GOOD MAN AND APPARENTLY SHE'S THE ONLY ONE SENSIBLE ENOUGH TO SEE THAT
turns out the screaming was wen ning!! being adorable!!
he's all covered in mud and grass, and had been trying to scare people off for Reasons
wwx starts cleaning his face
I LOVE WHEN WWX DOES THAT
HE’S SO LOVING AND NURTURING
lwj watches this go down but there's no smile on his face like there was before with little mm even tho wwx being all sweet and nurturing is always cute
DON'T BE JEALOUS LWJ, DON'T BE THAT GUY
oh, wwx just noticed wn's injured hand and is like, what happened? and wn ofc says 'NOthing!!!" bc he doesn't want to worry wwx
lwj: it's blood.
wn: not blood1! well, it is but it's not human blood!!
he says this so nervously and flustered bc lwj is very intimidating actually
Or at least I wouldn’t want to get on his bad side...
now we find out that wn has secretly been taking down puppets while following wwx and lwj around this whole time
bc wn is a good friend
then it gets kinda sad bc wwx is like, wn i told you to hide out somewhere! and wn is all, but where would i hide?
bc wn has nowhere and no one aside from wwx rn 😔
so wwx is like, okay, the three of us can travel together instead
Lol, lwj looks down at this and starts stalking off
lwj: lets go
i don't think he's happy to have a third wheel lololol
he wanted alone time with wwx!
WHAT DID I SAY, LWJ?? NO ONE LIKES A GREEN-EYED MONSTER.
now they're in town!
wwx: lan zhan, do you remember this town?
lwj: yes
BC LWJ REMEMBERS ALL OF HIS TIME WITH WWX
BC WWX IS HIS SOULMATE AND HE LOVES HIM
wwx is like, remember that time i said i'd treat you to a meal here?
they're in front of the teahouse in yiling and lwj is looking at it, like, FONDLY bc he DOES remember and it's probably one of his happiest memories tbh
wwx isn't looking at the teahouse, he's looking at lwj here and he gets this soft little smile on his face AND IT'S SO SWEET AND BEAUTIFUL
ooh flashback to their first time in yiling together! And ~Their Song~ starts playing!!
it's a quick little flashback bc we're back in the present with wwx saying something about how he's embarrassed that lwj ended up paying that time or smth
at wwx's words, lwj turns around and just looks at him.
Omg, how does he always pack in SO MUCH LOVE in the way he looks at wwx??
another quick flashback of them sharing a meal at the teahouse with cute little a-yuan darting around lwj with his toys
wwx: but that happened a long time ago
and lwj gives a stilted nod bc HE DOESN'T WANT TO THINK ABOUT HOW LONG AGO THAT WAS AND THE FACT THAT WWX WAS GONE ALL THIS TIME
wwx turns and sees the toy stall and he SMILES
OH GOD HOW DOES THIS MAN HAVE SUCH BEAUTIFUL SMILES
but then he gets sad as he remembers a-yuan
wwx: if that boy were still alive, he would be a teenager now
Bc wwx still thinks all the wens died. He thinks little a-yuan was BRUTALLY MURDERED with the rest of his clan
MY POOR DARLING SUNSHINE BOY
then we get a bit of slo-mo as lwj turns to look at wwx, who's still lost in thought
AND HE DOESN'T MENTION THAT LSZ IS ALIVE AND WELL???
WHAT HECK LWJ
THAT WAS A PERFECT OPENING
ALL YOU HAD TO SAY WAS "YEAH, FUNNY STORY, HE'S ACTUALLY NOT DEAD. SURPRISE!! I RESCUED HIM AND RAISED HIM AS MY OWN SON AND GAVE HIM ALL THE LOVE I COULD POSSIBLY GIVE BC HE WAS YOUR SON AND ALL I HAD LEFT OF YOU AND HE SAVED MY LIFE AS MUCH AS I SAVED HIS"
DAMN IT, LWJ. USE YOUR WORDS!!
cut to somewhere outside the town and wn is beating up a whole bunch of puppets all by himself like a badass
oh, here's lwj with the assist! he guqin's the heck out of those puppets
he looks so cool doing that, omg
Also, i love how he whooshes away his instrument whenever he's done with it
we're at the burial mounds!!
which is looking just as bright and cheery as ever!!
meaning everything is gray and looks dead
wwx gets really sad, and he's remembering the voices of all the wens he failed
IT HURTS TO SEE HIM THIS MELANCHOLY
MY SUNSHINE BOY SHOULD ONLY EVER BE HAPPY AND SMILEY, DAMN IT
wn snaps him out of it, thankfully
lwj explains how everything was destroyed during the siege back then
he doesn't mention at all how he defended this place until he physically couldn't anymore
wwx: it doesn't matter that this place was destroyed. for me, wq, and wn, it represents the hardest time in our lives. there's no need to return to this place
wwx says this all soberly and i just wanna wrap him up in blankets and hide him from the world
BC THE WORLD DOESN'T DESERVE MY PRECIOUS SUNSHINE BOY.
LOOK WHAT THEY DID TO HIM!!
THEY BROKE HIS HEART!!! THEY’RE NOT ALLOWED TO HAVE HIM ANYMORE.
lwj looks like he feels the same way, lol
wwx: wen ning, stop looking. let's go
wn: yes, young master. i just wanted to check if there's anything left
which was ANOTHER PERFECT OPENING for lwj to cut in and say "ACTUALLY, ABOUT THAT, a-yuan is totally alive and well, guys!!"
but nooooo, ofc lwj doesn't say anything bc god forbid he use his words every once in awhile
oh, evil puppets just appeared and started attacking
But wn is like NOT TODAY SATAN and starts pummeling the lot of them
ooooh, and lwj does this thing here where he summons up a guqin string and, like, magically attaches it to a couple of trees
Then wwx tells wn to watch out and wn does this cool backflip to join wwx as lwj TWIRLS forward to take wn's place
and then he magically plucks the guqin string which lets out this big blue blast of energy
the whole move looks SO DAMN COOL
HE EVEN DOES LIKE, A FINISHING POSE LIKE ALL GOOD SUPERHEROES DO LOL
After, he whooshes away his string like nbd, just being effortlessly awesome like ALWAYS
now they're making their way to wwx's demon palace cave thing, and lwj stops to freaking MATERIALIZE suibian out of thin air and give it to wwx
it looks SO cool
lwj: for defense
wwx: thank you
wwx unsheathes it just enough so we can see the inscription on the blade before re-sheathing it and keeping it at his side
lwj gives him a Questioning Look and wwx gets a little awkward
wwx: ah, i haven't used a sword in so long, i'm not used to it
his eyes are all big and guileless and gorgeous
GOD HOW IS HE SO BEAUTIFUL
lwj is not as easily distracted as i am, apparently, and he very obviously is not buying with wwx is selling
wwx: fine, i'll tell you. it's bc this body of mine lacks spiritual power, so even the best sword can't show it's true power in my hand
lol, he raises up suibian when he says "the best sword"
i am so distracted by wwx's gorgeous cheekbones here,
omg, paired with those big brown eyes, I CAN'T HANDLE IT I'M ONLY HUMAN
wwx: therefore, hanguang jun, please protect this fragile, feeble man~
he says it with a thin smile which looks as adorable as all his other smiles
Tbh i get the impression that he's a little embarrassed to have to ask for help
NOT THAT HE EVEN NEEDED TO ASK BC LWJ IS ALREADY WILLING TO PROTECT HIM FROM ANYTHING AND EVERYTHING ALL THE TIME
wwx walks around past lwj and we see lwj aim one of his signature Longing Glances at wwx's back
now we're in wwx's old demon palace cave thing!!
AND WE SEE THE JUNIORS ARE ALL TIED UP AND TRAPPED THERE
HELLO, JUNIORS!! WE'VE MISSED YOUR PRECIOUS BABY FACES
lol, lsz and jl are tied to one another, my sweet little baby ship
you know what, this isn't wangxian at all but the juniors have some choice lines here and we should take the time to appreciate them
ljy: what do they even want? whether it's to torture or kill us, they should just do it! i'd rather be eaten by monsters during night hunting than starve to death in this shithole
LOLOL SAME LJY SAME
death by starvation has got to be one of the WORST ways to go
rando jin junior starts running his mouth again and we see jin ling close his eyes and attempt to do a breathing exercise or smth and IT'S HILARIOUS LOLOLOLOL
LOOK AT MY BRATTY SON TRYING TO CONTROL HIS TEMPER
it lasts like, two seconds before he's yelling at the other kid and telling him to shut up
rando jin junior is all offended and is like, what do you mean shut up??
so my precious bratty son is like, "what do i mean? are you deaf or stupid? can't you understand? shut up means STOP TALKING"
I LOVE JIN LING SO MUCH
MY DARLING BRAT OF A SON
they bicker for a bit and lsz cuts in trying to make them stop by pointing out that, hello, they're trapped in here by evil puppets who could decide to come in and tear them to pieces literally any minute now
the distraction tactic didn't work. the boys are trying to beat each other up whilst being tied up and it's HILARIOUS
THAT'S THE MOST PATHETIC FIGHT I'VE EVER SEEN, BOYS.
meanwhile lsz is like: guys, calm down, calm down!!
bc he's tied to jl so he's getting all jostled around, poor sweetie-pie lsz
and this is when wwx decides to step in, with a long suffering sigh and a very unamused: hey, look here.
THE WAY LSZ AND LJY'S FACES LIGHT UP WHEN THEY SEE LWJ NEVER GETS OLD
also it cracks me up how there's a breeze elegantly rustling through wwx's and wn's hair.
it's so obviously for the Aesthetic bc literally nobody else's hair is doing that 😆😆😆
ALSO ALSO, OMG WWX IS SO FREAKING HILARIOUS HERE
Wwx unsheathes suibian and hands it to wn KNOWING THAT ALL THESE KIDS ARE TERRIFIED OF THE FEARSOME GHOST GENERAL
AND THE KIDS ALL START PANICKING AS WN TAKES THE SWORD AND STALKS TOWARDS THEM
and wn ning totally plays along bc he slices through those ropes in the most menacing way possible AND ALL THE KIDS SLAM THEIR EYES CLOSED AND HAVE A FULL-BODY FLINCH AND IT'S HILARIOUS
wwx gets sulky that the kids seem more scared of wn than him lol
we see the dumber kids make a break for it but oyzz, with his big kind heart, stops them bc hey, remember there's a horde of evil puppets outside??
lol, wwx smirks at the dumb kids.
lsz: master wei, you're here to save us! you didn't send people to capture us right?
and wwx is like, do i LOOK like i have that kind of money?
lsz is like, ah, yes, i remember that you are TRAGICALLY POOR.
kid doesn't pull punches, does he lol. and he says it so mildly too
wwx's whole reaction here is like, yeah okay, i deserved that one lol
wwx starts grilling the kids for info, which ljy gladly provides, and lwj gives him and lsz a "well done" for their efforts
oooh, now jin ling is approaching wwx
lwj sees him out of the corner of his eye and IMMEDIATELY places himself in front of wwx
which cracks me up bc this is a full grown man here squaring up against a kid who's like, twelve (okay, 16 but still!)
ofc lsz and ljy follow lwj's lead and put themselves between jl and wwx too
wwx thinks they're all being ridiculous
wwx: what are you guys doing? you're surrounding him.
so he nudges the lan kids away and then grabs lwj's upper arm and literally tugs him away from where he was about to throw hands with a child
ljy: you want to stab him again?
lsz: jingyi!
thank you, lsz, tell him to leave my bratty son alone ☹️
wwx essentially waves it all off and is like, hey guys lets focus on getting out of here first, yeah?
jin ling looks ashamed, my poor boy. he feels all guilty for stabbing wwx 😞
now they're plot talking about how they're gonna get out of the cave, what with the horde of evil puppets and all
they make it to the entrance of the cave and we see a whole bunch of cultivators drop in for a party, i guess
oyzz: dad! *runs off to be with dad*
jc: jin ling what are you waiting for? your death?
I LOVE WATCHING JC BE AN UNCLE TO JL
HE'S SO ANGRY WITH HIS AFFECTION LOLOL
oh hey, one of the rando juniors called out "mom!"
that's so cool actually??? we don't really get a lot of lady cultivators but apparently one of them is there to save her kid!!
uh oh, Uncle Lan does not look happy to be here
lwj leads all the lan juniors to lqr and he bows politely to him
the lan juniors all join lqr and stand behind him but lwj very pointedly stands before lqr and makes no move to get closer to him as wwx joins him at his side
lqr: wangji, come here
lwj looks at him briefly, like he wants to say something, before looking down
bc no, he's not leaving wwx's side ever again lqr, so you better get used to it
now some rando lady cultivator is shouting at lwj. she's all "you're undeserving of your reputation!!"
and i'm sitting here like, HEY LADY, WATCH YOUR MOUTH OR COME FIGHT ME
YOU KNOW NOTHING, LADY, NOTHING AT ALL
wwx interrupts her rant
wwx: here you go again!
he probs would've said more but then jc interrupts
jc: we have to do this
and he probs wouldve said more but FUCKING SU SHE INTERRUPTS AS IF HE HAS ANY VALUE AT ALL
LOL JC’s eyes slide over from wwx to su she and he looks at su she WITH SUCH CONTEMPT AND IRRITATION, IT'S GREAT
THAT'S HOW I LOOK AT SU SHE ALL THE TIME LOLOLOL
ss: blah blah we found you cuz you stole kids blah blah
and wwx is like, EXCUSE YOU, I JUST SAVED THOSE KIDS' LIVES. HOW ABOUT SAYING THANK YOU???
now wwx is gonna get clever and start talking circles around this crew of idiot cultivators
wwx: your party seems a bit weak, guys. shouldn't jgy and lxc be here with you?
ss: blah blah assassination attempt against jgy blah blah lxc is tenderly nursing him back to health blah blah
then su she implies that wwx was the one who tried to kill jgy
STFU SU SHE
wwx snorts
ss: why are you laughing??
wwx: oh, nothing. i was just surprised that jgy could get hurt so easily
and here we get some oyzz time
oyzz: dad, i don't think he really did it. last time, he saved us in coffin town. this time, he rescued us too!
oyzz's dad: don't speak nonsense, you silly child
YOU WANNA GO, OYZZ'S DAD? DON'T TALK TO THE BOY THAT WAY, I WILL FIGHT YOU.
wwx: why didn't the nie clan come?
Nhs pops in from where he was hiding: oh, pardon me! master wei, i don't know anything about this. i'm just here to make up the numbers
ILU NHS, I'M PERSONALLY GONNA GIVE YOU AN ANCIENT FANTASY CHINA OSCAR
LOL i love how after popping up to say that, he just scoots himself away and behind the other cultivators again
now the idiot cultivators are airing their grievances against wwx
ugh, sect leader yao is talking again and we get to see mob mentality in action
GOD THEY ALL NEED TO STFU
BUNCH OF LOSER NOBODIES
they're still hurling accusations at my sunshine boy and it's making me angry
wwx: I won't admit to what i didn't do
YOU TELL ‘EM, WWX!!
Fucking su she chimes in with some bullshit and so wwx decides to do a public service and try to teach these losers some critical thinking skills by laying out Valid Points for Plot Reasons
Lesson gets cut short bc oops, here come more evil zombie puppets with a strong gust of wind for ambience
LOOK AT JC GO WITH THAT ZIDIAN
LOVE LOVE LOVE IT
but it fails on it's second strike!! jc looks at it in shock, like what's going on??
wwx must've seen that happen bc suddenly we see his flute boomerang the puppet that was headed for jc
and wwx places himself in front of him BC THAT'S HIS BROTHER, THE BROTHER HE LOVES
AND HE'S SO WORRIED FOR HIM WHEN HE SEES JC SPIT UP BLOOD
YUNMENG BROOOOOSSSSSSS *SOB*
oh, now we see lqr spit up blood and lwj, being the good nephew that he is, swoops in to fight off the puppets that had been attacking his uncle
god, lwj is such a good person bc he just blocked a hit aimed for sect leader yao
Sect leader yao
LWJ PROTECTED SECT LEADER YAO
LWJ TRULY IS AN HONORABLE MAN BC I WOULD'VE LET THAT HIT KILL HIM AND BEEN LIKE, OOPS, TOTALLY MISSED THAT, MY BAD
i mean, c'mon, is ANYONE gonna miss him if he dies??? no, nobody would be torn up over sect leader yao dying
his wake would have been a party, like ding dong the witch is dead sort of party
lol, lwj probs regrets this later on when he’s chief cultivator and has to listen to that loser rant endlessly about nothing, like, damn, i should’ve let him die back then
you know, i'm just gonna enjoy lwj fighting. he's got the best fight scenes tbh
we find out that everyone's spiritual energy has been blocked and they're defenseless against those puppets
lsz tells them all that they need to get into the cave where there's a protective circle they can fix and activate
then fucking su she is all like no don't go in there, it's probs a trap to kill us!!
SHUT UP SU SHE
wwx: staying outside will get you killed. going inside will also get you killed. either way, you're dead. but at least going inside will stall them.
wwx: su she, why are you in such a hurry to ask everyone to die with you? What’s your intent?
GET REKT SU SHE
Lol nhs is like are you guys going in or not? i'll just go inside myself if you won't and all his cultivators are like, yeah yeah, let's do that
everyone's fleeing to the cave now except for su she and his crew
wwx: su she, you'll stay here? fine, stay here. You sure are brave!
THE WAY WWX SAYS THAT THO, THICK WITH MOCKERY AND SARCASM
I LOVE HIM SO MUCH
while all the cultivators go into the cave lwj and wn are still fighting until everyone's gone
wwx: lan zhan, come on!
BC EVERYONE'S MADE IT INSIDE NOW AND LWJ NEEDS TO COME WITH HIM AND STAY SAFE!!
lwj slices down two more puppets and then zooms to wwx's side
lqr activates the protective circle and then holds wwx (and by extension lwj) at sword point
lwj: grand master
lwj looks at him like he wants him to understand, but he sees the lqr is not having it so he lowers his gaze
poor lwj 😔
lqr: what do you want?
wwx: nothing. but since you're all here let's have a chat!
lol, wwx sits down and makes himself comfortable even tho he's surrounded by cultivators that want him dead
The cultivators are all like, we don't wanna talk with you!!
wwx: aren't you interested in the reason you got poisoned? i swear, i'm not that capable of poisoning you all without being discovered
nhs: that's right. i think what he says makes sense
nhs is really good at what he does, isn't he?
he knows exactly when he should interject to get the crowd to do as he wants
wwx starts to walk them through the basic critical thinking process, and lsz adds in his clever insights as well
then there's a bunch of plot talk that idc about
nhs: master wei, what should we do now?
NHS IS SO GOOD AT WHAT HE DOES OMG
Wwx is like, there's only two groups with spiritual power. me and lwj are onE group, and the juniors are the other group.
wwx: as for the rest, i don't think it's inappropriate to describe you as week and useless
I DON'T THINK IT'S INAPPROPRIATE TO DESCRIBE YOU AS WEAK AND USELESS
LOLOLOL LOVING THIS
wwx: if i really wanted to do something, could these young men stop me?
then fucking su she starts talking again
ss: blah blah blah kill me if you want blah blah we aint scared blah blah
Man, you have NO IDEA how much i want you dead, su she
wwx: may i ask who you are?
GET REKT SU SHE
wwx starts teaching them critical thinking again and we're again shown how the juniors are way more clever that these full-fledged cultivators
wwx looks so proud whenever the juniors chime in
su she starts talking again
ss: blah blah you're being fooled by the enemy blah blah bl--
AND THEN HE STOPS MID-SENTENCE
wwx: continue. why'd you stop?
some rando cultivator accuses wwx of doing that to su she and wwx is ADORABLE about it
his eyes get all wide and he frowns with a "well, don't look at me!" expression
HE'S SO CUTE, I LOVE HIM
and lsz and ljy tell us that it's a lan clan specialty - THE SILENCE SPELL
AND WE CUT TO A SHOT OF LWJ COMPLETELY BLANK FACED AS HE TELLS WWX TO CONTINUE
LIKE A BOSS
GET REKT SU SHE
so wwx continues and is like, isn't it weird how fucking su she wanted you all to die out there with him and now he wants to stop me from figuring out who poisoned you? now, why would an ally do that, hm?
I LOVE YOU WWX
IT'S SO FUN WATCHING SU SHE GET UTTERLY DESTROYED THAT I NEED TO RECORD THIS NEXT PART FOR POSTERITY
wwx: it seems that the su clan doesn't get along with the lan clan
ljy: indeed (he says with a disgusted look at su she LOL)
lwj: the su clan is a branch of the lan clan
and here, nhs gets ljy's attention
nhs: what's the story?
LOLOL, NHS YOU GOSSIP YOU
AND THE WAY LJY EAGERLY IS LIKE, HELL YEAH LEMME TELL YOU
lsz interrupts tho so he can give a more tactful explanation
lsz: master nie, you may not know but ss built his own clan after departing from the lan clan
lsz: their techniques are similar to the lan clan's, they're also good at music. even ss's spiritual tool is modeled after hanguang jun's 7-string guqin
ljy: not "departed from." they were expelled for betraying the lan clan. and it's not only that! there are funnier reasons too!
TELL ME MORE LJY. I WANT TO KNOW ALL THE FUNNY REASONS WHY SS WAS KICKED OUT
lsz tries to stop ljy but LJY IS NOT GONNA KEEP HIS OPINIONS TO HIMSELF
ljy: ss not only imitates everything from us, he also forbids ppl from discussing how he imitates hanguang jun
LOL, ATTA BOY LJY
ha, you can hear lsz scolding him in the background
unfortunately ss gets the ability to speak back and immediately gets everyone to start bickering
we see wwx roll his eyes and get this "I am so Done" expression on his face
i feel ya bro
more bickering, ljy giving as good as he gets, which is awesome, and then ljy says something that gives wwx an "aha!" moment
ljy: who are you calling arrogant? which clan's demon-subdue melody was played badly without even noticing?
and with that, wwx figures out how the other cultivators lost their spiritual power. but he's gonna make a show out of explaining it bc Drama.
wwx: lqr, may i ask you a question?
lqr: hmph. if you have a question, why not ask lwj?
wow, very mature of you lqr. what kind of example are you setting for your juniors?
we get a shot of lwj here and he looks at his uncle and then looks away with his mouth pinched
i think that hurt him. he still loves his uncle, after all.
wwx: then i'll ask him
wwx: lan zhan, even tho the su clan departed from the lan clan, they imitated the lan clan exclusive technique, right?
lwj: yes
wwx: one of the techniques is magic music that can exorcise evil with a guqin. since the su clan copied you, lots of their disciples use the guqin too, right?
lwj: yes
wwx: ss left the clan after learning the technique but since he didn't learn it to perfection, his disciples play with many mistakes, right?
GET REKT SU SHE
TODAY IS DRAG SU SHE DAY AND I AM LIVING FOR IT
lwj: yes
wwx: so even if they played music badly during battle, the lan clan wouldn't mind at all. they'd just assume it's careless mistakes. they'd assume someone confuse the score rather than thinking they did it on purpose
then he poses very confidently and says "isn't that right, clan leader su?"
su she goes to pluck the guqin strings and wwx reminds him that he has no spiritual power rn
ss: what are you insinuating by saying all that?
wwx: did i not say it clear enough that you feel like i'm just insinuating?
WWX IS FULL OF ZINGERS TODAY, IT'S AMAZING
and then wwx spells it all out for them bc as all know, these cultivators are all idiots.
and the episode ends there!
not a lot of wangxiantics aside from the bit at the beginning BUT SO MANY QUALITY LINES FROM WWX AND THE JUNIORS
AND WE GET TO WATCH SU SHE GET DRAGGED FOR HALF AN EPISODE
NOT A BAD WAY TO PASS THE TIME, TBH
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Adam Allistair Freemont
Aliases: Edwin Lockhart, William Silva, Francis LaRue, Everett Brighton, James Fenwick
Apparent Age: "29"
Birthday: August 11th, 1897
Death Day: December 19th, 1926
Species: Vampire (Siren Bloodline)/Bloodbound Spirit
Gender: Cis Man
Pronouns: he/him
Sexuality: Primarily Heterosexual
Occupation: Photographer
Residence: Santa Marta, California; Morgan Kendrick's Psychic Realm
Universe: Primarily original lore but also Vampire the Masquerade where he's a Camarilla Toreador who defected to the Sabbat.
Appearance:
Height: 6'0
Build: Tall and lanky with angular shoulders and long limbs. He has a trim, lightly muscled physique with long delicate fingers and soft hands.
Eye Color: Luminous Yellow/Gold with slitted cat-like pupils and a darker, amber band around the edges.
Hair Color/Texture: Black, 1b hair texture. Just long enough for the ends to brush against his shoulders. Partially brushed back and parted to the right but a significant amount of his hair ends up falling into his face.
Face: Angular with a square jaw and high cheekbones. He has a mostly straight nose with a slight convex curve to the bridge. He has deep set eyes with heavy lids and dark circles and usually looks somewhat sleepy but in a strangely sensual way. Defined lips that are usually curved into a sadistic little smirk. He's quite attractive but in a way that feels vaguely dangerous or even predatory.
Distinguishing Characteristics: Adam has bright golden eyes with slitted cat-like pupils. He also has a rather large, jagged scar on his back, located between his shoulder blades. I'd include his *other* distinguishing characteristic but that's kinda NSFW ;)
Posture/Body Language: Confident, even arrogant, chin up, shoulders back but not in a way that looks particularly stiff. His body language is generally relaxed and easy, bringing to mind a big cat at rest -- there's always something about the way he moves that implies a predatory nature laying beneath his cool, collected surface. Adam walks with clear purpose and long, smooth strides and always knows how to make an entrance.
Voice: Soft and smooth with a deep timbre and confident inflection. Adam's voice is somewhat like poisoned honey or arsenic laced velvet -- smooth and sweet but with something slightly off.
Clothing Style: Adam prefers dark colors -- burgundy, blood red, black, charcoal, rich deep browns and the ocassional pop of gold or cream or a white dress shirt. He wears primarily expensive, tailored button downs made from things like silk, velvet or very high thread count cotton with the sleeves rolled up and the top three (or four) buttons undone. Sometimes with brocade, floral or striped patterns. If it's cooler out, he'll wear a black blazer or something similar. When it comes to pants, it's almost entirely black or charcoal tailored pants or pitch black jeans. He usually wears very few accessories -- a nice watch, a belt, a silver and garnet ring and a pendant on a thin silver or gold chain. Generally wearing pointed toe oxfords or other dress shoes. When it comes to outerwear, Adam generally prefers things like wool coats and the ocassional leather jacket (always real leather, too) (to get a better idea, check out his [Pinterest Board]
Skills
Social: Manipulation, Lying, Gaslighting, Flirting, Proper Etiquette, Public Speaking, Blame Shifting, Negging, Seduction
Physical: knife combat, some hand to hand combat, basic combat training (circa 1914), long range firearms/sniping, Ballroom Dancing, Fencing, Horseback riding, the carnal arts
Talents: Photography, Drawing, Poetry, Lying, Being an Asshole, Manipulation, Painting, Seduction, Sex
Knowledges: Fluent in French & Italian, Masters in Psychology (circa 1926), Photo Development (wet plate, autochrome, modern methods), some basic knowledge of financial law and property law
Hobbies: Photography, writing, breaking pretty girls, avoiding his deep-seated psychological issues, general hedonism
Special: Emotional Influence, Telepathy, Emotional Transference, Enhanced Stamina, Enhanced Strength, "Immortality", Enhanced Senses (esp sight), minor regeneration, sweet blood, emotional radar/supernatural empathy, hypnosis/mind control
Psyche
Strengths: Charismatic, quick-thinking, clever, good at understanding the thought processes of others, empathetic, deeply romantic, treats service workers well, dedicated, generally calm, high emotional intelligence, has critical thinking skills, polite*, can be incredibly sweet, adaptable, pays a lot of attention to his partners in bed, passionate, artistic, creative, protective
Weaknesses: selfish, self-absorbed, arrogant, manipulative, almost completley lacks compassion, disdain for basically everyone around him, dishonest, has a horrible temper, needs constant attention and praise, has a massive inferiority/superiority complex, overconfident, easily susceptible to flattery, deep-seated intimacy issues, can't stand being wrong, terrified of vulnerability, paranoid, detached from his own emotions/denies his own humanity, callous, sadistic, can be incredibly rude, actually a bit of a coward, condescending, possessive, jealous and generally kind of a dick.
Fears: genuine intimacy, abandonment/loneliness,true death, being buried alive
Goals: To finally create the perfect art piece (i.e., break someone in just the right way -- he's not even sure what this MEANS, he's just sure he'll "know" when he finally does it), to just enjoy his immortality.
Personality: On the surface, Adam seems likable enough -- at least, at first. He's incredibly charming and thoughtful, often anticipating people's wants before they're even able to articulate them, witty, intelligent and seemingly very polite...
But beneath that surface lurks a spoiled rich kid who learned early on in life that having money, being good looking and charming meant he could get away with almost anything. Adam is self-absorbed and arrogant and almost everything he does is a carefully crafted performance intended to get people on his side and manipulate them into doing what he wants.
Beneath even that, which he desperately tries to ignore, is a little boy who was spoiled by his mother and entirely ignored by his (largely absent) father -- a young man who was traumatized by being forced to fight in WWI and who is full of deep-seated fears and insecurities.
To make up for this, Adam is often sadistic towards the people around him -- but in that way where it's difficult to tell that he's actually being cruel until one looks back at the conversation.
He has difficulty genuinely connecting to others because of those insecurities and instead uses his powers as a Siren to make the people around him love and adore him-- no matter how badly he treats them.
Life
Best Memory: Being gifted his first camera, meeting his Maker.
Worst Memory: Somewhere between when he almost died during WWI and his actual death...
Biggest Achievement: Getting his Masters
Prized Possession: Silver and Garnet ring gifted to him by his Maker, his first camera, his black 2020 Ferrari Portofino (with the red leather interior), (he also has an engraved custom sniper rifle but a friend picked the model and shit for me and I cannot remember what it is for the life of me)
Favorite Color: Red, Gold
Favorite Food:
-Mortal Food: Partial to anything rich and flavorful, prefers food that's not pointlessly ostentatious (nothing coated in gold leaf, that's absurd), dry red wines, Italian Cream Cake, Eggs Benedict, Crepes Suzette
-Blood: Blood taken in the heat of the throes of passion from someone that's truly and deeply in love with and obsessed with him...
Favorite Scents: Blood, Gasoline, Cloves, Cinnamon, Resin, YSL Nuit, roses, vanilla, rain, the sharp smell of a cloudless winter night
Favorite Songs: Winter, 1st Movement - Vivaldi, Raindrops - Chopin, La Vie En Rose - Edith Piaf
Can't Leave Home Without: At least one knife somewhere on his person.
Birthplace: San Francisco, California
Childhood: Adam is the only child out of six in his family to survive to adulthood with four older siblings who had either in infancy, had been stillborn or died of tuberculosis when Adam was still too young to remember them. He had one younger sibling, a sister named Mary who was killed in an accident at the age of 6 when Adam was 8 years old. His parents were already a little bit older by the time he was born and his father was the owner of an incredibly lucrative railroad line and had profited greatly from the Gold Rush as well as owning multiple properties in San Francisco and neighboring Santa Marta...
Due to the loss of her other children, Adam's mother doted on him -- giving into his every whim, supplying him with the best education she could and basically just spoiling the ever loving fuck out of him. His father, on the other hand, was always busy with work and when he was home, had nothing but criticism for Adam who desperately tried to gain his approval to no avail.
Adolescence: Adam developed a passion for photography as a teenager and discovered that being good-looking, clever and rich meant he could get away with A LOT more than most people and also meant that he rarely heard "no" and accepted it as an answer even less often (though he rarely resorted to force to get his way, relying instead on bribery, flattery, blackmail and implied threats). All of this gave him quite an interest in psychology and he intended to become a clinical psychologist. During his adolescence, Adam would have a great many girlfriends and despite being a selfish and manipulative little shit, was actually not the world's worst boyfriend and no hint of the violent temper and genuine sadism he'd develop after being Changed.
Adulthood: Adam's education would be interrupted by the outbreak of WWI,which if asked he will describe as "incredibly distasteful and personally inconvenient." He was a skilled marksman and sniper but was otherwise unremarkable -- much to his father's disdain. After nearly dying in one of the trenches of France after taking a grievous bayonet wound in the last few months of the war, Adam would be sent back from the frontlines and would shortly begin work on continuing his education...
However -- despite the fact that he would complete all seven years necessary to get his degree, Adam's interest in becoming an actual psychologist wouldn't ever come to fruition. In 1925, he would meet Amelia Madeleine Smith -- an unbelievably beautiful and charming socialite from Santa Marta who would see Adam's potential as a source of money and influence for the Nightingale Court of Northern California. She would spend the next year carefully grooming him to become her protege -- manipulating him much in the same way he would later manipulate the women he dates as a vampire -- using emotional transference, mind control and mundane manipulation to cause him to fall madly in love with her... In December of 1925, Amelia would finally perform the ritual of transformation on him and bring Adam over into the world of the Supernatural.
Unfortunately for Adam, his Change would take nearly two weeks to complete -- two weeks spent in absolute agony beyond anything he'd experienced before. Amelia, believing the most important first step for a newly born vampire is to break their bonds to humanity would kidnap his mother during this change and leave her for him to kill upon waking. Adam would remain with Amelia (who used her bond as Adam's maker to control most of his actions and her abilities as a Siren to continue to influence his emotions) until 1980 when she was killed by a member of the Bram Park Wolf Pack in Santa Marta, leaving Adam behind. During this period, Adam would end up being "taken in" by a bonded pair of Stryza -- Camille Belikova and Lucy DeSantos and would act as their primary draw for new playthings.
Recent: Adam met Morgan Kendrick at the Velvet Box goth club in Santa Marta when Morgan was twenty two years old and would sweep her off her feet, intending to make her into his "masterpiece"... Three years into this relationship, Adam would finally Change Morgan, which would break the initial control he had over her and result in her, in a fit of rage, completely draining him and through a magical fluke, causing his spirit to become bonded/fused with her blood...
Recently, Adam's presence has disappeared from Morgan's psyche due to the machinations of Miss Belikova and her wife -- though it appears that the two of them are still inextricably linked in a way beyond the usual bond between Maker and Fledgling.
Relationships
Family: Lawrence Freemont (Father; Deceased), Anne Freemont (Mother; Deceased), Mary Freemont (Sister; Deceased)
Lovers: Amelia Smith (Maker; Deceased), Morgan Kendrick (Fledgling, Ex, Soulbond), Many other unnamed girls.
Friends: Camille Belikova, Lucille DeSantos, Jonathan Andreason
Enemies: Morgan Kendrick, the Bram Park Wolfpack
Acquaintances: Miranda Cortez (Queen of the Nightingale Court of Santa Marta)
Income: Moderately Wealthy
Vehicles: 2020 Ferrari Portofino
Residences: Penthouse Apartment in Vista Rosa, a small Victorian row house in Val Del Mar and a 1br/1ba apartment in Park Verde (all located in Santa Marta)
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shepherd recruit form
carly did this so like hmmm imma gonna do that, but i do wanna see y’all do it if you wanna 🥺🥺🥺
biographical info
name: andromache hatche, vestier swuthersul, “anne”
callsign: arcadia
gender: cis woman
sexuality: pansexual
pronouns: she/her
age: ??? appears around 25-26, autumn born
background info
weapon: sword, hand and a half. proficient in using a shield
magic specialization: battle mage, fond of fire
racial heritage: ket
education: circle-trained
miscellaneous info
past jobs: bodyguard, stablehand, general mercenary work which didn’t last long due to issues with group dynamics (others in groups, not her)
likes: boats/the ocean, honeyed milk, training, quiet time with her little notebook and her paints
dislikes: enclosed spaces (esp after ch.4), unreality, the chewing of pencils/pens
strengths: strong willed, good judge of character, honest, creative
weaknesses: strong willed, quick temper, sarcastic, secretive, prone to going off along
hobbies/special skills: can paint/draw with skill from life, skilled at traveling/camping, good at riddles, left handed
animal affinity: great horned owl
major arcana: strength (reversed)
alignment: chaotic good
hogwarts house: griffindor
MBTI: ENFJ
personality
heart of gold/will of iron
rebellious/loyal
independent/social
tactful/straightforward
bold/cautious
charming/stoic/intimidating
witty/sincere
resentful/forgiving
self-preserving/self-sacrificing
book-smart/street-smart
one-god/atheist/old faith(?)
relationships
best friend(s): trouble, tallys, chase, blade
preferred mission partner(s): blade, chase (not allowed -b), tallys
friendly rival(s): red, ayla
love interest(s): blade (young fling with red)
ship name(s): ???
first kiss scenario: “in the heat of battle” 🥺🤪
enemies: none besides ideological/group ones or the usual suspects
art/appearance
a mage woman with chest length ash blonde hair and bright golden eyes. she has several face scars, several disappearing into her hair; she also sports several burn scars and a strange ring-like scar around her right pinky finger. she sports a few ear piercings and a tattoo on the inside of her right wrist from her heritage.
#shepherds of haven#shoh#oc tag#oc: andromache hatche#i should draw her again ;-;#i needed to figure out her types n shit which this was a good excuse
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the world is quiet here
stanley uris is finally in control.
suicide ment.
read it on my ao3 and ff.net!
stanley didn’t mind the empty space before him, if he was going to be honest. and generally that’s exactly what he was, good and kind stanley uris, good and reliable stanley uris, good and faithful stanley uris.
he was now good and dead. good and gone. good and slashed-his-wrists-in-the-tub.
people probably didn’t view him as good anymore, but great, a hero within his own right, because that’s what people would do when others took to a razor blade instead of a therapist. hell, stan had done it himself back in junior year of college, when the kid three doors down from him jumped off the balcony with a note pinned to his chest. he had shed the crocodile tear and made the poor bastard out to be someone they would all remember for years to come. the irony, the wry thought crossed his mind, is that i can’t remember his name. and they won’t remember mine.
patty would, of course. the one of seven people he felt guilty leaving, the good and demure patty uris, patty uris who would cry at the funeral but be able to cover the expenses on her own because that’s the kind of woman he married. she was the most stable of wives and doted on him like her life depended on it, and in some instances he supposed, it did. life was not easy for a child growing up jewish in the nineteen fifties, and she would whisper with a dry throat what a nightmare it was to be a child growing up jewish and female in the nineteen fifties. her nails would rake across her arms like a nervous habit when she told him these stories until he had the sense to hold her until she stopped trembling. the tics went away eventually but the rasp in her throat when she repeated “Peacock Patty” never faded. he had dealt with his own share of names stan the man the jew with the plan but nothing that left him reeling in bed on nights when it was hard to shut his eyes.
so yes, patty would remember. his parents too, but he didn’t need them to do him that kindness, he wouldn’t have minded being forgotten by donald and andrea uris. they had been good parents as any tried, but in the end slowly ebbed to the back of his mind with the rest of Derry. stanley always thought this was odd and patty always thought he was lying to her, but he had no recollection of his childhood. there was a name and a spot on the map with a red pin stuck through, but names and faces were troubling to recall. the only thing he could recount with complete certainty was the losers club, billstanrichieeddiebeverlymikeben. they were names he did keep from patty though, because maybe it was for the better, maybe it was for her safety, or maybe it was for his.
eventually it would have come to this anyways. either the stupid dancing clown could bring him to this quiet world, or he could deliver himself. stanley had always enjoyed being the one in control, but not the man in charge. he would mastermind the projects, keep the schedule, and ensure that the work was done right, but he stepped aside for someone with a loud mouth to make sure it all happened. when things fell out of his control, when he cleaned his glasses four times but they still sat wrong on his face, when he flicked the light switch eight times but he still had to call patty to make sure she was okay, that’s when the fear would settle deep inside of him.
the same that reached through his intestines and pulled on his ribcage when mike billstanrichieeddiebeverlymikeben hanlon had called him, when he asked for stan to do the impossible. give up his control.
his last exertion of power had led him here, and he really didn’t mind it, if he was being honest. which he was, because that’s just who stanley uris is. good and honest and nice and good and stanny boy and kookie kookie and a sliver of a coke bottle and dead.
___
eddie hated it here. the walls were all fucking white but there actually weren’t any walls it was just white empty nothing that he just kept walking towards with no goddamn avail. if he had a watch he would have to guess that he had been here for at least three hours, but time and space didn’t seem to fucking matter when you’re in a white never-ending nothing.
he kept walking because what else was there to do.
he called out for richie once or twice, though. no one answered.
___
stanley sat with his legs crossed, because any other way would’ve made him feel sick. he looked out into the vast blackness of the new world he inhabited, until a voice cut through the eternal silence. “richie? are you there?” a faded figure in the distance, just a shadow of a man. billstanrichieeddiebeverlymikeben. stanley tapped on his knee in groups of four.
“rich i swear i’m not mad!”
taptaptaptap
“if this is a joke it’s really not fucking funny dickwad!”
taptaptaptap taptaptaptap
“richie?”
taptaptaptap
“richie are” taptaptaptap “you there?”
“please.” the voice broke. stanley now lie in the aftermath.
“please be there.”
taptaptaptap taptaptaptap
if stanley wasn’t smarter than that, he could swear that the man calling out was little eddie kaspbrak the asthmatic with an ass all grown up. against all of the white, he could see the blood dripping in a trail behind him. he could understand the mess, because his wrists made their own. this is how stanley uris knew he was not looking at eddie kaspbrak, because that boy would have never let himself bleed freely. (nonviable tissue, ischemia, haematoma, immunosuppression) (robin, blue jay, sparrow, bald eagle)
“richie!” stanley almost reached for the man’s hand as he trailed by, still wailing for a man that was never going to come. he thought better of it, though. he didn’t know this man. taptaptaptap. he didn’t know what would happen. taptaptaptap.
eventually the voice faded and stanley was left again, alone with the clean white room. and he didn’t mind it, because it reminded him of the puffy clouds against a bright blue sky, standing on the tip of the world with billstanrichieeddie- what were their names again? billstanrich- how long ago had it been? bill- what promises, mike? what did we promise?
stanley didn’t mind the empty space before him, if he was going to be honest. and he always was, because that’s the kind of man everyone needed him to be.
___
eddie hated it here. it was so fucking empty.
i just adore writing from stanley's point of view esp. when there's no romance it's just stan being the man. also BIG sad react for eddie in this, it made me rly sad to write.
please leave a comment and i will attempt to murder a killer clown with a baseball bat after yelling "welcome to the loser's club asshole!" for you
#it#it 2017#it 2019#it chapter one#it chapter two#stanley uris#wyatt oleff#andy bean#eddie kaspbrack#jack dylan grazer#james ransone#stanley uris fanfiction#it fanfiction#it chapter two fanfic#it fanfic#it chapter two spoilers#it 2019 spoilers
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