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visenyasdragon · 4 months

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Sea Dragon Queen

Pairing: Alicent Hightower x Rhaenyra Targaryen. Many more to come in future chapters.

Word count: 2.1k

Summary: An AU where Targaryens have braincells <3 they still have their flaws and prejudices, but not to dynasty-ending levels. No Dance, Rhaenyra never marries Laenor because Corlys has the sense to not marry off his clearly gay son. A fix it fic, if you will. I hope you'll enjoy it <3

Content warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply

Author's note: This is my first fanfiction and non-academic writing I've done since like 2009, so please be kind to me! English is also my second language.

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Rhaenyra I

112AC

“I intend to marry… the Lady Laena Velaryon” the king said in a quiet, clear voice, “though not a day before her fifteenth nameday”.

Ser Otto did his best to conceal his astonishment. All his efforts thwarted, his daughter’s reputation soiled to no avail. “A wise choice, my king. In these times of peril and uncertainty from the east, a strong alliance with Driftmark is paramount. The Hand is ready to steadfastly support the Crown in all his endeavors.” There he is, ready to ingratiate himself further into my father’s graces despite his defeat, ever the cunning politician, she thought with irritation. Rhaenyra found it difficult not to laugh at just how predictable Ser Otto Hightower was. If only her uncle Daemon were here, to share this moment with her!

At the opposite end of the table, Lord Corlys looked as if he had just won a naval battle, been granted a son, and triumphed in cyvasse all at once. There is scarce a happier man in all of King’s Landing, Rhaenyra thought. She did not yet know whether she felt happy or anxious at the prospect of a stepmother younger than herself, and so soon after her own lady mother’s death. The time for sorting out my feelings will come later, she told herself, making an effort to steady her face. Rhaenyra looked at Alicent, but her friend’s countenance might as well have been a porcelain mask.

“My King, allow me to express my gratitude and happiness for honoring my House with your choice”, the master of ships stated in a glad tone, rising from his seat. “The centuries-old alliance between the last two pillars of Old Valyria will thrive once more. If I may be allowed to make a suggestion… there is not the slightest need for you to defer the wedding, Your Grace. I must confer with my lady wife on this matter, but I believe it is best that the preparations for the union begin at once”.

A gleaming black raven quorked loudly three times while perching on the red sandstone parapet. His piercing, jet-black eyes met Rhaenyra’s, sending an odd feeling down her spine. Grand Maester Mellos chuckled just in the right moment, as was often his way, preventing anybody else from speaking. He was a weathered veteran of a thousand small council sessions, after all. “It is the solemn belief of the Maesters of the Citadel that in order for a marriage to be fruitful, it ought not take place when the bride is too young to bear healthy heirs. The Lady Laena is but a girl of twelve, and I find it most judicious that His Grace elected to delay the wedding for three years.”

Rhaenyra swallowed quietly, trying to hold back her tears. The name of Aemma Arryn seemed to hang in the room and on everyone’s lips, yet none dared speak it. It has only been a few moons since the queen’s passing, and King Viserys’s enduring grief was plain for all to see. He flustered at the maester’s polite words, instantly brought back to the distant, sunny day at the Eyrie when he was but a young man of sixteen, wedded at Queen Alysanne’s instigation to a surpassingly beautiful girl not much older than Laena herself. Rhaenyra felt she could almost read the thoughts in her father’s mind at that moment. He will always love mother best of everyone, she thought. Even more than herself, though it did not wound her. Her late mother was the gentlest creature House Targaryen had yet seen, and she knew all the love and honor in the world would not be enough to match her merits. Despite her younger age, she had made him and molded him into the man he was, for better or for worse, everyone in her family said. She felt a heavy, choking feeling in her chest at the sudden understanding that it was his affection for his dead wife and the child-bride she had been to defer the marriage the realm so desperately needed. Maybe this is his apology to her in a way, Rhaenyra thought. He says, look Aemma, I must do my duty, but I will always love you. I will always honor your memory, in everything that I do.

Ser Otto’s voice broke her out of her reverie.

“As much as I value and respect any maester’s opinion, here is where I must disagree” he protested. Rhaenyra felt as if she could say his next words herself, so little a surprise they were for her. “The realm urgently needs a queen to provide the king with further heirs as soon as possible. Much as young Lady Laena Velaryon surely is, she is of Targaryen blood and will certainly do her duty splendidly. I propose the wedding takes place within a moon’s turn, or else as soon as the preparations can be completed.” Ser Otto finished his speech with the ludicrous confidence of a man who has the matter well at hand. He looked as if he were about to order Alicent’s wedding gown right where he sat. He means for little Laena to die in childbirth not having reached her fourteenth nameday, and for Alicent to take her place instead, Rhaenyra thought angrily.

The king listened to his Hand’s advice with a blank expression. What he said next surprised not only Ser Otto.

“Nevertheless, this is a matter where I resolve to be firm. I respect my future wife too much to bargain with her health and safety. This meeting is at an end.” Viserys rose from his seat at the head of the table, sending the rest of his small council to their feet. In his haste Lord Lyman Beesbury sent his gold-and-onyx council egg scuttering to the floor. “Apologies, my lords” he breathed, trying to recover his symbol of office from beneath the table, but Ser Harrold Westerling was ahead of him, restoring the sphere to its rightful place. The councilmen withdrew from the room one by one. Lord Corlys and King Viserys moved to the latter’s private apartments to discuss the upcoming nuptials and the crown’s response to the trouble in the Stepstones. Alicent meekly followed her visibly discontented father, her gaze firmly set on the floor beneath her. Rhaenyra wanted more than anything to take her into the godswood and talk for hours about the events of the day as they so often did, but she sensed that would have to wait. Her friend walked away sparing not a single glance for her, already engaged in a conversation of sharp, quiet whispers with Ser Otto. She felt a pang of pity towards Alicent. I would give much for her to be daughter to any other man in the realm, she thought. Rhaenyra was the last to depart the small council chamber, her feet unconsciously leading her toward the Dragonpit and Syrax.

The following days and weeks upended Rhaenyra’s world upside down. One by one, reluctantly, as if the king feared her dragon-temper, the startling news reached her, by way of Septa Marlow and Ser Criston Cole and Annara and other servants whose names she did not know, anybody but her father. She was to be fostered at Driftmark and henceforth divide her time equally between the court and High Tide; Alicent was not permitted by the Hand to go with her as her companion; Laenor Velaryon was to serve as the king’s squire and second cupbearer when she was not present; her uncle Daemon was to lead the Royal Fleet alongside Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys into the Stepstones as soon as the troops and supplies for war were prepared. On top of that, when the war was done, it was decided Rhaenyra and Laena were to go on a royal progress throughout the realm, from the Arbor to Winterfell, the two queens to be. It was as if the gods themselves were unsure whether the death of Queen Aemma did not send Rhaenyra a strong enough message that her childhood was at an end. Now was the time to enter the dangerous world of politics and diplomacy, one that Rhaenyra only knew by proxy.

“Perhaps it will be better for you”, said Alicent softly one warm spring afternoon, as they were luxuriating in their favorite spot beneath the weirwood tree, “You will get out of this place, all of these intrigues, whereas I am stuck here as long as my father can keep his chain of Handship. You will see High Tide and the world beyond King’s Landing. And the people will receive an opportunity to see their future queen. I’m sure they will come to love you in no time.”

“Just as you have?” asked Rhaenyra teasingly, planting a soft kiss upon her friend’s cheek. Her skin immediately took on a very pretty pink color. ”I do not mind the travel. In fact, I think it will do Syrax good to stretch her legs and work for her next meal, she has grown rather spoiled as of late. What I do mind is that none of this is my choice. It was not even discussed by the small council at any length. Septa Marlow said that it was all decided by my father and Lord Corlys after the betrothal was agreed upon.”

“And if you were given a choice, you’re certain you wouldn’t have chosen exactly this? You’ve always spoken about wanting to see the wonders across the narrow sea. Well, think of it as the next best thing. You’ll see the wonders across the Blackwater Rush”. They both laughed. For all her love of romance and books, Alicent had a charming way of making Rhaenyra laugh in the most unexpected moments.

“What good can those wonders do to me if I don't have my dear Alicent next to me to tell me their histories? Do you remember when we were walking through the Kingswood a few years ago, during this royal hunt or other, and you corrected our septas repeatedly about the history of the forest? Something about an Andal warlord who vanquished a First Man king there millenia ago? The poor woman got it completely confused with the Faith Militant uprising. How red her face was!”

“Well, septas are not exactly educated to be solemn historians, their duty was foremost to look after us and safeguard our reputation. And you really were very rude and impertinent that day. Septas work very hard, you know” Alicent said with a sweet smile, but Rhaenyra could see that she was flattered to be complimented on her knowledge and intelligence, but her impeccable Hightower breeding would not allow her to disparage sworn members of the Faith. “Besides, I’m sure you will have plenty of people around you to relay you the histories of the various castles and towns you’ll be visiting. Multiple times, even.”

Rhaenyra sighed with irritation. “Yes, I’m sure I’ll be very entertained while various men who’d never met me before will try to charm their way into wedding me. Those men won’t fawn over me. They only want my name and my Valyrian blood for their offspring!” She threw away the three blades of fresh grass she’s been braiding with annoyance.

“Well, I think it’s rather romantic,” Alicent said dreamily, looking into the far distance. She looked her most beautiful in such moments. “It is rare for girls in this realm to get a choice between two suitors, no less two score of them. To have one’s favor sought during tourneys, name made immortal in songs sung by countless bards, to be able to choose the bravest and comeliest of the knights in the lists, to be made the lady of his hearth and home…”

“Yes, yes,” Rhaenyra said impatiently. “I am very lucky to be able to make my choice. You’ve made your point very clear. I am very lucky to live the life I do, with an indulgent father and a kingdom for an inheritance. I know.”

Alicent smiled both sweetly and slyly, now assured she drove her point home and made her beloved friend understand her unusual privilege. “But?”

“But I wish things were… I don’t know, different! I wish I was permitted to see uncle Daemon again. I wish I didn’t have to think about my suitor’s castle size or the number of his armies when choosing a husband. I wish I didn’t have to tour every corner of the realm to make the lords of the realm accept me as their future ruler. My father certainly never did. He’s never been further west than Stonebridge, he told me himself. He was made the future king by the great council and that was the end of it. Why can’t it be the same for me?!”

“Because you are a woman and King Viserys is a man,” Alicent said calmly.

“Yes,” Rhaenyra agreed bitterly. “Because I am a woman and he is a man”.

#house of the dragon spoilers #hotd fanfic #hotd fanfiction #rhaenicent #rhaenyra targaryen #alicent hightower #rhaenyra x alicent #alicent x rhaenyra #hotd au #sea dragon queen #hotd #house of the dragon

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pleasejustletpercyrest · 9 months

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I’m surprised I haven’t caved and done this yet, but I NEED to talk about how fucked up it is that ole Papa Ricky missed out on prime ace/aro representation via Leo Valdez in favor of? Ruining part of his character arc? Let’s get into it.

Essentially, Leo’s entire character is based off of the loser boy who relentlessly flirts with anything that moves because he’s desperate. We see this in almost every book until he starts to get serious, and of course when the Calypso plot line begins. IGNORING THAT ENTIRE SECTION OF THE BOOKS, and instead looking more closely towards the whole “seventh wheel” thing, I would very much like to point my gay little finger and declare Leo on the a-spec.

Leo as a character is very performative, and we see him taking the role of the comedian, or the resident funny guy along with his throwaway usefulness as the engineer and repairer. In his POV multiple times we see a deeper exploration to his thoughts and actions, while in everyone else’s eyes, he’s just annoying, funny, and hyperactive. While this is an entirely different post I should be making in the name of Leo Valdez and all of his quirks and flaws, I also think that this inherently plays into the loneliness and separation that we see over and over again casting him as the third/fifth/seventh wheel.

I think there’s also something very telling about that desperation. Besides Rick very quickly throwing him into a romance to solve most of his “problems”, a lot of the earlier books show him flirting and throwing himself at women, but there’s no SUBSTANCE to it. In my personal experience, and in something very often seen in the aro/Ace community, to fit into social norms, you often try to attach yourself quickly to people, or convince yourself and your peers that you are experiencing crushes/attraction for a way to fit in to conversation and convention. Unintentionally, Rick wrote this little playboy character who is SO EASILY read as queer, specifically ace/aro!!!!

While we can only give the books so much credit for diversity and representation (as they are written by a cishet white man well past his 30s), the way that Leo is written so stereotypically gives me FUEL to headcanon that he is better than written. I like to think of his third wheel era with Piper and Jason as a sort of PART 1 to this realization, and then PART 2 comes around with Hazel and Frank. There could have been so many silly interactions if he was actually pursued as a queer character, and I will forever rage because of the sloppily thrown labels after HoO with Nico’s coming out arc.

(Once again, big W for the representation being shown, but I do have some issues with the execution)

I just imagine Leo, confused, watching these relationships on the Argo II and taking notes about what romantic attraction looks like. He has messy notes scribbled on his palm like:

-Laughs at joke that is NOT funny because they are blinded by love???

-Look like idiots holding hands and staring into each others eyes

-‘I would die for you’ but in a sexy way (aka how to date in demigod 101)

-Whatever the fuck Percy and Annabeth have going on

Relationships, specifically romantic ones, seem to be the only way that Rick truly allows important interactions to happen. What happened to declaring your loyalty but in a platonic sense? What happened to fighting for the power of friendship? What happened to Grover?!?!!!

I also truly believe that there could have been an entirely new angle explored between Nico and Leo’s relationship, and how they could’ve become tentative friends after Leo comes back from the dead, especially after the death of Jason Grace. I see perfectly an interaction that would go something like:

Leo, approaching Nico wearily at the dining pavilion: hey man, how did you realize you were gay?

Nico, not paying much attention, absolutely destroying a bowl of cereal: didn’t like women, liked men

Leo, nodding seriously, knowing full well that he isn’t gay but also not straight: I see…

ADDITIONALLY there could have been such a fun friendship with Piper and Leo if Rick Riordan wasn’t a coward and actually gave Piper a character arc where she was established as queer instead of just sprinkling it in at random. Piper, as a daughter of Aphrodite, with that ‘love sense’, I truly believe they’re could have been such fun scenes such as:

Piper, suspicious that Leo isn’t straight: so…you have any crushes?

Leo, panicking because now he has to think of someone who could reasonably be seen as someone he was crushing on: uh, um, uh, what’re you? A cop???

Piper, getting literally no vibes of any attraction whatsoever from Leo, throwing her tf off: uh, maybe

This also leaves the very real, very hilarious question of what Leo would see if he ever met Aphrodite. As Jason sees a lot of Piper, and Percy sees basically just Annabeth, I think it would be interesting to have an internal dialogue of Leo meeting the goddess of love and having her features shift constantly to try and fit an impossible attraction by melding together traits that are stereotypically pretty or beautiful.

Not all of this was entirely coherent, but I have very strong feelings on this headcanon and I am HORRIBLE at articulating anything in a way that makes sense. Thank you for, once again, coming to my Teddy Talky.

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ichayalovesyou · 2 years

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(Re)Discovering A Strange New Spock: “The Corbomite Maneuver” (1x10)

Previous: Dagger of The Mind

Next: The Menagerie Parts I & II

A meta anthology where I re-examine TOS, especially Spock, in light of the new information Discovery & Strange New Worlds has revealed about him to us.

Onto the Analysis!

Emotional Security

I have been examining this exchange back to back with conversations Spock and Chapel have had where you can visibly trace the affection they have for each other growing. The banter pacing and facial expressions are almost exactly the same.

“Because you are very charming and I am completely missing it?”

If I may be so bold, Spock has A Type: Spunky, professional, blonde, short, and possessing a charming, disarming unwillingness to take Spock too seriously.

I don’t think Spock is quite missing it this time around 😏

Poor Bailey: How Spock & Jim Take Out Their Issues On This Poor Recently Promoted Kid

Spock’s biggest command flaw, especially early on in his relationship to being in command is and always has been this:

Spock treats his subordinates like his father treated him. Spock treats Bailey, this noticeably distressed, too-soon-promoted young lieutenant, like Sarek treats his children when they display emotion.

Instead of logically, reasonably assessing what actions should be taken based off human emotional needs. Instead of using the compassion and empathy we know he has both as a Vulcan and as a Human, he is instead harsh and needlessly condescending.

He is as unforgiving, dismissive, and unaccomadating of Bailey’s anxiety, thus allowing it to worsen. Like Sarek, whom he later compares the Balok, who is just as unforgiving. Leaving it to be Kirk’s problem, which he handles with an equal lack of grace for very different reasons.

Like McCoy accurately observes, Kirk promoted Bailey (too soon) because he reminds Jim of himself. Jim, who was also probably promoted too soon considering the nervous breakdown he has about the weight of captaincy in The Naked Time. Specifically Jim circa 2256, which as we now know, was the beginning of the Klingon War. Before the events that lead to Obsession, where Kirk’s propensity for self-blame was codified into flaw.

Jim is very, very hard on himself but tends to treat everyone else with a certain level of understanding and compassion. Everyone else but Kirk gets to be Human, or really, everyone but Kirk and the people that remind Kirk of himself get to be Human. So he too, lacks extremely necessary compassion for Bailey.

No room for err or patience or forgiveness for an otherwise bright young officer. Caught between Spock’s daddy issues and Kirk’s self-reproach. No wonder this poor kid explodes in the final act and gets away from the Enterprise the moment the opportunity arises.

I honestly think the best indicator of character growth and healing in this regard for both Spock and Jim is how they treat Chekov almost a year later.

Checkmate.

TOS season one Spock is much, much more prone to despair than he is later on. A little less tenacious than how we see him closer to the end of the run. He is bleak in the prospect of a crewman’s death in The Man Trap, his default response is “never been done” in The Naked Time. Spock is unaccustomed to command, and unaccustomed to self-confidence.

Spock, as if this moment is a microcosm of his flawed way of thinking, looks at strategy only one way, chess. A game, I might add, he’s not nearly as good at as he pretends to be (he’s only canonically beaten a teenager who didn’t know how to play, and computers). He knows how to play in theory, but refuses to take into account the unexpected, the illogical.

He thinks strategically as if there could only be one game they’re playing, and only one way to play it. Severely limiting the scope of what is possible to what he is already familiar with, what he thinks will work. Yet again, going out of his way to reaffirm the most miserable and limiting of his beliefs. This at least, he grows out of tactically, if not emotionally.

When he can’t give Jim an answer, he nearly gives into the human instinct to apologize. As we learn, by the time TOS rolls around, Spock hardly ever apologizes to anyone for anything. Anyone except Jim, Christine, and on the very, very rare occasion, Bones.

He’s not ready to be so vulnerable as to apologize to Kirk, not yet. So instead he tries to put it in the most Vulcan way he can “I regret that I can find no other logical alternative”. Even then, he at the very least admits to regret, which is, undoubtedly, an emotion he’s all too familiar with.

“Not Chess Mr. Spock, Poker.”

Spock learns a valuable lesson from Jim about command in this mission! He’s sooooo ready for it not to work, and his interest is piqued when it does actually pay off! You‘d think Vulcans would love Poker considering it relies on statistics and betraying no emotion. Seriously Spock, you’ve heard of Yahtzee but not Poker?

I do find it intriguing (and a mark of Bones & Spock’s burgeoning friendship) that it isn’t Jim who volunteers to teach Poker to Spock, but McCoy! Mr. Pathos himself! Now that’s an off duty encounter I would LOVE to have seen.

Requesting Permission

Pinpointing yet another first in Spock and Jim’s relationship. Reflexively asking to accompany Kirk into a dangerous and unknown situation. We know that within this season that that question will transform into an absolute insistence upon going with Jim.

For all his boasting of logic, it would be illogical for both captain and first officer to needlessly endanger themselves at the same time. A very logical assessment that Spock ignores with increasing frequency on Jim & Bones behalves.

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antihibikase-archive · 1 year

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Cherenverse: Take Heart

I am going to read more on the other Cherens because I really want to make art/write for everyone else’s Cherens,, once my break comes I will go do that but for now. The Parallels Between These Two is driving me insane.

Also I don’t really know what the plot of a Cherenverse video game would be so just imagine that it initially started with an Ultra Hole opening and spitting out Lobanov in Kurosawa’s world. And. They’re trying to close them. Somehow. Also Kurosawa goes through a plot mandated Evil Arc (they all do).

Again, Kurosawa belongs to @citrongarde! Loved discussing this idea so much it’s so cool..

You awaken to the truth, the warmth that you’ve accepted wholeheartedly warping into a never-ending cold that wraps around your body.

The precious memories burned into your mind distort into blurred images you can no longer recall clearly, the voices of those you’ve surrounded yourself with becoming foreign and grating to your ears.

Gestures of kindness morph into that of mockery, a sign of how you’ve fallen from grace, allowing your heart to soften at the mere thought of someone, anyone, accepting you for the flawed and broken person that you are.

Dull as your blades may have gotten, there is nothing to lose by sharpening them once more.

Carefully, you tread across the shared bedroom without a sound. Your steps are deathly quiet, not once shaking Salem from his slumber from the foot of your bed. The others in the room remain at peace, the sound of machinery being a lullaby that conceals your presence.

You’re guided to your desired location and trek with relative ease. You’ve memorized every nook and cranny of the place you’ve once felt comfortable to call a home, reaching out to the cupboards that you and the rest had agreed to never opening out of sheer distrust.

Silly of you to think you could all get along, when the feeling of unease looms over your party like a ghost.

Secrets you prefer to keep from one another are kept close to your chests, an unspoken rule hanging over the air.

At any given moment, any of you could fall into darkness and harm others.

That was the reasoning behind this silly rule.

There was no trust to be built, or a companion to lean on. It was every man for himself.

It always has been.

You refuse to allow your resolve to crumble so easily.

You dislodge the lock from the cupboards and immediately feel your way around for a pair of scissors, a familiar coolness bringing you a sense of calm.

“Kurosawa?”

And at just the right time, the heartless ghost himself steps into the kitchen, concern lacing his tone.

Unconsciously, a part of you thanks the gods that he is alone and unaccompanied by his precious partner, one you’re not confident your blades will hack into pieces easily.

“What are you doing up there? That’s dangerous. Come down here.”

You climb down the counter as he starts worrying over the smallest of things. His hands, solid and not see through, grip onto your shoulders as he inspects you from head to toe.

“Are you alright? Why were you going through the cupboards?”

He’s seen the truth as well, and was driven to madness as a result. The one that stands before you now is but a husk, a pitiful consequence of being weak.

A perfect test subject for your potential, one that has laid dormant for far too long. You have only him to blame for his senseless sentimentalities and helpless queries for peace.

“Kurosawa?” He asks again, voice hushed and unsure.

When you look up, his indigo eyes meet with your red ones, swirling with despair he cannot comprehend.

You wonder if, within the pools of darkness, he sees himself and his flaws, and detests the same things as you do.

“What happened to you?” Is all he can bring himself to ask, his hold on your shoulders loosening. His voice quivered, and for a moment, you wanted to ask him if it was because of the cold or the growing anxiety.

“I’m fine,” You say, a bit too quickly. A bit too chipper for it to be you. A bit too different from the weak self you have presented yourself as. “I’ve just figured out what I needed to get stronger.”

At the mention of that word, his face pales.

“Stronger? Oh, no no no, Kurosawa,”

In a futile attempt to calm you, both his hands gently press down on your shoulders, a gesture of soothing warmth and gentleness that only makes you feel ill.

“You’re fine just the way you are, alright? You’re plenty strong.”

For someone that was supposed to be you from another world, another timeline, he was willfully settling for a role less than perfect, content to stay within the shadows.

“I believe in you, okay? I’m proud of you.”

You refuse to share your name with such an impostor, much less his ideals.

When he wraps his arms around you in hopes that you wake from what he perceives was an aftermath of a nightmare, you grasp at the first chance you get and plunge the blades deep into where his heart should have been.

Unsurprisingly, blood spills, and in an instant, he makes a pathetic gasp, followed by a sound of excruciating pain.

“After all,” you push him off of you, your shirt stained with his blood. “What use is a sword that can’t cut through its sacrifice as efficiently as possible?”

#Cherenverse #((So. Slater and Kurosawa friendship as a result of parallels.))#((And the subsequent interactions that result as a form of seeing each other at their worst.))#((Also writing Kurosawa has helped me improve in writing in second person so! Thank you Neela for that!))#((OH AND Kurosawa's dialogue here is also by Neela's! I just repurposed them a little bit.))#((ANYWAY. Narrative foils turned besties who accidentally fall into darkness and show the sides of them they preferred to hide.))

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not-close-to-straight · 1 year

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Bucky is damn right for not coming back home to Tony!😡

And I just don't understand how they are all so quick to forgive him after all that crap he put them through. Ignoring them all for weeks on end! How are they not angry at him for that?!

I am angry at him for that. Right now I can't get over it. He nearly destroyed Clint with his actions but just sitting on Tony's lap is enough?! He's lucky Clint is an Omega and needs his Alpha.

Okay, I'm not sure why I am so emotional about a story that did not happen in real life and can't happen but man, I am angry. I am angry at Tony for shutting them all out, for ignoring them, for not even wanting to see them! I am angry at him for doing that to Bucky and then IGNORING HIM for weeks again! The same with Steve! It's just not right and I am angry at him for it.

All of them should be upset and angry but somehow they aren't and I don't understand?! Maybe I'm just a spiteful bitch but one sorry wouldn't make up for any of it.

And yet I know he went through hell and got hurt so so badly and it warped something in his brain and how he sees himself but just- what he did, how he acted, it's just not right. I'm not talking about the cave, he can blow that whole shit up and I'll cheer him on, but about how he dealt with his family. He calls them family and yet he ignored and hurt them for weeks.

Okay. Deep breathe (it's not real!). But I guess this shows that you write very,very well and certainly give us emotions. 😊

I'm actually a little surprised you're this mad at Tony??

I mean no, Tony doesn't cope well and he's not the strong supportive Alpha that he's always been for the family but what's beautiful about Coming Home is seeing how everyone allows him the time and space and GRACE to shatter to pieces and grieve this horrifying life altering PTSD inducing event and how once he's finally ready to come back, they're waiting to hold him.

That's what family is supposed to do: support us when we fall, pick us back up and if we refuse the help, still be there waiting on the other side when we put ourselves back together.

I mean, Tony wasn't "ignoring" his family out of some pissy tantrum, he was coping with his return from Afghanistan and the arc reactor in his chest and his wings being ruined and not being able to sleep and the aftermath of MONTHS of torture and finding out his parents were murdered by someone he loves-- so he shut down and internalized it all and tried (and failed) to cope that way, but it's not-- personal. How someone grieves after unimaginable tragedy is never about other people. Of course he found it hard to look at Bucky, Bucky is the one who killed his parents. Of course it's tough to see Steve, Steve KNEW about it and never said anything. Bucky is fresh enough out of his own trauma that Tony's initial rejection hit really hard but that's not Tony's fault or Bucky's fault, it just IS.

I think the idea that The Strong One in a relationship/family should always be strong and should always put everyone else first is a deeply flawed sentiment.

Expecting anyone to overcomes months worth of trauma immediately and then being mad because they took a few weeks to cope and couldn't offer more than an "I'm sorry" and a hug when they finally could see their way through the grief fog... like yikes. I've been through some pretty shitty stuff in my life and I'm so glad I had family and friends who were willing to give me the months I needed to grieve and cope rather than being pissed off cos I couldn't handle talking for a few weeks.

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gwydionae · 1 year

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Bound

A/N: Why my brain decided that now is the perfect time to start a chapter fic I do not know. I think the idea appealed to me now of all times because it's an AU where I get to play around with personalities and situations a bit more than with my typical one shot. Everyone's got their flaws and good points, unlike shorter stories where I tend to zero in on one or the other. So let's see how this goes.

Posted on fanfiction.net >here<.

Teaser: Yoshi is forever changed when he loses a son so soon after his wife and daughter. Life in the lair is far from idyllic as a father's desire to shelter his sons causes friction and rebellion. But as they are bound to him, their lost brother remains bound to others, the life he'd lost kept hidden from him. Fate tore them apart, but now it seeks to bring them together once more.

Disclaimer: I do not own Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.

Bound: Prologue

1997 - Hamato Yoshi, age 35

New York City was meant to be a fresh start, a distancing of himself from the past both physically and mentally. But after only a few weeks, Yoshi found the weight of loneliness crushing down upon him in a country that seemed intent on reminding him that he did not belong there. The English lessons of his youth allowed him to communicate with his new neighbors, but his Japanese accent combined with his obvious heritage were often received as invitations to dismiss or even mock the simplest of requests. His landlord spoke quickly with overly flowery language to try and confuse him into paying unnecessary fees, and more than once someone had declared that they didn't speak Chinese before he had even had a chance to open his mouth.

He would have sacrificed anything to have his beloved Tang Shen and Miwa once more at his side.

The memories of the night Oroku Saki murdered his wife and daughter were always there, ready to pounce on him at the slightest provocation—a couple passing him on the street, a baby's cry, even a flickering candle would fill his mind with visions of fire and death. He was unfocused in his attempts at meditation, all efforts to clear his mind in vain. After weeks filled with nights interrupted by graphic nightmares, he knew that something had to change; he could not go on in such a state much longer. A stable mind was necessary to find and keep a job, something he desperately needed before his meager funds ran out. Something had to change.

It was on a whim that he walked into the somewhat dingy pet shop he passed every day during his morning walk. His apartment complex didn't allow cats or dogs, so he drifted toward the tanks full of colorful fish and hermit crabs. Wandering through the mess of tanks, one in particular caught his eye, one that seemed far too cramped for its current occupants.

Four baby turtles smaller than the palm of his hand sat in a rectangular glass tank that looked like it could use some cleaning. Yoshi admittedly knew very little about turtles or how to raise them, but looking at them made him feel as if he had at last stumbled upon kindred spirits, creatures that, like him, were trapped in a place they did not belong. Inquiring about them further, he was informed that they were brothers, all brought in together from the same clutch of eggs. Whether this was true or simply a marketing ploy to convince him to purchase all four of them together was of little consequence. Family by birth or by circumstance, he found himself unable to separate the small creatures from each other, purchasing the turtles, a dish to carry them home in, and a large tank with the necessary equipment and food to be delivered to his apartment that afternoon.

The toll on his wallet had been higher than he would have liked, but as he walked back out on to the street, he found the faintest of smiles gracing his face for the first time since the night of the fire. Having someone else to care for filled him with fresh determination, reigniting his appreciation for the beauty and wonder of life.

"It is my honor to be taking care of you from now on, my turtles. I shall work hard to repay this small joy that you have already given back to me tenfold."

But fate, which had already taken so much, it seemed was not through with him just yet.

The inherent wrongness he had felt from the strange man that bumped into him on his way to his apartment compelled him to follow until he took an abrupt turn down a narrow alley. As he hung back, listening to the man converse with another that could have been his identical twin, even a foreigner such as himself could tell that the cadence of their English was cold and stilted. The thick, glowing substance in the canister being handed from one to the other was cause for far greater concern, however, Yoshi having never in his life seen anything like it.

Strange men making back alley deals with unearthly chemicals at least warranted a tip off to the police, but as he kept his eyes and ears focused on the exchange, his feet disturbed a scrawny rat who bit at his ankle in surprise before racing down the alley. Between the rat's squeaks of displeasure and his own stifled cry, his eavesdropping had been uncovered. Soon he not only faced the disturbingly impassive gazes of the two men he had been spying on but two more who approached from behind, all sharing the same face. An easy escape cut off, he was left with no choice.

As his leg kicked out, his arms covered the bowl he carried protectively. It was clear these men meant to silence him, and as he fought for his freedom, he could not help the whispers in his mind shaming him for always putting those he was supposed to care for at risk. He had given in to his anger toward Saki then and his curiosity toward the strange man now. And as the canister fell from his aggressor's hands, shattering on the concrete and splattering its contents along not only the walls and street but also Yoshi himself, his cries of pain and anguish came less from the cracking and rearranging of his bones and more from the despair of the smashed bowl that had slipped his grasp.

The agony of the unnatural transformation coursing through his body momentarily distracted him. But as his form settled into its new shape, the pain ceased, leaving behind a disfigured humanoid body covered in fur, a long tail curling between his legs, and large, round ears picking up so many unique and chaotic sounds that he felt his head begin to pound from all the noise. One in particular stood out, however.

It was a cry, much like a baby's wail for their mother when they wake up at night to find themselves alone.

Prying open his strange, new eyes, Yoshi saw one of the men grasping a small, green creature by the leg, dangling it upside-down as its cries echoed through the alley. Three more just like it crawled on the ground, each covered in glowing green ooze, a turtle's shell on their backs. His eyes widened in terror.

"No!"

He was on his feet in an instant, gathering up the three turtle creatures as best he could as the man made to grab for another. Yoshi tried to fight, tried to wrench the still wailing infant from the stranger's grasp, but he was clumsy, his unfamiliar body unable to move as precisely as his former human frame, and in the end he could merely watch in horror as the man he had followed to the alley cut his losses and ran, one of the four still squirming in his arms.

Yoshi tried to give chase, but his hideous, rat-like form caused panic when spotted, and he quickly lost sight of the kidnapper. He searched for hours, cradling the three that remained of his adopted turtles to his furry chest as he ran through the alleyways and hid amongst trash, but long before his breath grew ragged, he knew it was hopeless. Fate had taken another from him.

Sneaking into his apartment through his window, he collapsed to the floor, tears streaming down his whiskered face as sobs wracked his mutated body. He would have to find somewhere else to live, somewhere safe for those that most would see as monsters. But as he felt tiny, three-fingered hands reach out to him, he opened his eyes and looked at his turtles—his sons.

"I am sorry. I meant to care for you, to keep you safe, but one brother is already lost, and it is all my fault." He gazed at them sadly, reaching out to pat their heads with his paw-like hands as they stared up at him curiously. "Our family has already been splintered, but I swear to you all that I will do whatever I can to keep the four of us together. We will live on, and your brother will not be forgotten."

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A/N: This story has been fully outlined for years. Wish me luck!

As always, critics and grammar police appreciated!

Chapter 1 on tumblr >here<

#tmnt 2012 #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt #hamato yoshi #splinter #master splinter #raphael #donatello #leonardo #michelangelo #april o'neil #kraang #turtle tots #ok so april isn't in this one but she will be soon i promise #my fanfiction #honestly just wanted to really mess with canon for a change #i am going to be doing my fav version of splinter a little dirty to start but he's a broken man trying to be a single dad with lots of ptsd #he's trying his best

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ihatelettuce · 8 months

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This app has done me so wonderfully while I’ve had it

In ways that I can’t even begin to talk about this app and reading fanfiction in general has saved my life

It singlehandedly resparked my imagination and creativity

Gave me a safe place to explore ideas, thoughts and concepts that I couldn’t get out of my head

It’s allowed me to decipher feelings that I’ve had hidden deep inside

Formulate them into something comprehensible

I don’t have any desire to read fanfiction any longer

While I always have and always will love reading, I finally want to be present

For the first time in my entire life, I finally want to be present

My love for attack on titan will never ever die. I may not be a diehard fan who’s entire life revolves around the show anymore, but I will never stop loving or rewatching my show.

I have been battered, assaulted, neglected and hurt throughout the entirety of my life, and in the absence of any form of socialization, friendship or real love, attack on titan and it’s characters filled in the void that nothing else would.

With the endless philosophies and theories that are insinuated and portrayed within the show, I have learned so incredibly much about life and the way I viewed myself and the world around me.

Eren taught me to embrace myself and hold myself to a higher light, simply because I exist. He taught me to never look back. To STOP looking back. That your personal freedom was the ONLY thing to strive for, your only goal. Nothing else was, is, or will be more important. Move forward. Move forward and keep going, even when it hurts, you TAKE your freedom.

Mikasa taught me a devotion to hold for the ones you love like nobody else ever could.

“I don't like the terms "good person" or "bad person" because it is impossible to be entirely good to everyone. To some, you are a good person, while to others, you are a bad person.”

That statement from Armin alone changed my entire perspective on life and what it means to truly be myself. As a character who was already relatable to my timid, fragile younger self, he opened my eyes up and taught me to accept that I couldn’t be perfect and that I was worth every ounce of love I deserve even if I’ve been “bad”. That my worth doesnt come solely for my actions and how proper I am. That even though I hold it together, I am still a wreck inside and it causes me to unintentionally hurt.

Armin made me conscious. He made me aware of the much bigger picture behind what it means to “be”.

Watching Jean grow into a man as he was intended gave me hope for the world. Albeit slight, he brought me hope. Hope that more people would follow their own steps into blossoming into the man (or woman) that they felt as though they were meant to be. He embraced his flaws and discovered ways to turn them into his advantages.

Also he was such a classical hopeless romantic, I loved him so much. He’d paint portraits of beautiful women he’d love to spoil and properly love. He spoke so softly and gently about women, offered his entirety to the one that would allow him, kept himself clean and graceful for himself and for them.

He taught me much about what qualities I wanted in a man. Someone full of pure genuine love and no hidden intents or malice. A man who’d see my beauty and want to praise it, not take. A man who’d be so enamored with me that he wouldn’t be able to keep himself away. Not in the way that I’d been used to.

Connie and Sasha. The bond that they shared. The laughter they kept up. The unbroken cheeriness in the face of constant adversity. That joy was everything I’ve ever wanted to have, and if they had it whilst going against a 60 meter monster hell bent on destroying them and their home, who’s to say I can’t do it despite having been torn to shreds from the inside out.

Levi. Oh Levi.

He warmed me the way a dad would. Strict, stern, unwavering and emotionless, not unlike my own, yet opposite to him in every other way. No matter how tall he felt as though he needed to stand to be taken seriously with such reverence, he showed such genuine care to his team. To Erwin, to Hange, to his partners and collaborators.

There was no longer an excuse. Stoicism is not an excuse for poor judgment and uncalled for meanness. He broke the excuse.

Behind that mask lay a beautiful man, mature and clear. Entirely fulfilling to those he loves and so tender with his touch.

I could envision him loving me. I could feel him laying me down gently, not for any sex. To massage me. To graze his fingers through my skin. To comb and brush my hair and give me little braids or styles. To put a light layer of makeup on me, only to enhance my features rather than slathering a full face on for a false sense of security. He’d be so attentive to me. Studying me to see where he could comfort and console me, and taking initiative to actually do so. He’d prepare me for any sexual encounter. He’d take his time. He’d let me take my time. He’d ask me questions and seek constant reassurance from me. He’d keep me safe. Remind me that I’m safe. Ensure that I knew that I was always ok under his grasp. And he would do this purely out of his heart. Solely because I’m the only person he had ever found any solace in. Because I allowed him the safety of letting that side of him out. As he did for me.

What Jean did to me emotionally, Levi did to me physically. He taught me how I wanted to be touched. Finally, something had taught me.

Grisha Jaeger. A terrible father to one son, and a spectacle of a father for his next.

I was the Zeke to my own father, and my siblings were four Eren’s I had to swallow down and forcibly watch receive the love I so desperately wanted.

The memories viewed within the Paths, the realizations Zeke had to undergo, all of it was just so close to home.

Understanding that your parents are just two other hurt people in this life who were failed and forced to conform to parenthood and life is one thing. I swallowed that pill long ago, logic has always been something easy for me to grasp onto.

But actually feeling it. Understanding it in your heart, not just your mind. That was something only the Jaeger family managed to do. How deeply rooted that pain from your childhood self truly is. How far it affects the rest of your life. The views you hold of the world. Of authority. Of people. I refused to see all of it until I was inadvertently forced to. Through their lens.

Grisha was a victim of his own child/livelihood. Another product of his environment and the authority that was held over him.

Nothing would ever be able to excuse his treatment of Zeke, especially when compared to how well he was able to parent Eren, but to see his actions having changed as a direct result of his previous failures, to see him realize how terrible of a husband and father he truly was, to see him accept this fact and repent. Repent endlessly for years for the family the lost, to see him actually grieve and mourn their absence and desperately wish that he could change it, ensuring that his current actions reflected what he desperately wanted to change it to

I just wanted my father to do the same.

Maybe the cycle was broken a little too late, but he broke it. He changed himself.

And in the end it made all the difference.

I don’t yet know what life has in store for me and my own dad, but if there’s a chance that I can one day receive a hug that heartfelt by my father. If there’s a chance that I can one day hear how sorry he felt for his own transgressions against me. If I can one day be told how much he loves me and genuinely feel it, I will live. Because the hurt that we’ve experienced from our familial loved ones is unjustifiable, but if the reasonings understood to have caused that behavior are, there is always something worth hoping in. Those wounds are in fact healable, and through the work, you’ll find such solace in the newfound relationship that is born.

Zeke Jaeger

Zeke

I can’t tell you how much I love you. Not in a romantic way, I don’t think it ever truly was. You are me.

You’re all of my childhood expectations. My childhood hopes and dreams. My childhood actions and repercussions.

You are all of my repressed teenage anger and angst. All of my isolated youth despite showing no open signs of it.

You are my discarded feelings. My denial. My refusal to truly understand my father, my refusal to understand and accept how it all has affected my personality and behavior towards others.

You are secretive, as I once was. You hide your insecurities and shame through a veil of a falsely mysterious and serious facade, as I once did.

You are cautious and weary. Expertly mastered how to conceal your true self, true feelings, and true intentions. Expertly mastered exactly how to speak and act to get people to like you. To respect you. Expertly mastered how to curate an existence that was entirely separate to your own, sharing your body with another entity. All as I once did.

You let yourself slip into darkness and unintentionally allowed your demons to turn your passion into hatred, hatred that scarred other people as a casualty. As happened to me.

At such a young age your experiences shaped you into a “mature” soul. Capable of everything your superiors are, capable of taking and withholding pain and pressure without a sound. As happened to me.

The constant weight of stress and pressure turned you nihilistic. As it did to me.

And despite the hurt and constant pressure, you worked so hard. You studied hard and trained diligently every single day. Preparing yourself for the life that had already been planned out for you, even if it wasn’t exactly what you wanted. You arrived to achieve these dreams and make the best of it, even if none of it was yours. As I once did.

And in the end, right before the finish line, everything was crushed. Your plan was destroyed by forces beyond your control. Your life turned into complete disarray and turmoil, all by forces beyond your control. As it happened to me.

You lost yourself completely. As I once did.

Behind all of this, behind all of the appearances and secrets, there was always the true you.

The you that was goofy and actually quite aloof. The you that was snarky and sarcastic, witty with your smarts rather than using it for pretension. The you that was as sensitive as you were afraid to accept. The one that loved so deeply and so desperately missed the childlike wonder in our eyes that was stolen from us. And that childlike wonder too, still remained. The you that yearned to find and see the good and beauty in life. The one that longed to experience it, unlike the front you adorned that was deeply afraid to.

As everything broke apart, you were forced to look at the shattered fragments and thoroughly examine them. This was your puzzle to solve, and with every piece that you picked up came new revelations. Things throughout your life that explained current behaviors and feelings. Things that you noticed you completely missed out on due to that pessimism. Colors and vibrancies that stood so tall before you that you were forced to see were left unnoticed by you, again due to that pessimism. All of those mistakes, those failures, those errors in trial, the true pain of life. All that you buried in the name of “self sufficiency”, only to be thrown directly into your face so that you could no longer ignore and deny it.

To sit with the ultimate loss. To sit with every single thing in your life taken and stripped away from you. To accept this loss and finally admit that you fumbled. That you’re gravely hurt. That you’re insufferably alone. That you are in fact real, alive, and just afraid to truly live.

All of that pain we avoided, only to see that when it’s finally brought to the light we can learn so much about ourselves. Our past selves and our present.

And once this release is formed, we’re reborn.

We look up to the sky and see the sky as we do everyday, except this time,

It’s seen.

You see the sun for the first time since you were five. You see its brightness that hurts your eyes when you gleam. You see it’s color soaring through the sky, painting the clouds as it rises and departs.

You see how beautifully the trees sway against the business of the human world. How delicately the ocean waves in accordance to the tune of the moon.

How the moon itself is a goddess. The most beautiful natural phenomena of our world. How she never ignores you. Never defies you. She looks at you directly into your eyes with her own, and they’re so tender.

You notice how the way you love animals is the way you should love yourself. The way you should love those closest to you if you can.

You realize just how connected everything is. How harmonious the vast number of cycles of life present actually are. How nothing matters and everything matters at the same time. How the world is incomprehensible large yet minuscule all at once. How you are the only certainty that exists.

We can learn the roots of all of our problems and stumble to find the solutions. We can take it day by day and learn how to change.

And as the days go by, learning turns into understanding. Stumbling turns into running. Taking it day by day turns into enjoying things day by day.

We relearn ourselves. Relearn our concept of existence. And only one thing remains constant.

And that one thing is love.

I have covered the trueness of what you give me with a false recognition of my love for you as lust. A product of what has been done to me over and over again. From childhood up until now.

I have spent years picturing us fucking from night to dawn. Picturing a healthy relationship built off of sex, one that was unfair of me to do to you.

I spent so much time meaninglessly finding solace in your body, escaping my misery through your hands and your privates. I spent so much time wondering why it was nothing more than a temporary reprieve.

It took me far too long to realize that it didn’t feel like true relief, because it wasn’t.

I had been doing to you what every man in my life up until this point has done to me. I had been repeating the cycle. Continuing the abuse of person through the use and “appreciation” of their vessel.

You are me. I am you.

When my brother put his hands to me, I lost every ounce of faith I had in a man.

And without realizing what I had been doing to you was a form of abuse in its own right, I had been punished in real life for it.

That slap in the face woke me up.

I stopped desiring sex as a whole.

I could no longer stand to picture sex, even if it was with you.

I couldn’t stand to picture what you looked like unclothed anymore.

I couldn’t stand to imagine a rowdy night with you. An unspecified scenario that led to the “greatest fuck” our lives. I couldn’t stand picturing an empty relationship that resembled nothing of either of us just because I wanted one without truly realizing what one consisted of in the first place any longer.

My hatred for men fully rising to the surface allowed me to truly exercise it from inside of me.

I no longer felt the need to scratch and pick at my skin in hopes that all that was contained within it could finally spill out.

I was still lonely. Desperately desiring the touch of another person.

But it wasn’t sex.

It finally wasn’t sex.

Sex never did anything good for me, and it absolutely was not going to cure me.

I love you so much I couldn’t stop picturing you altogether. Besides my family you were all I had. You were my best friend. You were my lover. You were my mentor. You were all I had left to hang onto.

I started imagining the real you. Imagining how you would truly see me. The real me. Not the fabricated character I would invent to try to appease you. You treated her humanely. You were playful and at times a little assholey, but you treated her like a true person. You spoke to her clearly and engaged her oddness. You were mesmerized by her vessel but that wasn’t what drove you to her. By any means. You enjoyed her presence alone. The love that vibrated through her. You enjoyed her conversation, her depth, her love, everything that she radiated and put out into the world and into you.

You made the realize that this was what I craved my entire life all along.

It wasn’t a boyfriend, it wasn’t to experience “good” sex, it wasn’t to become a different person in the name of not being “better” than me.

It was to finally be seen, no matter how uncomfortable that vulnerability felt, and to be loved unconditionally throughout all that was seen.

You were my practice. My simulation. The only person and thing that allowed me to truly lay myself completely out in the open for.

You were always me all along. And once I realized I couldn’t treat you that way anymore, I realized that I had to do the same for myself.

If I couldn’t be loved the way you would love me, or the way Jean or Levi would the way it was presented in my head, I would no longer settle.

There is no acceptance for anything less.

I have so incredibly much left to learn and heal and level up from. So much more to look forward to and experience in this life that has been so limited.

With 100% certainty, for the first time in my entire life,

I really am ready.

Thank you Hajime Isayama for creating a show that is so vibrant and so deeply woven in storyline. I loved it from a pure watching experience alone, but as a DELULU ass bitch who was genuinely stripped down to nothing, this story was a manual that I followed.

I couldn’t have asked for a better one.

Thank you for all of the tears, joyful and otherwise. Thank you for all of the lessons learned. For all of the concepts explored. For all of the feelings you have helped me release. Thank you for the dreams and the visuals. Thank you for readying me for the world in ways that everything else failed to do.

I don’t yet know if I will delete this app or not

I have zero desire to read fanfiction again, and truthfully I want it to permanently stay that way.

Regardless, some of my best memories have been made here and I appreciate those memories with all of my heart. Tumblr has been nothing but good to me, and to any of you who for whatever reason are still here on my shitty small ass account, I hope that it helps you too.

Stay safe and heal those wounds, please don’t lose yourself in the mess of the real world and the false safety of the false world

You are all very very loved and are capable of being free, only if you believe so (even if you have to force it for years on end, fake it till you make it)

I’ll probably never open this app again even if I do keep it installed, but either way if anyone sees this, I still love you fr

I’m still goofy and out of pocket and full of love and sexy and amazing y’all 😋 I’m just more serious now, and that’s so much more than ok

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ibuki-loves-you · 3 years

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Killed for a Hopeful Future (Nagito Komaeda x Reader)

Warnings: Angst, mentions of suicide, domestic stuff, detailed descriptions of murder, mentions of v/mit, potential spoilers???

Mod Ibuki: Another piece me and @call-me-ko worked on together! Execution based off this fan-made one! I hope you enjoy!

Sobs were all that could be heard throughout the small cottage.

Heavy, distraught sobs.

Nagito sat in his bed, the bed Y/N often accompanied him in. Heavy sobs racked his body. He doesn't think he's cried this hard in his entire life.

His love, his world, was gone.

It was like they were taken right out from under him.

One gunshot wound to the chest and bruises around their neck. Their leg looked broken, probably from the fall.

Y/N's body was hung from the door of strawberry house and dropped all the way to grape house's floor. Blood was everywhere due to the gunshot wound.

When Nagito saw, he thought he was going to die himself. No one told him that they were the victim. They just said they didn't know who it was yet.

He didn't get to say goodbye

He didn't get to tell them that he loved them.

He didn't-

"Nagito!" Fuyuhiko yelled. Nagito swung his head around, glaring at him.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Nagito stated. Fuyuhiko stayed quiet. "Simple question. Is it really that hard to answer?" He snapped. Fuyuhiko didn't say anything. Kazuichi shakily sighed. "W-We didn't want to make you panic."

Nagito scoffed. "A little late for that, isn't it?"

Nagito investigated your body himself. He didn't trust anyone. You were loved by everyone here, and yet you still died. It didn't add up.

Bing Bong Bing Bong

"Nagito... it's time for the trial." Hajime mumbled apologetically. Nagito nodded slowly.

"Give me a minute..." He responded. "Of course." Hajime said softly, moving to the elevator.

Nagito dropped to his knees in front of them. Tears started streaming down his face.

"Who did this? Angel...who did this to you?" He mumbled, stroking Y/N's head. "I promise...your killer will get what they deserve." Nagito placed a kiss on their forehead.

He began making his way towards the elevator.

Justice would be served

"The murder occurred at around 5:30 am." Hajime started.

"The murder weapon was a noose found at the scene, but they also had a wound in their chest. I think a gunshot. That could be the cause of death as well." Chiaki added.

"It was the cause of death." Nagito interrupted. "How else could they have fallen?"

"Fallen...?" Chiaki asked. Nagito scoffed.

"I'm not looking to play games this trial. I want to know the blackened as soon as I possibly can so let me tell you this so you can put everything together." Nagito said angrily.

"Strawberry house and grape house are connected. It's an elevator. Y/N died beforehand via gunshot. That means the killer went to the Final Dead Room. I would know because I went there. The elevator won't move if a living thing is detected. It moved because they were dead already. The killer tied a noose around their neck and tied the other end to the doorknob. Then, they activated the elevator. Eventually, Y/N would fall because that's how gravity works. Now, figure out who killed them." Nagito snapped. He explained the murder in perfect detail, no flaw.

With Nagito's explanation, soon enough they found the killer.

"Gundham...why did you do it?" Hajime asked, a solemn expression painted onto his features.

Gundham stood silent. After a moment, he took a breath.

"We had a plan." He muttered. "Please explain." Hajime requested, taking a few glances at a fuming Nagito.

"Y/N and I agreed that we would allow all of you to escape at the expense of our lives. I completed the Final Dead Room, and we planned the murder from there." Gundham started.

"We wanted you to survive. Y/N didn't go down without a fight, nor did I. I request you remember that." Gundham looked towards Nagito. He dug through his pocket and pulled out a key. He walked over to Nagito and held it out.

"It is the key to their cottage. I didn't know if you had one or not, either or I assumed they'd want you to have it." Nagito took the key silently.

"I don't expect forgiveness, nor do I want it. But one thing I want you all to carry from mine and Y/N's demise is that you must always fight. Do not go down without one."

With that, Gundham was dragged to his execution.

And that's how he ended up in his room clutching a piece of your clothing while he bawled his eyes out.

Bing Bong Bing Bong

"Please make your way to Jabberwock Park! Not attending will result in immediate death! See you soon! Puhuhuhuhu~"

Nagito looked at the monitor. Should he even attend? He didn't care whether he died or not.

After contemplation he decided to go. He dried his eyes and placed your belonging neatly on his bed. Nagito made his way out the door and to Jabberwock Park.

Upon arrival, everyone gave him pitied stares. He looked horrible, worse than he usually did, and he knew that.

"Are you alright?" Chiaki spoke. Nagito looked at her and stuffed his hands into his pockets.

"No, not really. But you shouldn't worry! I'll be fine." That was a lie, even he didn't believe it.

"Allow me to introduce the new motive. Future visions!" Monokuma announced. Everyone rolled their eyes.

"We aren't gonna do that shit!" Fuyuhiko screamed. "Yeah, like we'd believe it!" Nekomaru hollered after. Nagito stayed silent.

Future visions? He didn't believe in any of that, but it's worth a look, right?

When everyone left Jabberwock Park, mainly out of anger towards Monokuma, Nagito looked at the vision motive.

A character select button appeared on a screen that seemingly came out of nowhere. He selected himself. A video began to load.

"Alright, let's go see baba." Nagito cooed. He took his daughter's hands and gently pulled her to her feet. The baby giggled in response.

"Ready? One step at a time." Nagito looked up at Y/N. They sat on the other side of the living room, smiling at the two. Nagito gave them a bright smile. With small steps of his own, he guided their daughter in Y/N's direction.

Their child shook their hands from Nagito's. Nagito let go and smiled, keeping close behind her.

Y/N opened their arms and their daughter stumbled into them. Nagito hurried over with a wide smile.

"You did it, baby! I'm so proud of you!" Nagito cheered. His daughter crawled out of Y/N's arms and into his. She rested her head on his shoulder and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"And you say she isn't a daddy's girl." Y/N teased. Nagito smiled and kissed his daughter's cheek over and over, earning a giggle in response.

"Yeah, I guess I see where you're coming from." Nagito leaned forward and gave you a kiss.

"I love you, angel." "I love you too, Nagi."

Nagito stared at the screen with a mix of horror and awe. He moved his hands towards his pale face and rubbed his temples. He took his hand and selected Y/N’s character.

“Daddy! Higher!” His daughter giggled, gripping the chains of the swing. Nagito chuckled

“A little higher, okay?” Nagito compromised. She giggled and nodded. “Okay daddy!”

Y/N smiled from next to Nagito, watching as he booped her nose every time the swing came towards him.

“Baba! Look how high I’m going!” Their daughter called. Y/N giggled and nodded.

“I see! You’re almost as tall as me and daddy from up there!” Y/N said, a smile gracing their features. Nagito nodded in agreement, a huge smile on his face. He turned his head to face his lover.

“Look how happy she is.” He mumbled, chuckling everytime she giggled.

“Daddy keep pushing me!” She said when he stopped for a moment. Nagito laughed and continued pushing the swing.

“She really is such a happy kid.” Y/N smiled throughout their sentence. Nagito wrapped one arm around Y/N’s waist and used the other to push the swing.

That was his future? Or would’ve been?

Nagito put his forehead against the screen and started crying again.

He couldn’t help but feel selfish because he wanted that more than anything.

Soon enough his tears turned to crazed wheezes, laughter shaking his body.

Hope and despair mixed in his eyes once again. He had nothing to lose…

So why not get himself killed? Or better yet get them killed. It's all their fault after all, Y/N did nothing to them yet they had to die.

Bing Bong Bing Bong

“A body has been discovered! Please make your way to the warehouse on the fifth island!”

Everyone dropped what they were doing and made their way to the warehouse next to the factory while Nagito took his time. Everything went according to plan. Now all he had to do was wait. Whether he survived the trial or not didn’t matter much to him, since one way or another he would die.

Suicide or execution was the question now.

“The victim is Nekomaru Nidai, the Ultimate Team Manager. The murder weapon is unknown, but definitely a tool of some sorts as he was taken apart.” Hajime started.

“Trip wire was found at the scene.” Kazuichi added. “So we can assume that was definitely used, especially since he has scratched on his ankles. Well, as scratched as metal can be.”

“Killer probably pressed the power button after using the trip wire, right?” Fuyuhiko questioned. Hajime nodded. “Most likely.”

Sonia put a finger to her chin. “So what you are saying is the killer used tripwire, and then powered Nekomaru off?” Hajime nodded again.

“Who would want to kill Nekomaru? He was so kind to us all.” Akane muttered. “I can’t answer that, I wish I could. But for now all we can do is find his killer.” And with that the trial was officially underway.

“So this is how it happened.” Hajime started. “Nekomaru was lured to the factory’s warehouse by an anonymous letter. He assumed whoever it was he would be able to handle, so he expected a fight. What he didn’t expect was tripwire a few feet away from the door. With his height, I wouldn’t expect him to see it either. Nor would I expect it myself. After Nekomaru fell into the tripwire, his head slammed into the floor, causing him to be weakened for a moment. It may not have been a long moment, but it was enough for the killer to rush into action and press his power button on the back of his neck. When the power button was pressed and Nekomaru was officially powered off, the killer took him apart using a variety of tools found at the market. This explains the mess of oil we found. The killer scattered his parts all around the warehouse and factory, thus leading to us having to find the parts and put them together for investigation.”

Hajime turned to the podium across from his.

“Isn’t that right, Nagito Komaeda? The Ultimate Lucky Student…”

Nagito smiled that crazed grin of his. His eyes were swirling with hope and despair once again.

“Yep! You are absolutely right!” He laughed. Hajime winced while Akane banged on her podium in sheer anger.

“Why, Nagito?” Hajime asked. Nagito continued to laugh. “Isn’t it obvious? I wanted to die!” He said as if it was nothing. Akane growled. “So why didn’t you kill yourself!?” Nagito’s laughs died down, his emotions doing a complete 180.

“Because I wanted to kill you all as well.” He said simply. Everyone looked as if they’d seen a ghost.

“W-What?” Hajime whispered. “Did I stutter? You guys were the reason Y/N died! Y-You took them away from me!” Nagito screamed. He dropped to his knees behind his podium, sobs beginning to consume him once again.

“I-I could’ve had a life with them...We w-would’ve been happy a-and I w-would’ve had a d-daughter.” Nagito mumbled weakly. “I just want Y/N...I-I want to see Y/N. P-Please just kill me already.” He pleaded.

Everyone looked at him with a mixture of sadness, pity, and fear.

“Who am I to disobey?” Monokuma said. “W-Wait, we need to talk more! We have more questions, bastard!” Fuyuhiko cursed. Monokuma ignored him. Nagito continued sobbing and clutching his podium.

“Let’s give it everything we’ve got! It’s punishment time!”

Nagito was set up straight, strapped to a wheel similar to one you’d see on a gameshow. Every section other than him was either Monomi or Monokuma.

Monokuma spun the wheel, causing him to start spinning with it.

It landed on Monomi.

Monokuma spun the wheel again. A wave of nausea hitting Nagito like a truck as his head began pounding.

It landed on Monokuma.

The wheel was spun once again. Nagito laid cursing his luck as he began throwing up in his mouth from the constant motion sickness.

The torture continued for nearly 15 minutes. A vicious cycle of spinning and choking on his own vomit.

Monokuma spun one last time, the wheel finally landing on Nagito. He smiled, elated that the torture was finally over.

Before he could blink, copious amounts of spears fired towards him. Out of many, only three struck him.

Two in each of his legs, and one in his chest.

As he slowly bled to death, all he could think about was one thing.

He was going to see them again.

#danganronpa #danganronpa x reader #sdr2 #nagito komaeda x reader #nagito komaeda #mod ibuki writes!

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stevesbestgirl · 3 years

Text

So, I reblogged a post about hoping that Sebastian Stan makes efforts to educate and improve himself and lost like twelve followers, so I thought it would be better to address this in my own words.

I don’t have a ton of knowledge about what’s going on, but first and foremost, I’m here for Bucky. Being demi means that I crush mostly on fictional characters anyway. Seb lends a lovely face to characters I like, so I like his appearance, but I don’t know him.

I’m not going to say that I think Sebastian Stan is an awful person, because I don’t think that. I don’t tolerate racism and I sincerely hope that he learns from this and I hope he speaks up because I’d like to hear what he has to say. I would like to see growth because I think everyone deserves the chance to improve themselves. No one else is obligated to show him the same grace- if you’re hurt by his words, your feelings are valid and you don’t owe him anything.

I’m not going to condemn anyone for their feelings on this. Everyone is allowed to react their own way. We idolize these people, but they aren’t perfect- we can hold them accountable for their flaws just like we would anyone else. But I will block if I see bullying, point blank. I made this tumblr to celebrate the things I love and I plan to keep it that way.

#andrea rambles #sebastian stan #i hate that i even have to make this post #but here we are #unfollow if you feel the need to #andie rambles

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jamespotterthefirst · 3 years

Text

As Long as You Love Me So

aka the fake Christmas date (Ethan x f!MC)

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Lilac Allende) Word count: 2.9K Warning: some language

Premise: She is in desperate need of a date for her cousin’s pretentious dinner.

Author’s Note: Back at it again at Krispy Kreme with the fake dating trope. This takes place during the holidays in book 1. Thank you to @aestheticartsx for pre-reading this 💖

Can you pretend to be my date tonight?

The biting Boston breeze cut into her exposed skin with an unforgiving bite, leaving her fingers numb as she sent the text. All around her, chatting and laughing couples milled about, basking in the golden lights of the city's Christmastime decorations. Those who weren't affectionately enraptured in each other or studiously deciding which of the many restaurants to pick from threw curious glances her way.

Please? It's a long story but I can tell you when you get here. I'll pay you.

Vaguely, she regretted the pale pink cocktail dress that left her shoulders, legs, and much of her chest exposed. An hour ago, it had seemed like the perfect dress to force her pretentious cousin, Griselda, into quiet envy. And while her plan had been successful for the better part of five minutes, Lilac's arrival at the restaurant without a date had been enough for her cousin to revert back to her sneering, condescending, look-at-my-successful-broker-boyfriend ways.

I'm offended, Lil. I'd do that shit for free.

Bryce's text brought Lilac back to her current desperate situation. With unfeeling, shivering fingers she texted back.

You don't need to know why? You'll do it?

Bryce's reply came in instantly which Lilac was grateful for. The sudden breeze that rustled through her hair and bare skin made her shiver uncontrollably.

No need to know why. I'd do anything for you.

Her triumphant smile lasted only second as her phone announced a second text from Bryce.

But I can't tonight. I'm assisting Dr. Tanaka and he'll murder me if I back out now. I'm so sorry, Lil.

Lilac exhaled sharply, her breath swirling into the night like fog. This was what she got for letting her anger get the best of her. Wincing, she recalled the lie that had hurled from her lips with vehement, unstoppable force.

“Not that it's any of your business but I'm dating a successful doctor from work.”

Griselda's brief shock had been vindication enough but when it slowly ebbed into a wicked, challenging sneer, Lilac felt utterly pathetic.

“Fuck her,” Lilac muttered with a sudden rush of righteous anger.

So help her God, she was going to march back into the restaurant and promptly inform her stupid cousin that her dating life was none of her business. So what if Lilac couldn't make a relationship last longer than a few months or if she dated around too much? She would be damned if she allowed her pompous, gold digging cousin to slut shame her.

“Please tell me you're not a smoker, Rookie.”

The familiar baritone sent a white hot thrill through her body before her brain registered who it belonged to.

Handsome as ever, Doctor Ethan Ramsey stood before her, eyeing her quizzically. He looked magnificently elegant in a dark suit, topped with a dark blue coat and scarf. The twinkling Christmas lights of the street sent his striking features into sharp relief, making him appear even more attractive than should be allowed.

He waited for her reply and Lilac jolted with a start. Nearby, a small group smoked as they talked and laughed.

“No smoking for me.” She grimaced and added as an afterthought, “Though if I were a smoker, I'd need a full pack right about now.”

“Rough night?”

“You've no idea.”

“Is that why you're standing out here in the freezing cold with no coat wearing…”

He trailed off, piercing blue eyes sweeping over her attire. Lilac held her breath, the heat of his gaze feeling like a gentle caress of his fingers on her skin.

“...That?”

His gaze reunited with hers and they looked at one another in the noisy street, a charged silence stretching between them.

Then, too suddenly, Ethan looked away, busying himself with removing his coat and draping it over Lilac's shoulders without much ceremony. The pleasant waft of his cologne comforted her almost as much as the welcomed warmth of his coat.

“I never took you for the type to like any of these trendy restaurants,” she commented when there was nothing else to say. “Especially during the holidays, with so many people everywhere.”

Ethan grimaced slightly. “I had to join Banner Health for dinner. It seems cozying up to them at the baseball game a few months ago was not enough to get a good deal for our patients.”

Lilac pulled his coat closer around herself but said nothing.

“What about you? Why are you so determined to die of hypothermia?” His eyes briefly swiveled to her dress again. “Is your date going that terribly?”

Ethan added the last part casually enough but Lilac sensed that he was extremely interested in the answer.

“I would take a horrible date over what's going on in there.” She gestured toward the window of the restaurant with a nod. At Ethan's evident confusion, she added, “Family dinner.”

“Aren't you close with your family?”

“My mother, father, and siblings? Yes. My cousin?” Lilac allowed a look of disgust to be her answer.

The crowd of people that moved around them on the sidewalk forced them closer together. Lilac's stomach fluttered but Ethan looked unfazed, peering down at her expectantly, waiting for her to go on.

“It's my cousin Griselda's annual Christmas dinner at this ostentatious restaurant. Mostly because she can't cook for shit.” She explained this with a sarcastic flair. “But we're all supposed to forget about that when she shoves expensive meals under our noses.”

To her surprise, Ethan chuckled. “Sounds like fresh hell. Why even attend?”

“Because it would be unspeakably rude not to show up? The family drama this would cause would be ten times worse.” Lilac glanced through the window of the dark restaurant, all tables lit by candle light. “So instead, us poor bastards who live in the East Coast are forced to hear all about how successful and beautiful she is.”

In moving her hands and arms when shit-talking her cousin, Ethan's coat began to slip off one of her shoulders.

“You're a doctor, Rookie. And a damn good one at that.”

Ethan's eyes fell to the curve of her exposed shoulder then back to her eyes. His gaze held such intensity that she was momentarily struck motionless. Very gently, gentler than she had ever seen him before, he reached over to adjust his coat around her, the sweep of his fingers against her skin leaving a trail of heat.

“And not to mention you're also quite beau—”

“So you made it after all.”

Griselda looked directly at Ethan as she emerged from the restaurant. There was no greeting, only bitter disappointment in her voice. Her cousin's dark, judgmental eyes swept the handsome doctor from head to toe, as though trying to find a flaw but finding none to her dismay.

“We all thought Lilita here was bluffing.”

Ethan stared at Griselda with brief surprise at being addressed so bluntly. His questioning gaze briefly moved to Lilac who grit her teeth in embarrassment, wishing for the ground to swallow her whole.

The longest silence in Lilac's existence passed before he spoke again.

“I arrived as fast as I could on such short notice.”

Lilac's head snapped to look at him, only belatedly remembering to hide her surprise.

“It's unspeakably rude to invite someone impromptu,” Ethan continued, matching Griselda's cool, haughty demeanor.

Lilac could have kissed him with gratitude.

“Yes, well.” For the first time in her life, Griselda Castillo had no retort.

It was all too perfect. All Lilac had to do now was make up an excuse for Ethan to go and no one would be the wiser about her stupid lie. Not even Ethan himself. It was all going to work out—

“Forgive me, we were not aware Lilac was seeing someone. Easy mistake to make.” Griselda threw a faux saccharine smile Lilac's way. “When we heard about the famous boyfriend, however, we just had to meet you.”

Fuck you, Griselda.

Lilac couldn't decide if she wanted to push her cousin onto moving traffic or if she wished to walk right into it herself.

Beside her, Ethan remained very still.

“He actually can't stay.” Lilac said, her voice hitching higher in barely controlled panic. “He has to finish some research for his next case study.”

Griselda looked between Ethan and Lilac, clearly unconvinced. Her crimson lips slowly turned up into a devilish, triumphant smile that would have put the Grinch himself to shame.

Ethan seemed to recover beside her because he cleared his throat.

Then, he moved to stand closer to Lilac and to her utter, complete shock, he wrapped an arm around her waist with enviable grace.

“My research can wait, love,” he said, leaning in to press a kiss to her temple. “If your family wants to meet your boyfriend then that's what they'll do.”

If someone had told him that morning that his day would end at the most pretentious restaurant in the city with Lilac Allende pressed close to his side, he would have recommended a brain CT scan. Yet, there he stood, being hastily introduced to people whose names he had no chance of remembering right away, not when Lilac's hand slid slightly down his chest, scorching him through the very fabric of his shirt.

He glanced down at her and immediately realized what a mistake that had been. The glittering, sinful dress she wore was entirely too distracting on its own, but the charged way her green eyes studied his face... it made the energy between them crackle like an exposed wire.

“Everyone, this is Doctor Ethan Ramsey,” Lilac said to the curious and expectant table. “My…”

She trailed off, turning a bashful glance at Ethan.

“Boyfriend,” Ethan finished without pause. He willfully ignored the thrill the juvenile word sent through him.

As they took their seats, Ethan was still unsure what possessed him to pretend for her sake. All he saw was her cousin's mocking grin and Lilac's dejected, mortified frown and suddenly, he felt the urge to be anything she needed.

“Pleasure, Doctor Ramsey,” Griselda said with as much enthusiasm as someone with a hernia.

Ethan decided right then that if anything else, at least he would enjoy free food and alcohol, all paid for by Lilac's unpleasant cousin. When he looked over at his pretend girlfriend, pale dress glittering in the candle light and looking as radiant as ever, his blood buzzed with unbridled yearning.

“Ramsey?” the blonde man sitting next to Lilac's cousin asked with interest. “Why does that sound familiar? Where do I know you from?”

“Ethan is a world famous doc—”

“Wait,” a young woman with a mountain of curly hair and a kind face interrupted, enthusiastic. “He was in your Miami pictures, wasn't he?”

Ethan blinked.

Beside him, Lilac shook her head frantically at the young woman.

“Natalia,” she hissed, but Natalia either missed this or ignored it.

“You're so photogenic, Doctor,” she commented with a broad grin. “I messaged Lilita about it. The way she talked about you, it was so obvious she was into you.”

Ethan raised an intrigued eyebrow at the lovely, blushing doctor beside him. Lilac, however, studiously avoided his eyes, suddenly very interested in her wine.

A young man sitting next to Natalia laughed. He shared many similarities with her, including the unruly curls.

“I think we all called that one, Nat.”

“Has everyone tried the calamari?” Griselda interjected sharply. Ethan got the impression she didn't appreciate any conversation that was not solely about her. “It is divine.”

As Natalia rolled her eyes and challenged that proclamation, Ethan leaned in close to Lilac, the heady scent of her perfume sending his mind to less than honorable places. She had been leaning in too and they ended almost nose to nose.

“You don't have to do this for much longer,” she whispered. “I can think of something so we can leave.”

Ethan ignored this and instead asked, “Miami pictures?”

She blushed even deeper.

“Into me?”

She was the color of her wine by now.

Ethan had never seen this timid, demure side of her. Typically, the roles were reversed where he was the object of her teasing. As he watched her lovely blush spread down to her graceful neck, Ethan found he enjoyed this dynamic.

It made him wish he could kiss her. Hard.

“Tell her, Lilita,” the curly-haired young man called from his seat, making Griselda's eyes bulge out with indignation. “Aunt Margo's tamales are the only acceptable meal for Christmas.”

“Sebastian, you are making a scene,” Griselda muttered.

“I'll let my mom know you miss her food, Sebas. She'll love you more than she already does,” Lilac laughed.

The sound, accompanied with the fact that she looked so much more at ease, made Ethan's chest glow with contentment.

Before he could stop himself, his hand moved atop hers under the table. Lilac stiffened in surprise but relaxed immediately after, keeping their hands locked.

“I'm just not convinced tamales make for an elegant Christmas dinner,” Griselda was saying.

“Bitch, you grew up in Guadalajara,” Natalia returned at once. “That's all you ate in the winter.”

The whole table laughed, much to Griselda's fury. The blonde man beside her rubbed her back soothingly to no avail. Instead, her sharp eyes zeroed in on Lilac like daggers and an air of conceit returned to her expression.

“So how long have you two been together?”

“A few months,” Ethan returned with ease.

“Ooh,” Natalia commented. “The honeymoon stage! Where you can't keep your hands off the other and all you want to do is—”

“Funny,” Griselda continued, eyes never leaving Lilac. “My cousin never really mentioned you.”

“She never really mentioned you either,” Ethan deflected.

Sebastian almost choked on his drink.

“How did you meet?”

Griselda's question came off as a challenge.

“We work together.”

“Is that allowed?”

“Yes.”

Below the table, Lilac gripped his hand. Ethan squeezed back, wishing more than anything that his lie was true.

“Was it love at first sight?” Natalia asked with genuine interest.

“Have you seen her?” the blonde man joked before Ethan could consider the question or how much he despised the phrase "love at first sight." Something coiled in his stomach at the less than innocent smile the man was sending Lilac's neckline.

His fist clenched at his side, itching to connect with the man's jaw in a swift undercut.

“Keith,” Griselda chided, also looking thoroughly displeased.

Keith did a poor job at looking abashed. This did not fly with Natalia, who Ethan liked more and more each minute, because she glared at Keith and scolded him in both English and Spanish.

“You don't have to answer Nat's question if she asks again, by the way,” Lilac said as her cousins argued.

Ethan said nothing, careful to keep his expression neutral.

If he were to answer the question, the answer would be a resounding no. His feelings for the beautiful young doctor before him did not arise from their first meeting. As a matter of fact, after the thoracotomy, Ethan had walked away thinking her arrogant and impertinent, just like any other fresh-faced intern eager to impress an attending. Except this intern had done so by flirting with him.

Instead, he thought of her hand atop his in the NICU as they watched over Dolores's baby fight for his life; of the comforting hand on his knee as he told her about Naveen; of every kind, warm smile she gifted him with when passing each other in the hallway.

It had decidedly not been love at first sight. The clichéd expression would never be enough to capture the way his heart ached for her every time he laid eyes on her, each time with much more force.

“No amount of free alcohol or expensive food should make you feel obligated to act that much,” Lilac laughed, oblivious. Sparkling green eyes met his, taking in his expression. “What?”

Ethan swallowed. He was unable to decide if he wanted to tell her he was far from acting or if he wanted to pull her close and kiss her.

“We're leaving,” Griselda announced in a harsh and dramatic whisper as a way to end the ongoing argument. She frantically collected her belongings and rose at once.

When she realized no one at the table was saddened by the announcement, she marched out of the restaurant with Keith at her heels. As soon as she was gone, Natalia cackled.

“Well, that was one of the better Grinch-elda dinners.”

Sebastian threw Ethan an appreciative smile. “It appears Doctor Ramsey is the only one who can tame her. She finally met her match.”

“That was her tame?”

The cousins laughed.

After a final round of drinks, Natalia and Sebastian announced that they too had to depart. When they were out the door, Lilac exhaled and relaxed for the first time all evening.

“Thank—”

But Ethan shook his head, interrupting. “Don't mention it, Rookie.”

Lilac gave him a single nod and when she couldn't stand the heat of their eyes on one another’s, she averted her gaze to readjust the front of her dress.

Soon they would each be going their separate ways and this brief fantasy would really be over.

With a pang, he realized he didn't want it to be.

“Lilac?”

“Hmm?”

Her eyes met his and Ethan forgot all coherence, not that he knew what exactly he planned to say anyway. Rosy, plush lips commanded his attention and Ethan leaned in, determined to feel them against his again.

Lilac moved too, until their breaths mingled together, the distance separating them as insignificant as the million reasons they deemed this a bad idea.

They were so close now, Ethan's hand moving to the dip of her waist. She whispered his name, a silent invitation, and the last remnants of restraint vanished.

“Oh shit. Sorry—”

Natalia halted at their table, slightly out of breath, nose and cheeks rosy from the cold. Lilac and Ethan sprang apart, which only made Natalia wince apologetically.

“I'm so sorry to interrupt but I can't believe I forgot to tell you. We're all spending New Year's Eve in Griselda's cabin in Vermont. It’s going to be this but ten times worse so we need all the backup we can get.”

Lilac tensed visibly next to him.

“You two should come.”

Author’s Note: If you made it this far, thank you!

I decided Lilac’s family nickname is Lilita because Latin American families do that all the time. For example, my cousin’s name is Teresa and they call her Teresita (in diminutive form with the -ita/-ito). Which is hilarious to me because they make the names longer rather than shorter. They do that with own full name too, lol. I love it.

Anyway: Hopefully, my inspiration doesn’t vanish for a part 2!

Happy Holidays to everyone!

Tags: @openheart12 , @takeharryandgo , @trappedinfanfiction, @aestheticartsx, @aworldoffandoms, @paulfwesley, @myusualnerdyself, @rookie-ramsey, @ohchoices, @enmchoices, @i-bloody-love-drake-walker, @choicesfanaf, @openheartthot, @octobereighth, @nazarihoe, @utterlyinevitable, @kites-in-our-skies, @maurine07, @schnitzelbutterfingers, @doilooklikeiknow, @snesdudes, @kingliam2019, @perriewinklenerdie, @cinnamonspongecake, , @queencarb, @ethxnrxmsey, @missmiimiie, @jens-diamondchoices, @adamsdumortain, @apphia12, @kalogh, @lucy-268, @binny1985, @queenbirbs, @honeyandsunfl0wers, @newcolonies, @lilyvalentine, @rigatonireid, @interobanginyourmom, @parkerattano, @custaroonie, @nikki-2406, @lilypills, @chasingrobbie, @nooruleman, @lonely-mxxnlight, @ruinedbypixels, @shadynaturehilariouscookie, @tsrookie, @mvalentine, @professorkingslay, @drakewalkerfantasy, @casey-v, @helloblueeyedcat, @mysticaurathings, @blossomanarchy, @thegreentwin, @togetherwearerapture, @rookieoh, @rookiemarsswiftie, @natashajaniphilchoices, @mysticalgalaxysstuff, @hatescapsicum, @choices-lurker, @kiara-36, @junehiratas, @danijimenezv, @macy-ray85, @adrex04, @canigetanawwjunk, @sanchita012, @overwhelminglyaquarius , @scorpiochick8, @skylarklyon, @starrystarrytrouble, @mercury84choices, @drariellevalentine, @ethanrcmsey, @aarisa-frost, @udishaman, @a-crepusculo, @quacksonlover, @caroldxnvxrs, @ramseyandrys, @whatchique, @openheartfanfics@varikasnuori, @dimitriwife, @genevievemd, @shanzay44, @fabi-en-ciel, @trebondialanna, @lady-calypso, @ashiiknees, @dr-ramseys-rookie, @stygianflood, @bellcat2010, @iemcpbchoices, @emotionalswift2, @lion-ess24,

#open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #playchoices #fake dating #my writing #ethan ramsey fanfiction #ethan ramsey x mc #open heart fanfiction #choices fanfiction

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anntoldst0ries · 3 years

Text

Coda (Ethan x MC)

Book: Open Heart 3, Chapter 7 Pairing: Dr Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr Noelle Valentine) Word Count: 3.1k Rating: 18+ (NSFW) Summary: Things got heated between Dr Ramsey and Dr Valentine during Bloom’s event. Will they finish what they’ve started?

Warning: This fic contains adult content, don’t read if you’re a minor.

A/N: Happy Easter, folks! So, let’s pretend this horror of a dress (which, let’s be honest, even Bloom’s PA wouldn’t wear) never happened. Also, this is my first time ever publishing NSFW fic, so please be understanding 🙈 That being said, I always appreciate feedback and am forever grateful for all of you, because you help me grow 💜

Huge shoutout to Bree @jamespotterthefirst who was so lovely to pre-read it and actually encouraged me to post, girl you are golden and I just cannot thank you enough! We are all so lucky to have you 🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼😍

Even though he was trying to be sensible about this, every molecule of sense left him during his left palm’s chance encounter with Noelle Valentine’s bare thigh.

But has anything about their touching bodies ever been truly accidental?

Although, if he was honest, this was just the culmination point.

His rational mind’s death by a thousand cuts.

It all started when she entered the premises of the venue in her provocative dress and he had to blink rapidly a few times, thinking that his eyes were deceiving him, breath trapped in his throat.

Cut.

Her every step gracious and light, as if she’s been the human embodiment of a wood nymph.

As if she’s stolen the world's entire allure.

Cut.

Her silky waves, cascading like a waterfall - he wanted to dive into them, lose himself in them.

Drown in them.

Cut.

She was a prodigy, a goddess descending from mount Olympus, who, for some mysterious reason, decided to grace the mortals with her overwhelming presence.

Some guests were standing agape, the others smiled wide and showered her with rain of compliments; a few people had tiny lightnings of jealousy flickering in their eyes.

But no one was left indifferent by her grand entrance.

Strangely, Ethan didn’t feel jealousy.

In fact, he couldn’t be more proud.

His eyes, like x-rays, have relentlessly been reminding him of the perfect shapes hiding under the layers of the sophisticated, silky material. In this regard, he envied everyone else. Unlike him, imagination was all they had.

He knew. He touched. He teased. He tasted. He caressed.

Sometimes, ignorance was truly a bliss.

Today, ignorance was certainly not going to help him get through this evening.

* * * * * *

He almost lost it on the balcony.

Then, the sudden appearance of musicians interrupted them.

He wasn’t startled.

He was angry.

Freaking Bloom and his jazz band, he thought to himself. How on earth was he constantly able to rain on Ethan’s parade, even when they weren’t physically in the same room?

Noelle’s pearly laugh dissipated all thoughts in an instant, her impossibly beautiful face now turned to him. Entwining their hands, Ethan knew he had no choice but to play along.

Inside, he was laughing out of the other side of his mouth.

They were coming back to the room full of buffoons and right now her presence was as comforting as it was driving him further into insanity.

Before he was even able to sit down, someone has already slipped a drink into his hand and when Ethan was ready to sigh and curse the fate that sent him to Bloom’s 4th circle of hell*, a sudden realisation struck him.

This evening wasn’t lost yet.

In fact, it wasn’t lost at all.

And as he was thinking, a small smile ran past his lips.

The answer was right there in front of him.

* * * * * *

“Dr Ramsey, you’re still here?” Ethan had heard the unwanted and all too loud voice, followed by an even more unwanted pat on the back, accompanied by his nemesis’ reddened face and alcohol breath.

He plastered a fake smile, mustering the remains of politeness.

“You didn’t strike me as a party type, I thought you’d be making excuses a long time ago.” Leland grinned like a Cheshire cat. For a second, an outsider could have almost thought these two hold each other in high regard.

Almost being the key word.

“This is the most pleasant surprise.” Leland continued. “You see, I am rarely wrong, so it’s one of these moments when not only am I wrong, but also being wrong actually makes me happy.” He laughed as if he’s just delivered the best punch line in the world.

“Well, we are representing the hospital after all and I wouldn’t be too much of an example if I left before the rest of my team.” Ethan put on his best charming smile, not without a superhuman effort.

You don’t play the game, you play the opponent, he reminded himself.

“It looks like we are finally agreeing on something, doctor.” A sleazy smile ran past his lips, as he left to mingle with another circle. Inside, Ethan shuddered. There was just something about Bloom that didn’t add up and he was yet to figure what it was… but now his focus shifted to something else entirely.

Just like he predicted (or diagnosed, if you will) with every sip, every passing minute, the guests were falling deeper and deeper into inebriation - the excellent staff made sure that every time someone emptied their glass, a new dose of liquid happiness was ready for them. Dr Ramsey knew this must have been Bloom’s doing.

They may have had money and resources but during these events, they were like wild animals held captive and then suddenly let loose. Their problem was that they thought money could pay for everything, but it certainly couldn’t buy back dignity, redeem bad manners and erase terrible first impressions.

Tonight, he will use this flawed logic to his advantage.

* * * * * *

Noelle was sitting across the table, not even trying to hide anymore that whatever the tech moguls were trying to sell, she wasn’t buying.

Neither their fancy apps nor their bullshit.

Ethan finished yet another glass of scotch and stood up, his height towering over everyone else at the table.

“Well, it’s about time I was moving. Thank you for a very… revelatory evening, gentlemen.” The other table occupiers didn’t even pay too much attention and murmured something, shifting their focus back to the beautiful female doctor. “Dr Valentine, can I offer you a ride home? That is, if you were planning to leave soon…”

“That would be great, thank you, Dr Ramsey.” If her eyes could speak up, they would have definitely thanked him for throwing her a lifebelt.

“Fantastic, meet me outside in 10 minutes then? I have…one more business to attend to beforehand.”

She wasn’t exactly sure what it was — the look, the pause between words, the accentuation - but something told her that whatever business he meant, she was very much a part of it.

Her suspicion has soon turned out to be justified, as his tall figure wandered off and disappeared around the corner.

A corner he had absolutely no reason to disappear around.

The younger doctor waited a minute before making her excuses and assuring her companions that a future partnership with Edenbrook couldn’t look any brighter, Noelle turned around and followed the man in black suit.

Walking as fast as her hurting feet and long gown were allowing her, Noelle entered a long corridor at the back of the fancy restaurant and had to admit that even this place, which must have simply led to different utility rooms, looked spectacular and stylish. Almost like those fairytale corridors, which lead to other dimensions.

But only if a voice summons you and guides you there.

Just as the thought popped into her head, a firm grip tightened around one of her wrists, making her jump.

When she turned around, his index finger was on his lips in a clear message.

Quiet.

They only made a couple of steps before he cautiously opened the door and rushed her into a room. It looked like a sophisticated pantry or a wine cellar and she thought the stock must have been worth more than her annual salary.

The room was dark, bar for the little window, which wasn’t much helpful with providing the light, given that the world outside was hugged by the arms of the night.

“Ethan, what’s goi—“ She never had a chance to finish the sentence, before he took her breath away with his lips, not for the first time this evening. He didn’t stop there, pushing her towards the counter, like a famished animal backing its victim into the corner.

“You said you’ll be looking for an encore, didn’t you?” She was trying to accustom her sight to the darkness, the gleam in the blue of his eyes her only reference point.

“Although, if I’m not mistaken and my opera knowledge is still sharp, I think coda** is actually the word you’re looking for.”

She stilled, a shiver running through her spine, the electric feel both hot and cold. An audible swallow filled the silence that lingered after his words, not for long as he continued his monologue.

“And I’m sorry, Dr Valentine, but I’m not a patient man today…I’ve exhausted all my patience on senseless endeavours this evening.” Almost as if to prove the sincerity of his words, he started moving towards her, his every gesture deliberate; there was no space for randomness.

Every word hit her like a wrecking ball, her remaining senses overkeen. She couldn’t rely on her eyes anymore and her hearing, smell and touch suddenly became heavily heightened, almost supernatural.

She couldn’t reflect on this for too long though, as he backed her further towards the counter, blocking her moves.

“H-how… how do you know no one’s gonna come in?”

Even in the dark, she could see the corners of his lips going up, in a smile which wasn’t affectionate. It was dark, almost sinister.

And hot as hell.

Ethan leaned into her and dropped his voice even lower than she thought was humanly possible, whispering straight into her ear.

“I don’t, but… my diagnostic instincts rarely fail me, Noelle Valentine. Plus… that’s a part of the thrill, isn’t it?” He paused for a second to gloat upon the effect his ministrations had on her. Dr Ramsey enjoyed controlling the situation - more than he’d care to admit.

“Look me in the eye and tell me you haven’t fantasised of this, of losing yourself in me completely… except you couldn’t, because of a tiny detail, a stubborn question in your pretty head… what if someone walks in on us? What if it happens when you are overwhelmed by pure ecstasy, knowing there is no coming back, that the only way is forward…”

Ethan knew immediately that these words hit the jackpot. If she wasn’t before, she was definitely shaking now, her treacherous body betraying her in all ways possible.

That’s how she knew all these months ago. Maybe her mind could, but her body could never lie to Ethan Freaking Ramsey.

Ethan’s hands started roaming her body, discovering his favourite promised land, as if he had not been touching her on that balcony earlier, as if he’d never touched her before.

Because for him, every time with her was first and last. And he hoped things would always feel this way.

“Who are you and what have you done to Ethan Ramsey?”

She couldn’t see the smirk that appeared on his painfully handsome face.

“If I were you, I’d be more worried about what’s to be done to you, Dr Valentine.”

With this, he lifted her up by grabbing her ass and sat her on the counter, pressing her back against the cold wall, which felt strangely warm against her body.

Or not so strangely, given there was a fire inside of her.

Securing her neck with his palm, he pulled her closer for a long, wet and greedy kiss, the obscene sounds of their mouths filling the otherwise silent space.

“Touch me.” A silent plea fell off her lips, her voice a quiet sob. Usually, he’d enjoy teasing her forever, playing little games, checking how far she would go to get what she wanted. But not tonight.

Tonight… he’s gonna give her exactly what she wants.

Because he wants it even more.

His middle and index finger slipped past the silky material of the dress and the band of her underwear. Noelle parted her lips slightly and drew a shallow breath, waiting in anticipation. Her wish was granted a couple of seconds later, when he ran up and down her folds, eliciting a small, guttural moan, which he was sure would forever be his favourite sound in the whole world.

Before she was even able to get used to the feeling, he pushed 2 digits into her without warning, making her eyes wide with amazement. But the movement stilled a second later. Maybe he couldn’t not tease her after all.

“Please.” The sound that came out of her was almost inaudible, yet extremely high pitched. Even if he tried, Ethan simply didn’t know the words that could come close to describing what these reactions were doing to him.

“You know I will give you the world… I will give you anything you want, Noelle. You just need to tell me what it is that you desire.”

She didn’t know what was the biggest turn on - his sultry voice dripping with desire, the feeling of his digits inside her or the well thought out choice of words. But it gave her an answer immediately.

“Fuck me with your fingers, Ethan.”

There was something shy and yet confident about the way she said it, he couldn’t explain it. Whatever it was, it made him even harder, which, at this point he thought wasn’t humanly possible. Although he was painfully aware of his own desire, he couldn’t rid neither her nor himself of the pleasure of watching her come undone on his fingers.

“As you wish, my naughty girl.”

His fingers started moving in come-hither motion, first slowly and teasingly. Just when she opened her mouth to beg him again, his thumb circled her swollen clit and pressed the sensitive bundle of nerves with precision, sending her mind into overdrive. She had to bite her own shoulder to suppress what she was sure would turn into a scream.

“Fuck… yes, right there.” She was an incoherent mess, while his fingers curved and touched places that made her eyes roll. “Faster, Ethan.” She commanded weakly as his fingers picked up the face, going in and out of her furiously.

She was pleading and moaning for god knows what and her hands were desperate to grip something, just anything.

Soon, he knew as well as she did that the peak was close, for her body kept moving and shaking on its own accord.

“I’m…this…you…” She cried, making even less sense than before.

“I know. Let go… let go now, Noelle. I know you needed this so much. Come for me now, baby.”

Sinking her teeth, this time in his shoulder, and tightening her grip on him, Noelle clenched around his fingers, the feeling so arousing that he thought he’s going to explode himself. He had to hold her with all the strength he had in his free arm, as she was all over the place, trembling, cursing, riding out what must have been one of the strongest orgasms she’s ever experienced.

When the feeling settled, Ethan slowly loosened his grip over her and slid his fingers out, bringing them to his lips. The taste of her astounded him every single time.

“In case I haven’t told you before… nothing can compare to the way you taste. Maybe apart from the way you feel, but I need to check to be certain.”

Before he was able to do so himself, she reached for his belt and unbuckled it hastily, letting his pants pool at his feet. Ethan hissed when she was ridding him of the last layer separating them, his throbbing member oversensitive to the slightest touch. He responded in kind, slipping her thongs down.

He stared at her as if he’s forgotten how to blink before saying:

“If I were you, I’d hold on tight.”

She grabbed the edge of the counter and tightened her grip, leaning onto her other arm, palm pressed flat onto the surface. Ethan positioned himself in front of her and the moment his tip met her sex, a wild lust overtook him completely, from top to bottom. He pushed hard, their bodies finally connecting.

He didn’t waste time to make himself or her feel comfortable. Right now, he wasn’t a guest - he was the invader, the intruder, the conqueror.

“Fuck, it’s impossible you’re still so tight.”

In answer, she clenched her muscles around him even more, earning herself a throaty sound.

“You little minx.”

She was going to be the death of him and what an epic death it would be.

“Ethan, fuck me like you mean it.” Noelle bit her lower lip, knowing the effect this tiny gesture always had on him. He didn’t need anything more. The sound of fast thrusts soon filled the air, making it thick and dense. The race started, two lovers chasing their gratification like it was the last thing they were ever going to do.

This wasn’t vanilla.

It was chilli, whiskey neat and flames.

A dance of carnal desires, intense and salient, leading to the grand finale. Nothing finesse, quite the contrary - a satiation of the most primal of human desires.

Ethan kept thrusting into her so deep that she felt blood when she had to bite her lip, trying to stop the animalistic scream trapped in her throat, begging to be released. She felt every vein, every nerve inside of her, every place he was reaching. Her hands and arms hurt, but her mind, currently controlled by Ethan’s cock moving in and out of her in killer pace, has overridden any physical sensations other than pure pleasure.

“So…so close.” She panted weakly, rolling her eyes as waves of pleasure kept crashing on her.

Leaning into her, he caught her earlobe and as he kissed her ear, Ethan groaned. “You’re so,” thrust, “fucking”, thrust, “hot”, thrust, “when”, thrust, “you come.”

And with that, she came.

Her whole body arched and hot white pleasure turned every cell of her body into bliss. It was like jumping into the pool on a sunny day, submerging yourself completely and then just… floating.

Ethan followed her instantly, her climax triggering his own. They were holding onto each other for dear life, compounding the intensity of their sensations and silently praying for this moment to never, ever stop.

When their breathing returned back to normal a few moments later, the older doctor pushed aside strands of her hair that stuck to her face and then cupped her cheeks.

“You ok?” The tenderness in his voice almost made her heart stop.

As if she hasn’t already been dead.

“Ok? No, I’m not ok. I am pretty fucking great.”

“That you are.” He smiled wide. “You are pretty fucking great.”

“Well you are not too bad yourself. How are you feeling?”

“I feel like I died and was reborn, all at the same time.”

They laughed at each other’s choice of words, still in a tight embrace.

“Ready for the next part, Ramsey?”

“Next part?”

“Now we need to sneak out of here for real.”

* * *

* This is a reference to Dante’s poem “Inferno” from “Divine Comedy”

** coda - The final part of a play, film, or narrative in which the strands of the plot are drawn together and matters are explained or resolved

Tag 🏷 list: @starrystarrytrouble @genevievemd @sophxwithers @terrm9 @maurine07 @the-pale-goddess @drakewalkerfantasy @iemcpbchoices @oldminniemcg @schnitzelbutterfingers @mercury84choices @lsvdw-blog @archxxronrookie @queencarb @qrkowna @utterlyinevitable @lucy-268 @udishaman @stygianflood @romereadingshop @romewritingshop @caseyvalentineramsey @xxsugarplumfluffsxx @liaromancewriter @mrs-ramsey @wingedhairstylemusicweasel @fayeswiftie @tsrookie @lisha1valecha @alina-yol-ramsey @stateofgracious @lem-20 @fireycookie

#Ethan Ramsey x mc #open heart #open heart fanfiction #ethan ramsey #play choices #Ethan x noelle

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mystic-shadows42 · 3 years

Text

Heart of Fire

Based on this request:

Pairing: Ubbe x reader

Warnings: None

Ubbe watched boats arrive at Kattegat with curiosity. He was the only one out of the brothers to still be there after Lagertha raided and usurped his mother. Surprisingly, Lagertha showed her mercy so now Aslaug was long gone.

It still made Ubbe bitter. The whole event dragged their family name into the dirt. People would talk but still respected Ragnar. Though nobody was fooled by his sons. The people thought they wouldn’t live up to their father’s name and would give in just like their mother.

Ubbe felt that this whole matter was because of Lagertha. She was everywhere and if she wasn’t there then her name would be. He felt that if Lagertha wasn’t so corrupt with power then their names would still be respected.

There was always conflict between the two. Ubbe never gives her the time of day. He was always a jerk to her while she’d just be irritated with him in general.

There were even talks of there being a rally against Lagertha.

A rally on Aslaug’s behalf. Ubbe wasn’t sure what he’d do just yet. Right now, he was just scouting and weighing his options. Fighting against Lagertha seemed promising to him even though she allowed him to stay in Kattegat.

She was wary of him, that’s why there were always scouts watching him. He didn’t know why he continued to stay. He just felt that he needed to for some odd reason.

He watched Lagertha welcoming her allies then he saw a woman emerge. Lagertha embraced her quickly and looked her over, all the while smiling.

Then it dawned on Ubbe that the mysterious woman must be Lagertha’s daughter. The daughter that nobody really knew of. She was beautiful and had a demanding presence. Before Ubbe could even think of what he was doing, he was already making his way towards you.

He would wait just out of sight until Lagertha left.

You on the other hand caught sight of a particularly handsome man hiding. He wasn’t hiding very well but just enough to not be seen by your mother.

It must be the man your mother warned you about. One of the sons of Ragnar that she couldn’t quite figure out if he was a friend or foe, Ubbe.

Strangely enough, as your mother talked to you, your eyes would glance over to him every once in a while. For the first time in your life, you weren’t listening to what your mother was saying.

You found yourself wanting her to leave so you could talk to him. It was the strangest feeling yet a welcomed one.

When your mother finally left your presence, Ubbe stepped out and lifted his brows at you. He looked you over in great eagerness.

“I thought you a myth. The daughter of shieldmaiden Lagertha standing just before me.”

“I thought you a fraud. The son of Ragnar and Aslaug, blessed with looks and skilled with a sword.”

Ubbe continued to move towards you slowly.

“No doubt about it. You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” His eyes were the bluest you’ve ever seen and they were looking at you. The sight was enough to make you speechless. This was your mother’s supposed enemy and you were ogling him just as he was to you.

You cleared your throat which was enough for Ubbe to change the subject. “So, what brings you to Kattegat?”

“My mother. She sent for me because she is unsure of you as well as your brothers.”

“You’re basically telling me that you could possibly be here to kill me.”

“Exactly, so watch your back,” you said amusingly. You stepped around him and started to head towards the great hall where everyone was gathering. The only thought going through your head was that some distance would do you good.

Ubbe couldn’t help but smile. He should feel threatened and on high alert, but he wasn’t. He wanted to know more. He was quick to turn around and jog up beside you.

“Lagertha’s probably told you all she knows about me, but I don’t know anything about you.”

“Maybe I like it like that.”

Ubbe nodded in understanding. He thought that was fair. Everyone seemed to know about him and his family, but that was just the surface of it all.

“Fine, I’ll tell you something about me personally rather than someone else feeding you false information. I don’t like fighting as much as my brothers. Someday I want to leave Kattegat and start farming to have a better life for my people.”

You were impressed. “You’re different than what I imagined.”

“Is that so bad? Did Lagertha taint your idea of me?”

“She doesn’t speak ill of you. She admires you but I think some of her isn’t finished with Ragnar, so she takes some of her bitterness out on you. I actually think you two could actually get along if you put your egos aside.”

“Friends with Lagertha. What would my mother think, better yet my brothers?”

“Do their opinions really matter?”

“They’re my brothers. Do you care what Lagertha thinks?”

“She’s my mother,” you replied in the same playful tone as he did. Ubbe simply smiled back.

“Perhaps Lagertha sent you here to coax me. Maybe even seduce me.” He mentioned as his eyes widened playfully.

You couldn’t help but chuckle. “You would like that wouldn’t you, but If I was trying to seduce you then you’d know.”

There was a peaceful silence between you both. You couldn’t help the smile that graced your face. Your exchange with Ubbe was far different than what you expected. Your mother had said he was stubborn and stuck up, but he didn’t seem like that at all.

“What about you? Do you crave power like Lagertha?”

“No. Having too much power is dangerous.”

“I understand. Being king changed my father. I suppose that’s one of the reasons I don’t like your mother.”

You were quite surprised by how open he was to express his feelings about your mother to you. “She tries to do what’s best for everyone. She’s not perfect but she does what has to be done.”

After your conversation with Ubbe, you excused yourself. It was eerie just how much you were starting to like him. The best thing to do is to distance yourself from him until he isn’t a threat to your mother.

So that’s exactly what you did. You purposefully stayed on the opposite side of the room, away from Ubbe.

You smiled watching the crowd of people having a good time. Your mother snuck beside you with her eyes only on one person.

“Why does Ubbe stare at you?”

You looked around then saw Ubbe. He smirked under your mother’s scrutinizing gaze. You slightly tilted your head as a hint for him not to stare. All he did was hold up his cup in the air towards you both.

It took all of your being not to laugh because you know your mother would be infuriated at the notion. He did it as a way to mock her.

“Ubbe’s eyes wander over everybody mother. There’s no need to worry.”

“I worry because I know the ways of men. I’m not blind, I saw you two earlier. Just be sure not to fall for him like I did with Ragnar.” You sighed deeply not wanting to hear any of this now. Everyone was having a good time but your mother was still on high alert. “I just don’t want to see you get your heartbroken over someone who doesn’t deserve it.”

“Trust me mother, my heart belongs to no one but me.”

“It’s just that... Ubbe doesn’t smile and he smiles at you every time.”

You grabbed your mother’s arms and looked into her eyes. “Mother, please try to relax. There’s no need to worry. There’s no fight, so stop looking for one. Just enjoy today.”

The big gathering of troops made everyone feel joyous and want to celebrate. People were playing music and dancing. You clapped your hands as couples got up and danced around in circles with their partners.

A man outstretched his hand to you to dance. You accepted before there could be any hints of doubt in your mind. You danced with the man and looked over to Ubbe to see him already looking at you.

Ubbe took a swig of his drink and stood up heading towards you. Once the man you were dancing with saw Ubbe he dismissed himself to find another partner to dance with.

“I didn’t peg you as a dancer.”

“You never asked.”

You didn’t know how long you were dancing with Ubbe for but time didn’t seem of the essence at the moment. Everything with Ubbe seemed timeless and easy.

Though when the thought of your mother came to mind, that changed. She didn’t trust Ubbe and she definitely wouldn’t like seeing you with him right now.

You dropped your hands from Ubbe’s. He got closer to you to see what was wrong but he stopped when you looked at him. “I better get settled in for the night.”

He cleared his throat and took a step back. “Right. Well goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight Ubbe.”

Ubbe watched you leave fighting the urge to walk with you. When he looked back into the crowd, he saw Lagertha giving him an unamused look. He sighed loudly and knew he wasn’t going to hear the end of it.

He was making his way out of the crowd knowing Lagertha would likely follow. Of course, she caught up and tugged on his arm.

“I want you to listen to what I have to say Ubbe.”

Ubbe exhaled loudly trying not to become irritated after such a good day which was rare for him.

“By all means, go on,” he said sarcastically as Lagertha stood in front of him to block his path.

“I want you to distance yourself from my daughter.”

Ubbe began to chuckle making Lagertha become aggravated.

“I can’t do that Lagertha. I know how much your daughter means to you but you’re going to have to let her make decisions for herself. If that includes being around me, then so be it.”

“You’re a mirror image of my ex-husband, your father. You remind me a lot of him. You have his ambitions but you also have his flaws.”

“The flaws are all you see in me Lagertha. The difference between me and my father is that I won’t abandon my responsibilities. I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I trust your daughter a lot more than you.”

“You’ve only just met her yet you speak as if you two are more than just friends. Let me remind you that you’re married Ubbe. So is she.”

Ubbe narrowed his brows. “You lie.”

“I may not like you Ubbe but I would never lie.” Lagertha circled Ubbe as he was deep in thought. “It seems that my daughter may not have been completely honest with you but you shouldn’t be angry with her. You have a wife of your own or have you forgotten? Now go on with your life and quit trying to get with my daughter to spite me.”

“Have you not been listening?! I’m not trying to get close to your daughter to make you angry. It’s genuine with her. I felt it the moment I saw her. So did she though she might be a bit prideful to admit it.”

Lagertha didn’t like it one bit. She willed herself not to reach for her weapon. So she gritted her teeth and would only leave him a warning.

“Keep your distance.”

Tagged: @belovedcherry @lordsexmachine @lol-haha-joke @mariaenchanted @ethereallysimple @bababasti @ir-abelas-telanadas

#Ubbe #Ubbe Lothbrok #Ubbe ragnarsson #Ubbe x reader #Ubbe imagine #vikings #Vikings fanfiction

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starsuh · 3 years

Text

do re mi | myg

featuring. min yoongi x reader | 3.2k

summary. while teaching you how to play piano, min yoongi realizes that his dumbass might have feelings for you after all.

genre. fluff | f2l | roommate!au | mutual pining

warnings. a quarter-life crisis and a soft make-out scene at the end

Amongst Min Yoongi's many talents, his sixth sense of knowing when something was bothering you was the one that most oft caught you off guard. Whether it was the intensity in which you slammed a door shut, or the way in which you didn't choose to annoy the fuck out him like you did every other day of the week; he would notice each time. It was only clockwork that he tentatively wrapped his arm around your shoulders when you had collapsed against the couch with perceptible chagrin.

"What's up?" he asked, a simple question that often entailed a more than complicated answer. Peering down at your tightened features, he awkwardly patted your shoulder as if to make known that silence would be just as valid of a reply.

You ran your hands through your face. "I don't know,” you said. If you did, you would've told him, just as you told him everything. Though the pair of you had began as merely two people who happened to be roommates because there were no other affordable options, spending months watching Netflix with another person tends to lead to friendship — even best-friendship, though neither of you had established such a title. It was the kind of friendship that needn't clarification, rather it was just another unequivocal fact amongst many.

After kicking off your shoes (Yoongi would scold you for that in a less emotionally-turbulent time), you pulled your knees up to your chest and wrapped your arms around them in a ball-like manner. "It's really fucking lame but I’m just realizing some things,” he nodded, prompting you to continue. "I'm scared of the future, I think. I mean, everyone is, but when our prof was talking about internships and shit earlier I kind of freaked out then decided that hiding in the bathroom was the best option.”

In his gaze was a reassurance so intent that you had to look away lest you become ensnared in it. He oft had that effect, increasingly so throughout the past few weeks. "What about it?"

Your eyes fluttered closed as you took a deep breath. “I think I know what I want to do, but then I see other people, people like you, who are so passionate about their place on Earth that to not do that thing would be a fate worse than death. Like, I love the path that I’m on but there’s always a voice that’s telling me I’m gonna fuck something up and regret everything.” You played with the loose threads of your top, pulling at the offending stitching. You laughed. “This is so stupid. I guess I’m just realizing that I might not be cut out for it.”

His sudden silence filled the room so heavily that you began to wonder if you shouldn’t have said anything at all. Gears turned behind the messy black mop atop his head that hung over his eyes; a face similar to the one he makes when contemplating a new track he had produced, seeking for each of its flaws and corresponding solutions.

It was so sudden when he reached down to grab your hand that you almost jumped. An inch away from falling onto his chest with the sudden upwards tug, you steeled yourself. "I'll show you something," he said to which you replied with a questioning stare. "It'll just be a sec, c'mon."

You allowed him to drag you to his bedroom, though not without glaring at the back of his head and whining. "Your room smells like Cheetos and day-old boxers."

He rolled his eyes. "I cleaned it this morning, so shut up."

He pushed the door closed with his hip, never once letting go of your hand until he unceremoniously shoved you towards the left end of the keyboard bench. You wiped the accumulated hand sweat against the rough fabric of your jeans, both thankful yet forlorn that he had let go. His was a comfort rarely given and you craved his affection the way one did with a cat that ignored those around it.

He reached down to plug the extension into the socket. "Can I play you something?"

You blinked, unsure if the nervous tone laced in the question was figment or reality. “What?”

He gave you a blank stare though it didn’t distract you from the way his hands fidgeted in his lap. “I said, can I play you something? Something I wrote?”

Impatient, he didn’t give you a second glance or a moment to reply before his hands flew across the board, pulling melodies out of the nooks and crannies of its black and white keys. Through every note, he told you of emotion, of love, of heartbreak and melancholy. You don't think you had ever understood what music was until then. It was more than his expertise, though he was quite the expert; it was the way his eyes closed at certain shrills and the way his shoulders hunched at others, the way he slammed harder into the keys and at other parts softer. He played like a poet. A writer. And you refused to be someone who didn't appreciate it for what it was: a story told to you.

The slight smirk gracing his soft features told you that he found amusing the way your mouth gaped open in shock. You’d only ever heard the distant echoes of his sound from behind closed doors as you walked past.

Yoongi had never played for you before, was even shocked that he was able to now, knowing that your mere presence in close proximity provided quite the distraction.

When he stopped, the air almost rang in its silence, as if you had forgotten what the world sounded like without his music in it. The hush blanket laid across the room felt bare and vulnerable. You understood now more than ever why he locked himself within the confines of his space in all hours of the day. If you could live in his symphonies, you would.

"Wow.” Because what else could be said? "That was... Yoongi, you're amazing."

His smirk remained, though as more of a mask to hide softer feelings behind. "Must've been if you're complimenting me for once.”

"Because you already have a ginormous ego."

He began playing once more. This time, a slow and deceptively simple melody. The chords were arrows tightly strung that flew through the air in wisps of smoke. To you, its warmth was paralleled to the feeling of his own beside you, his arm occasionally brushing yours as he reached to play a few lower keys.

"I think you're taking it too seriously," he said. "The future, I mean."

Your brows furrowed. "I kind of have to, dude."

He rolled his eyes but kept playing, occasionally glancing at you as he did so. "What I mean is," he pressed softly against the keys in the left end of the piano, their tenor notes filling your ears. "You need to calm down. Like this," the already soft melody slowed. "You know what you want, don't you? Why are you hesitating?"

You stilled, the feeling of being both caught and scolded grounding you in time. Your eyes focused on his hands to avoid the feeling of his analyzing gaze on the side of your face. “There are things I want to accomplish but there’s also things I want to have,” you groaned in exasperation. “I don’t know if I should choose the former or the latter but they’re so entangled that I can’t even tell which is which anymore.”

"Some things are only difficult if you think they're difficult." He looked down at the keys. "Like playing the piano, everyone knows that learning it is hard but something like this-" he played three chords in succession. "-sounds simple, right?" He continued to play those same chords until they blended together in a single melodious breeze. "But when I was a kid, learning piano was the bane of my twelve year old existence. I hated it so much because my impatient ass wanted to be good without trying. So, in true dumbass fashion, I quit taking lessons after two weeks."

You tilted your head towards him. “How did you learn then?"

“Well, I realized I was being a huge pussy and went back." Shaking his head before the glaze of the memory could wash over, he nodded towards you. Grabbing your hand, he placed them over the keys. “Can I teach you a chord?”

Your heart spiked in one fell swoop. “What? And embarrass myself in front of the music god himself?"

He laughed and it lit up his eyes brighter than the screen of his laptop that he had forgotten to shut off, still on the League of Legends home screen. “I told you, it's only hard if you think it is."

Too flustered to argue, you could only watch as he directed your fingers towards the correct keys until three were stretched towards their respective positions. C Major. You wondered if he could hear the rapid pace of your heart through the vibrations on your skin from where his larger hand rested atop your own. You could only pray to any god who would listen that he didn’t.

Among the numerous feelings that bubbled beneath your chest, the sudden pinch of ice that struck your nerves as he lifted his palm away from yours was one that you were the most unsure of. Filing that thought away for later, you focused on the most important task at hand: avoiding looking like an idiot in front of Min Yoongi.

Before you could retreat, your hands pressed down.

A sudden burst of sound filled the silence that you hadn't realized had grown so deafening. Your eyes widened as if you hadn't expected the chord to occur despite Yoongi's administrations, like trying to guess a passcode and getting it correct in a miraculous feat of luck. The now fading sound was not like anything you were expecting, though you knew even monkeys could do what you had just done. It was an actual piece of the puzzle that was music rather than the CD case or paper bag that had come with it.

Likened to an excited pup, you looked towards him for praise or assurance that you had done it right only to catch his already grinning countenance at your widened eyes.

For the next half hour he taught you two other basic chords, never failing to correct you in such a patient manner that your heart rose and fell with each glance and soft appraisal.

"But sometimes," he grinned. "Sometimes you need to stop thinking."

Your brows furrowed, though you didn’t need more than a few seconds to understand his cryptic wording before you yelped, almost flying off your seat at the abrupt disruption of the peace.

He began smashing his hands against the piano, creating the worst orchestra your ears had ever had the pleasure to hear. Overcoming the shock, both of yours laughs bubbled out, drowned by the keyboard speakers. Without a second thought, you joined, key smashing against the lower end. Together, you created an ear-grating masterpiece of cacophonous noise and piercing melody, yet it was still one of the most beautiful things you’d ever heard.

Yoongi began cheering your name like the greatest hypeman in existence as you gave the most effortful performance of your life, hands pressing against the first keys you saw to the last. You didn't know what you were doing but it didn't matter, not when he was smiling with his gums on full display as you went with your gut for the first time in years. Yoongi, the boy whose hands crafted magic, whose words changed you, whose music moved you. Yoongi, who looked at you and saw past your forced pretensions and society-enforced perceptions.

You laughed until your lungs ached for air, having not even realized that your whole body leant against his as you tried to catch your breath.

"Oh my god, I think my ears are broken," you covered them, finally dragging your hands away from the keys.

His grin widened. “You're a quick learner."

“Is this the part where I say that it's because you're a good teacher?"

“Only if you're polite, which we know you aren't." He hadn't stopped smiling and you had never felt prouder of any accomplishment in your entire life. “Was I able to distract you?"

You laughed, bringing your hands back to your lap to fiddle with them. He's seen you wear the same ramen-stained hoodie three days in a row with hair just as ratty yet you had never more felt exposed. “I’d say yes but I think I’ve exceeded my Yoongi compliment limit for the day."

"And here I was thinking that that compliment limit was zero."

"Hey," you playfully knocked against his shoulder. "I always say your breakfast is good."

He knocked against you back, his eyes turnt to half-moons. "That's because you want to brainwash me into cooking for you everyday with half-assed compliments."

"Or maybe," you lightly leaned against his hoodie-covered shoulder. "It's because I like eating breakfast with you."

He paused, and a grin that could only be described as shy graced his features. He tapped against the keyboard but didn't press hard enough to allow a sound to be let out.

"I trust you," he said in the silence. "That you can follow your heart. Even if that sounds corny as fuck, I really believe it."

You smiled, something you've been doing more and more often with him around. "I'll try," you said, watching as he contemplated his next words with a bite of his bottom lip. Giving him time, you glanced back at the piano. "Is it really that simple?" You pressed on a key.

He finally looked up. "I think so," he played the key beside the one you had just pressed, the side of it touching yours. "Even if it doesn't sound right to other people, who's to say that random key smashing isn't music? When you think you're supposed to play a certain way, that's when you hesitate. Even when you fuck up a piece," he pressed another key. "Regretting it doesn't stop the echo."

He began to play another soft melody, leaving you just as entranced as you were the first time he did.

“I’m a hypocrite, though,” he closed his eyes, lightly scoffing. “Giving you advice that I can’t even take.”

Your voice came out in a whisper. “Why?”

“Because...” He took a deep breath, hands leaving the keyboard as he fully turned to you. “I like you," he said it like it were a fact you should've already known. “I... I like you. A lot. I can't remember when you stopped being my annoying roommate who'd hog the fridge space and became the annoying roommate who I couldn't stop writing songs about. Before I could even realize and stop myself, today’s me kept looking forward to tomorrow’s you. I’d be a hypocrite to tell you to stop hesitating about the things in your life while I spent every second of every day wondering whether I should tell you my feelings and ruin our friendship.”

For if there was anything Yoongi knew more than most was that love was fucking stupid. It caused people to be irrational, selfless, and weak-hearted, yet why did he want to forget the stupidity that came with it whenever you walked into the kitchen for breakfast, hair messy and shirt tousled?

Love was fucking stupid. But maybe he could be an idiot if it meant that you'd be stupid for him too.

“I know you don't feel the same way but I just needed to tell-" you kissed him before he could finish what was sure to be a sentence so ridiculous that even the most astute of linguists would be left baffled. He was Min Yoongi. The boy who spent all day locked in his room making music and playing games with his friends. The roommate who'd wake up early just to cook you breakfast. The friend who knew you better than you knew yourself. The man who you'd found yourself falling for with every gummy smile. Yoongi. It had always been Yoongi.

And he was kissing you back.

His lips were as warm as the hands that carefully wrapped around your hips, gently pulling you closer to him. He kissed the way he played, soft and thoughtful.

Pulling away, he whispered your name slowly, prolonging each letter as if to savor them. Never before had your name ever felt so wonderful a one. His forehead pressed against yours, eyes flickering between yours in disbelief. The hand around your waist tightened as if in fear that at any moment you might say that you hadn't meant to give him what had to be the best moment of his life -- that you had actually accidentally fallen on him and he had simply been mistaken.

"You're an idiot," you laughed. "I've liked you since the first time you've cooked me breakfast if the heart eyes I gave you each time weren't already a dead giveaway."

He shuffled in his seat. "You have low standards then," he said. "Or are in desperate search for a house-husband."

You smiled, your nose brushing against his. "Maybe, a bit of both."

He leaned away from you, eyes lit up in a euphoria that didn't hinder from his nervous cadence. "Actually, that song I played for you? Earlier?” You’d never seen him blush before. “I, maybe, composed it thinking of you.”

"A personal chef, jester, and composer? I think I'm winning."

His nose crinkled. "You know you can still back out, right?"

"You're acting as if I'd even want to."

"Stupid songs like that... I suck at love yet I still want to give you everything," he whispered, voice hoarse. "But my everything will still only amount to that."

"If that's your everything,” your hands interlocked with his. “Then your everything is more than enough."

"I like you," he murmured the confession between your lips as if it were clandestine, the urge to say it a million times more bubbling up from his chest. Though stronger than his urge to say it was his urge to hear you say it back.

Your lips met his completely. Perfectly. "I like you, too."

Pulling away once more you couldn't help but laugh at the reddened color of his cheeks and ears. Cutting away at the awkward and still unsure tension, he inched backwards with a startlingly loud clap of his hands. "Now that that's settled, can we go back to making out? This corny shit is so awkward."

"I can't believe I like you," you groaned but kissed him back anyway.

While there was nothing in your life that you could be sure of, you knew that the man whose smile could light up the entire city of Seoul would be there for you for every step, and you wouldn’t have had it any other way.

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secretmellowblog · 4 years

Text

Bishop Myriel sucks sometimes: a callout post (I have RECEIPTS)

Heretical Hot Take: bishop myriel is not perfect and actually kinda sucks sometimes.

Yes, Myriel lies to cops and swindles rich people in order to give to the poor, which are objectively good things to do! And we love him for it!

But Myriel’s major character flaw is that while he acknowledges the way society works is bad ....he’s afraid to make the leap to “so we need to change society.”

For example: Myriel makes a big deal about how he doesn’t want anyone to worship him just because he’s a bishop; he thinks bishops should be humble; he doesn’t think bishops should be put above everyone else and called by fancy titles like Monseigneur.

But when Myriel goes to visit the Conventionist from the French Revolution-- someone he deliberately avoided because he was afraid of his politics-- he gets VERY uncomfortable when the man doesn’t treat him with the “proper respect”’and call him “Monseigneur.”

(Myriel), who on occasion, was so fond of laughing at “His Grace,” was rather shocked at not being addressed as Monseigneur, and he was almost tempted to retort “citizen.”

Myriel’s all “uwu I’m just like one of you poors” until someone’s casually like “yes, you are, and I’m not going to give you a Prize for saying what should be a commonly accepted fact.The system that arbitrarily gave you so much power is unfair and it should be dismantled.” Then Myriel’s suddenly like “wait no. >:(”

The moment where Myriel gets upset when the Conventionist doesn’t call him monseigneur reminds me of Marius getting upset when Javert doesn’t call him monsieur:

“No more than yourself!” retorted Marius rudely. He had begun to notice that this police agent had not yet said “monsieur” to him.

Both the Bishop and Marius were wealthy people whose families were on the losing side of a revolution/war. They both came into a bunch of money-- Myriel’s bishop salary, Marius’s monetary stability with Gillenormand-- but both decided to give that money up for the sake of their ideals. They feel sorry for poor people and often give money to help them. They don’t think they’re bigoted. But when someone they see as beneath them doesn’t treat them with the “proper” respect........they get uncomfortable!

also side note: I wonder if Marius is going to eventually end up the kind of person Myriel became?

To be fair, Myriel’s anxiety around the idea of political change is partially due to his Tragic Backstory. He was from a wealthy family whose members were killed off during the French Revolution.

And the entire point of Myriel’s long conversation with the Conventionist is that he does ultimately realize that Maybe Revolution is Good Actually! Myriel is far better at confronting his own biases than Marius!

However...

I think the moment that shows Myriel’s limitations the best is the way he treats a criminal who’s about to be executed.

Myriel loathes the death penalty. He doesn’t believe the condemned man deserves to die. So he takes care of the condemned man, prays with him, is kind to him, literally walks with him to the scaffold and offers him comfort until the moment of his execution, and does literally everything he is allowed to do to make the man’s last hours more peaceful.

But he’s not able to stop the condemned man from being killed.

The moment that struck me the most while rereading these chapters was the one that comes right after that:

The guillotine is the concretion of the law (....) it is not neutral, and it does not permit you to remain neutral.

(....)

The Bishop appeared to be crushed. The almost violent serenity of the funereal moment had disappeared; the phantom of social justice tormented him. He, who generally returned from all his deeds with a radiant satisfaction, seemed to be reproaching himself. At times he talked to himself, and stammered lugubrious monologues in a low voice. This is one which his sister overheard one evening and preserved: “I did not think that it was so monstrous. It is wrong to become absorbed in the divine law to such a degree as not to perceive human law.....”

Lawful neutral doesn’t exist! When the law is killing people, you can’t remain “neutral” to it. You have to decide whether you’re okay with the laws or whether you want them to change.

I don’t think Myriel is neutral. But everything Myriel does is just....mitigating damage, not stopping the damage from happening in the first place. And he realizes that, he realizes how limited he is in what he can do, and reproaches himself for it.

Myriel helps a man who’s condemned death, and that kindness matters. But the man is still executed anyway.

Myriel lies/manipulates stingy rich people into giving him money so he can give it to charity, and gives so much of his own money away to charity, and that kindness matters. But no matter how many individual people he helps, the larger system that causes poverty remains intact.

Myriel lies to cops in order to save Valjean, and that kindness matters. But it also doesn’t stop Valjean from being hounded by the police for the rest of his life.

Idk I feel like the point is that....In a perfect world, Myriel’s brand of kindness wouldn’t be necessary. If the death penalty was gone, he wouldn’t have to desperately try to comfort someone on their way to the scaffold. If wealth was distributed more equally, he wouldn’t have to beg and manipulate stingy rich people into donating to the poor. If police were abolished, he wouldn’t have to lie to defend the vulnerable people they target.

I don’t know how coherent this is, but the feeling I get is that....Myriel’s kindness is important, but very limited in its ability to cause actual social change, and Myriel himself is aware of that.

#les mis #bishop myriel #brick club #idk how coherent this is but yeah #I also was focusing on the Monseigneur moment #but only because it's like...a Symbol of his anxiety around the conventionist in general #it's not just that one moment it's his whole Deal with the Conventionist #lol

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