#it is not up to any of us to poison her against him. we shouldn’t be doing that. this situation is fraught enough
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Endless Nighttime Sky
pairing: feyd-rautha harkonnen x f!reader
summary: feyd-rautha was never supposed to be a harkonnen.
wc: 2240
warnings: angst, canon typical violence, referenced sex, references to the baron being a creep, major character death
a/n: i merged pt 2 movie feyd and book feyd bc my antidepressants won’t let me sleep or cry or feel so now we all suffer
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Feyd-Rautha’s life has never been colorful, even before his Uncle brought him and his brother to Giedi Prime after the incident. But Lankiveil was a different type of colorless than Giedi Prime. Endless snow and endless sea and endless sky were only ever interrupted by the occasional building or boat or cloud, it was a natural absence of color. On Giedi Prime, color wasn’t absent, rather, it was stolen. Extinguished by the light of the black sun.
As a child, he could step outside and see the pink of his skin, the blue of the sea, and her cerise colored lips stretched into a smile. Feyd tried not to think of such things underneath the black sun of Giedi Prime, focusing instead on the blades in his hands, the rush of blood in his veins, and the roar of the crowd as he cut down his opponent. It’s easy in the arena, watching the blood seep out of wounds of the fighting men, like watching ink bleed across paper.
As the second son of a second son, Feyd shouldn’t have been the heir to anything, let alone his Uncle’s Barony, but his Uncle’s preferences and his brother’s violent tendencies all but shoved the title of na-Baron into his lap. He wishes he could’ve kept his mother’s name, wishes the name Rabban hadn’t been tainted by his degenerate brother, wishes he hadn’t been corrupted by the Harkonnen name.
Glossu was supposed to be Uncle’s heir. Glossu “Beast” Rabban should’ve been na-Baron Glossu Harkonnen. Glossu was supposed to go to Giedi Prime by himself, and Feyd wouldn’t have had to learn to fight as a gladiator, to hide poison needles in his clothes, to seek comfort in pleasure slaves and pain. Feyd-Rautha Rabban would’ve learned how to navigate using the stars and how to sail the icy seas and how to love his wife, a girl promised to him since conception.
He thinks he already did love her, when he was a child and still the future Count of Lankiveil and she was the future Countess. He remembers her fondly with a burning behind his eyes and a tightness in his chest that he suppresses because that is a weakness he cannot afford. But sometimes when he’s alone, after a fight or a fuck or another filler, he allows himself to think of cold nights. Whale fur kept the two of them dry and warm in the snow as they made their way to the lighthouse. They’d race up the stairs and he would win every time because his legs were slightly longer and he could take two at a time and only trip once.
The door to the gallery was heavy, but he’d manage to open it before she could catch up with him. He would hold it open for her until she joined him outside, and they’d laugh at their mingling breath visible in the frigid air before leaning against the railing, uncaring of whether or not the old metal could hold their combined weight. She would point at which constellations were visible in the sky and list off the most memorable stars. Feyd would listen even though he already knew which constellations were out and every star in each one, not just the brightest or prettiest sounding, because he was the future Count of Lankiveil and he would need to know those things. But letting her talk meant he could watch her, admire her red nose, rosy cheeks, cerise smile, and messy hair.
Feyd can’t remember which stars she had chosen to name their children after, can’t even remember which constellations were visible on Lankiveil from the Rabban manse. Giedi Prime is far, surrounded by different constellations, different stars, and polluted with millennia of industry. Even if he looked to the sky, there wouldn’t be any stars to name.
He doesn’t think of stars in the arena. Or even the black sun and the colors it stole. He focuses on the blades in his hand, the drugged Atreides soldiers he is meant to kill, and Lady Margot Fenring. Except one of the soldiers isn’t drugged. It’s not really a problem, Feyd is an excellent fighter. Gladiator fights are mere public training matches for him. It’s been years since he struggled against anyone in a fight. But it’s unexpected, which means someone planned to catch him off guard. He would accuse Glossu if he thought his brother had the intelligence to come up with such a plan. It could only be his Uncle and that twisted Mentat of his.
The sober soldier’s movements are too exact, missing the sluggish, inaccurate movements of intoxication. If he were a lesser man he’d let his surprise affect his fighting, slip up, make a mistake, but he was trained for this. The fireworks go off, signaling his victory with inky explosions in the sky, all color and brightness consumed by the black hole sun, and Feyd represses the memories of his first fight—not in the arena, but at home. On Lankiveil, in the snow, him against Glossu.
Lady Margot Fenring proves to be an excellent comfort. She provides the necessary pain and pleasure while he’s free to relinquish control. But he’s grown too accustomed to the almost inhuman appearance of those on Giedi Prime. Their hairless, paper white skin, dilated pupils, androgynous figures. It’s easy to lose track of who is who, to pretend the pain and pleasure is entirely him, that he is whole. But Lady Margot Fenring doesn’t subscribe to the beauty standards of Giedi Prime. In the unnatural lighting of his chambers, he can see the pink of her skin, her pupil surrounded by her iris, and the peach fuzz on her arms.
When Lady Margot Fenring leaves, Feyd allows himself to remember the girl that would have been his wife. They would have been married by now. It would’ve been a winter wedding regardless of season because there was always a pileup of snow near the Rabban manse. Her dress would have been as white as the snow, made of silk and lined with whale fur to keep warm, and dripping in diamonds and pearls. She’d be a woman grown, bust and waist filled out, but her nose red, cheeks rosy, and her cerise colored lips curved in a smile. They’d consummate their marriage in the warmth of the Rabban manse and he’d have his own future Count of Lankiveil on the way.
Feyd can understand the economic allure of Arrakis, but actually being on the desert planet feels wrong. He was born on the snowy seaside, the complete opposite of Arrakis. Dry heat feels uncomfortable on his skin, reminding him of the warnings his parents told him about frostbite, becoming so cold you believe you're overheating. But his presence was necessary, otherwise his Uncle’s scheming for him to end up on the throne would all be for naught.
He’s not particularly worried when Arrakeen is attacked. When he’s rounded up with the Emperor and his people to meet the leader of the fremen, the one they call Muad’Dib, he allows the guards to take his weapons and ignores the one that openly glares at him with pure loathing. He stands at the back of the crowd, vaguely listening to the apparently not dead Paul Atreides bicker with the old crone before addressing the Emperor. It’s much the same drivel as before, until—
“Majesty, is there a Harkonnen among you?”
“I believe my entourage has been placed under the protection of your ducal word.”
And again Atreides begins his bickering with the Emperor, setting a trap until he gets what he wants.
“Kanly!”
Feyd has grown tired of this.
“Your father named his vendetta, Atreides. You call me a coward while you hide among your women and offer to send a lackey against me!”
There is no black hole sun on Arrakis to steal away the color, no blades in his hand to wield against inebriated flesh, no pleasure for comfort. Only pain.
The Emperor and his truthsayer discuss the rules of kanly. Atreides’ own people try to talk him out of the challenge.
“Is the Atreides ready?” Feyd called once the Emperor’s blade sat alone on the floor, everyone else cleared away for the ritual duel.
“May thy knife chip and shatter!” Atreides forwent the ritual words, gesturing for Feyd to pick up the Emperor’s blade.
“May thy knife chip and shatter,” Feyd mocked, getting a feel for the knife in his hand.
“Shall we fight, cousin?” Atreides asked, cat-footing forward with his own blade in hand, crouched low to the floor.
“How beautifully you dance,” Feyd said as they began to circle each other, meeting his eyes and forcing himself to remain composed as he’s reminded of a frigid sea. “Have you been shriven?”
No response. Only blue within blue.
They circle each other.
He continues his taunts, earning only a smile from Atreides as they turn. Feyd leaps at him, feinting with his right hand only to switch the knife to his left. He tries not to remember her hand in his, switching so that she’d be farther away from the cliff face and the choppy waves crashing against the frozen rocks.
“Perhaps you think this dance prolongs your life a few moments,” Feyd said, standing still and straightening.
Atreides doesn’t attack, still hesitant.
“Why prolong the inevitable? You but keep me from exercising my rights over this ball of dirt.”
In truth, there was nothing he wanted more than to leave Arrakis. He wanted to return to Lankiveil where he could rule as Count, wear whale fur-lined clothes without poison needles hidden in the fabric, and look for his children among the stars.
“Why don’t you speak?”
Somehow, even with the threat of death, Atreides managed to make a fight boring.
“You smile, eh?” Feyd asked, leaping mid sentence and catching Atreides’ left arm with the downflash of his blade.
The two return to circling each other, crouching low to the floor.
“That woman you were talking to over there. The little one. Is she something special to you? A pet perhaps? Will she deserve my special attentions?”
Feyd’s chest tightens as he sees the imagined white silk dress embellished with diamonds and pearls, a cerise smile, and her hair messily done up to make room for the fur capelet tied around her shoulders.
Atreides remains silent, smiling, and Feyd leaps forward, stabbing. Feinting slowness, Atreides managed to land a cut before Feyd jumped away, switching the knife in his hands.
Again, they begin to circle each other, watching. Atreides moving his knife to his left hand to match Feyd. Blue within blue, Feyd can see her smile frozen on her face, lips turning blue and the waves rising higher.
Feyd approaches Atreides, feinting right and under, until they’re pressed against each other, knife hands straining. Atreides forces them to turn right, barely missing the poison dart flipping out from Feyd’s belt, trapping himself beneath the Harkonnen.
Even though he’s the one speaking, Feyd isn’t quite sure what he’s saying. Something about the poison dart, most likely. But staring into the Atreides’ eyes of Ibad, Feyd only thinks of the girl that would’ve been his wife. Of his first fight in the snow, the rage he felt after his brother threw his betrothed aside carelessly, over the cliffside into the frozen, rocky waves. How his father tried to stop the beast, only to be killed himself, and the two brothers were left on the cliffside alone. Breathing ragged, bleeding, and their eyes burning with unshed, frozen tears.
His hair had been long then, he’s sure Glossu ripped out part of his scalp along with a lock of his dark hair when he first tackled him. He can still see her soaked to the bone lying broken on the rocks, so drenched and frozen was she that her whale fur coat had no chance of helping, her messy hair plastered to her graying skin, lips turned blue.
“I will not say it!” Atreides gasped, stunning Feyd out of his reverie.
Atreides used the fraction of an opening to find a weakness of balance in Feyd’s leg muscles. Suddenly their positions were switched, and Feyd was partially underneath Atreides, unable to turn due to his poison needle catching on the floor, and Atreides twisted his left hand free to plunge his knife up through Feyd’s jaw and into his brain.
His body sagged to the ground, lifeless. There was no black hole sun to hide the paling of his corpse, to liken his blood to spilled ink, to steal the color of the scene.
“Feyd!” A girlish voice snapped at him.
“You’re not even paying attention,” she sighed, leaning away from him on the balcony of the lighthouse.
“Then tell me again,” Feyd said, sliding along railing to be next to her again.
Her cerise colored lips curve back into a smile as her hand dashed out to grab his jaw to force his eyes to the stars. The underside of his jaw is warmed by the soft skin of her palm, her small fingers freezing fast in the weather now that they’re not sheltered by the pocket of her coat. Still, she doesn’t move her hand, waving the other one wildly at the sky, focusing his attention on the stars as she tries to convince him that Mirzam is the perfect name for their son.
#feyd x reader#feyd rautha x reader#feyd rautha harkonnen x reader#feyd x you#feyd rautha x you#feyd rautha harkonnen x you#dune x reader#dune#dune part 2#dune part two#feyd rautha#feyd rautha harkonnen
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b r e a k u p s o n g s
Includes : Matteo Riddle, Tom Riddle, Draco Malfoy, Lorenzo Berkshire, Theodore Nott
Genre : Angst
Warnings : No use of Y/N, mention of break ups, toxic situations
A/N : It feels fairly obvious how sloppy I got toward the end of this but oh well. Let me know if you would like a part two!
Matteo Riddle :
“We go ‘round again
We jump back in bed
That’s what you do when you love somebody
These bad omens
I look right through them
That’s what you do when you love somebody”
A knock jolted her from her sleep. She knew instantly who was at her door. She knew why he was there. She knew she shouldn’t get up, she should go back to sleep. She knew nothing would come from her giving her precious time to him. She also knew she would never be able to sleep without knowing what he wanted to say, even if it broke her tattered heart for the millionth time.
And so, she arose from her bed and padded towards her door. She stood in front of it. Maybe he left. No, he knew her better than that. He knew she could never resist him. And so he knocked again. She opened the door less than a second after.
Matteo Riddle stood outside the threshold, fist raised as though he was going to knock again. They stood staring at each other for what felt like eons, neither daring to speak in fear that it would break whatever trance was keeping her from turning him away.
Their relationship started badly, and it ended badly. They were doomed from the start, cursed into an endless cycle of breaking up and making up. They were toxic, a poison meant to kill a person inside out.
She got tired of the silence, and all she could say was, “what do you want, Matteo?” She saw the surprise in his eyes; he didn’t expect her to be so blunt. But she had to be blunt. She had to keep a barrier between them to keep herself safe from his persuasions.
“Can I come in?” his question made her shake her head.
“Matteo, we can’t keep doing this. We can’t keep breaking up. And you can’t keep coming here.”
A flash of hurt flashed across Matteo’s eyes, “what do you mean, baby? I love you. I’ll change, I promise I’ll do better.”
“No, Matteo. That’s what you say each time and each time I believe you. You’re not ready for a healthy relationship, and that’s fine, but don’t drag me into it. Don’t keep leading me on and giving me hope when you don’t deserve it,” she started tearing up while she spoke, Matteo trying to cut her off.
“That’s not true-
“It is! I can’t keep being led on by you, no matter how much I love you. Let me move on. You should too.” She shut the door on him, simultaneously shutting down any hope the boy might have had of rectifying their relationship from the grave.
Tom Riddle :
“But you have more pieces of me
than the desert has sand
And I have less pieces of you
than I can hold in my hand”
Everybody warned her against dating him. They told her he loved no one but himself, that he would break her and leave her in the dust, and yet, she didn’t listen. She threw herself into the belief that he wasn’t like they said, that she could “fix” him. She wanted to believe he could change, that he could love her.
“Did you think this would last?” he had asked. “I don’t love you, I never had,” he had said. And even with his confirmation, she still held hope.
She still smiled at him when he walked by in the halls, she still sat next to him during breakfast, lunch, dinner. And he still walked by as though she were merely a ghost, still refused to acknowledge her presence when she sat with him.
Her friends constantly told her to face reality, told her what was honest. But, she still told herself what she wanted to hear, even though no one else would.
Their love was misaligned. She wanted him, he wanted nothing to do with her. She loved him, he loved that she hurt for him. She was a passing thought to him, whilst he was every thought of hers.
No matter how she pleaded and begged him, he would always shatter her heart into grains of sand.
Draco Malfoy :
“We fit perfectly like milk and honey
But some things don’t mix like
young love and old money”
“I can’t see you anymore,” those five words shattered her. She saw the castles she'd built with Draco crumbling to her feet, the rubble bruising her in the process.
"Why?" she questioned. She couldn't understand why he, the love of her life, was ending their relationship so abruptly. Everything was going well, they were both happy, so, again, she asked "why?"
"Because," he paused, and she watched as tears pooled in his grey eyes. "Because we can't be together."
"Says who?" she questioned. "Is this because of your parents? Are they making you do this?"
"Yes!" He blurted. He seemed relieved to tell the truth, but the relief was short lived.
"So, you're breaking up with me because your parents ask you to. Because you're not manly enough to stand up to them." Her breaths were coming out short, and she found herself digging her nails into her hands. Draco didn't react, he only stared, watching as she unraveled in front of him. "You talk of Potter, of him being a coward, but you lie to yourself. You're the coward, Dray! At least Harry stands up for the people he loves." Still he said nothing, the only sign of acknowledgement were the tears falling from his eyes. "You want to break up with me? Fine. But don't come crawling back once you realize how big of a mistake you're making."
Lorenzo Berkshire :
"We can't be friends
But I'd like to just pretend
You cling to your papers and pens
Wait until you like me again"
"How was your day?" The question made the girl tear her head away from her Herbology homework and turn towards none other than Lorenzo Berkshire, the boy who broke her heart. She was confused as to why he was sitting here, in the library, with her, when only two weeks ago he was telling her they wanted different things and couldn't be together.
"It was good," she said hesitantly. An uncomfortable silence fell over the two.
"Mine was great. I was walking by the lake and thought I saw a mer-"
"What are you doing, Enzo?" She cut him off.
She watched as his face fell, and said, "what do you mean?"
"I mean, what are you doing? You broke up with me two weeks ago and now you are acting as though nothing happened."
Lorenzo struggled to find words, his excuses flying out the window. He couldn't find the right thing to say, but he couldn't tell the truth. "I just thought we could be friends. I thought that-"
The sound of her book slamming shut shocked him into silence. "You can't do this to me, it's cruel. You know we cannot be friends. You broke my heart, Enzo. Why would you ever think I wanted to be friends with you?"
He knew she was right, which is why he let her walk out of the school's library.
Theodore Nott :
"I'm gonna kiss someone else
Say 'it's not about you'
Pretend I don't care, my arms aren't around you
It hurts just a little, that I won't mention
The things I would do just to get your attention"
Pansy watched as her friend danced with some random Ravenclaw boy, her knowing the only reason her friend was even giving him the light of day.
The girl smiled her fake smiles, and pretended as though she was having the time of her life. When, in reality, she was trying to catch the attention of a certain Slytherin. She saw Theodore Nott leaning against a wall out of the corner of her eye. His indifference only made her grind against the Ravenclaw harder. All she wanted was to catch his eye. She wanted him to care.
She turned her head, pressing her lips onto her dance partner's. They kissed for a while, breaking apart for a breath. Her eyes moved themselves to the boy who holds her heart, and her heart broke in his hands as she watched him talk up some Gryffindor girl.
Pansy saw her friend's whole interaction, and rushed to save her. They left the party together, her friend balling next to her. They made it to their dorm, the broken girl falling to the floor in tears. "It's alright," Pansy cooed, "it will be okay."
"No, it's not okay," the girl sobbed. "I just want him to notice. I want him to... I want him to hurt the way I hurt."
Pansy felt bad for her friend, for she knew her best friend would never get the attention of the cold Theodore Nott.
#matteo riddle x reader#tom riddle x reader#draco malfoy x reader#lorenzo berkshire x reader#theodore nott x reader#harry hook x reader#harry potter headcanon#harry potter imagine#slytherin boys#slytherin imagine
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I’ve been rewatching The Ghost and Molly McGee and have concluded watching season 1. These are my thoughts and observations:
-I love how Scratch slowly warms up to Molly across the season and it is easier to catch when you watch the episodes in order. From going to a complete jerk, to valuing her friendship, to caring about how she views him, to not wanting to lose her.
-I also love how this show’s art style is like a storybook come to life in every shot.
-It makes even more sense as to why Scratch haunts Adia’s old home. Todd’s soul gravitated to the one place in Brighton that held happy memories for him, where life had yet to turn him into an anxious, fearful adult. It was a safe space for him, and he was mad when a family managed to move in and invade it. Especially Molly specifically moving into his personal room/the safest spot in the house for him.
-Molly and Scratch are BOTH horrible liars. It’s funny how similar they are in that detail, and it’s even funnier if they call each other out on it.
-Scratch is an absolute asshole to a lot of people and enjoys seeing them suffer during this season, but I think that partly stems from a ‘I was/am miserable so I like seeing others suffer.’
-I’d say Molly’s worst episode is the Snow Day episode (not listening to what everyone else wants to do) and Scratch’s worst episode is the Internship episode (taking advantage of an intern to do basic, unhelpful tasks and being a bigger asshole than usual).
-Molly nearly dies 4 times (the machine during ‘Friend off,’ was willing to catch hypothermia in order to have fun in the snow, was almost hit by the truck, and was nearly sliced in half by Jinx).
-Scratch, Mr. ‘So afraid of dying that I never lived a day’…. Gets trampled by animals, eats poison berries, gets hit by a tour bus, gets blended by the machine from ‘Friend off,’ and is sliced in half by Jinx among all the possible things that WOULD have killed him in this season if he hadn’t been a ghost at the time.
-In ‘Very Hungry Ghost’ Scratch doesn’t get to eat any of the food intended for the ghosts. Because he wasn’t fully a ghost, that feast was not meant to be eaten by him.
-I admit I have yet to catch Scratch’s ‘nervous habit of scratching his arm’ during these episodes.
-There’s a recurring theme of the adult characters regaining their passion for something they once loved in a few episodes.
-However I also appreciate showing very realistic struggles, like financial concerns and how you can’t magically restore your community and town to its glory days without some effort put into it.
-Libby’s mom can be seen as an early cameo during ‘The (Un)natural.’ Of course, she would be there for her daughter ^_^
-I’m not a huge fan of the Christmas episode (never rewatched it until now) but GOD do I love the pink sky they use against the Christmas decorations and snow.
-In Pete’s news article in ‘Twin Trouble’, it mentions that other city planners mysteriously disappeared. However, I don’t think the show EVER addressed that, because such a story fascinated me and made me wonder if there was more to Brighton than meets the eye.
-There was a wasted opportunity in not discussing who or WHAT The Chairman was. Was this mystery meant for season 3?
-Scratch mentioning that he is dead throughout the show hits differently now that we know its quite the opposite. So does seeing him having to do mandatory things for the ghost world that he technically shouldn’t NEED to be doing at that moment.
-So does his interactions with Geoff. Oh boy.
-Was Scratch specifically assigned to scare Brighton? What about the other ghosts from there, like the Tugbottom siblings? Howlin Harriet? Sonia? Why don’t we see them doing their job as much as Scratch has to?
-The sheer irony of Scratch believing that he didn’t have any fears in ‘Scaring is Caring’ only for fear to be the reason WHY he was a ghost to begin with. Once again, there’s a hell of a difference between ‘Scratch as a human being afraid of everything’ and ‘Scratch as a ghost being afraid of losing Molly and would do anything to save her.’
-No seriously, it gets to a point where Scratch risks his existence to save Molly in this season and in the next one-if he had been human, he would have been willing to die for her.
-‘All Night Plight’ is an episode I hadn’t rewatched until recently. And it hits a LOT differently this time around. Molly wanted to form a forever memory with Libby and Scratch by seeing that comet and she managed to win over Scratch who went above and beyond to ensure that was possible. While that memory is now somewhere hidden in Scratch’s mind as a living person, this episode likely was one of the events needed to push him into becoming someone who would take chances and embrace life upon coming back to life.
-Considering the number of times Molly almost dies, it would have been one thing if Scratch didn’t take it too well if he failed to save Molly. But if he learned that he was the one who had the chance to come back to life and not her? Yeah, that would have seriously wrecked his mental state.
-That moment when you realize that it was TWO souls hovering on the edge between life and death that changed everything in the Ghost World. Also I could be wrong, but I caught that Molly AND Scratch both have a brighter glow compared to most other ghosts in the Ghost World. Was this stealth foreshadowing, or just a coincidence?
-Scratch’s declaration that knowing Molly was the highlight of his afterlife. That moment when you realize Molly brought him joy after years of being miserable as both a ghost and as a human. This girl reached out to him and was able to get him to open up when no one else did. This girl who is showing him how to truly live once more. This girl who he openly declares to be his friend no matter what others will think.
-When I see Wraith!Molly hugging Libby and Scratch, I just wonder ‘WHY DOES MOLLY HAVE 3 ARMS?!’
-As good as this show is, a lot of folks who watch these Disney Channel shows are likely used to the more story-oriented shows. While the ‘slice of life’ style for TGAMM did pay off, the slow pace and length it took for the episodes to release likely worked against it and I could see why it didn’t attract more viewers at the time.
Stuff relating to Todd:
-Scratch possesses people a lot in this show, but especially in season 1. I’m reminded of someone who talked about the wraith theory on YouTube and he had this guess that Scratch might someday possess Todd and then realize something is different this time. I think that having Scratch use the possession trick so often was building up to that one moment in the last episode because it WAS a matter of time until he possessed Todd.
-As I said in a previous post, I caught Todd in the stands during The (Un)Natural, which was his ACTUAL debut episode. It was easy to miss the first time, but its a noticeable establishing character moment since he’s the only audience member who is visibly NOT happy despite that the team is winning.
-Molly stopping at Todd’s house during the song montage in the bandshell episode hits a lot differently now after the series finale. But then I laughed when she smacked him in the face with a flyer upon stopping by the house a second time in the same episode.
-We have confirmation that Scratch (as Todd) knew the mayor when they were kids and that is a tale I’m very curious about.
-I caught Todd in the audience during ‘Citizen McGee’ when the mayor bestows the honor of being mayor for a day to Molly. I admit a cynical side of me thinks that this is how he actually remembers her name in the last episode…. But at the same time he was so on auto-pilot during that time that he likely wouldn’t pay much attention or remember those events that well. (Plus, you can’t be expected to remember someone’s name once all the time). I refuse to believe that he remembered this event and that Scratch’s memories were what actually triggered the name.
-Todd’s actual lines are very limited (I don’t think he gets many in season 2 compared to this one). While Dana Snyder was voicing him, Snyder lowered his voice so much that it’s really hard to tell that he’s the one voicing Todd. I keep putting my ear to my computer to listen, but Todd barely sounds like Dana. I think they did this on purpose to avoid making it too obvious that Todd IS Scratch. (And that’s probably why he doesn’t talk as much in season 2…. Until the last episode of course).
-The Internship seems to double as foreshadowing, and not just because Todd appears or that his ‘junk’ held some very crucial clues. Molly believes that the pawnshop is where happy memories go to die while Weird Larry assures her that it’s where memories can be reborn into something new. So… is the pawnshop a metaphor for Scratch’s own depression causing his ‘death’ and how he’ll be resurrected into a happier person?
#the ghost and molly mcgee#the ghost and molly mcgee spoilers#i'll need a break before i rewatch all of season 2#molly mcgee#scratch the ghost#todd mortenson
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Writing request: Since the hexsqad have never been exposed to any human sicknesses before, and therefore have no immunity against any of them, I think it would be funny to see at least one of them get sick the first time anyone sneezes near them. It’d also be fun to see how the biology of a witch handles a human sickness.
“Mmmmmmmmmmmmmyaaaayyyyyy, you’re here!!!” Willow grabbed for Hunter’s hand as he passed by the couch. “Your hair is getting so looooong, Amity can braid it and we can match!”
Luz batted Willow’s hands away. “Ah, ah, no. You are sick. No touchy, you’ll get him sick, too.”
“I’ve never had a sick day in my life,” Hunter scoffed. He kept Luz between himself and Willow, though, peering over her shoulder at the sick witch on the couch. “What’s wrong with her?”
“As far as I can tell? A cold.”
“You mean a mold?”
“Nope. Here in the human realm, we have colds. They’re minor, just a lot of coughing and sneezing, but Willow’s gone down bad. Probably because she’s never had one before. The rest of you should probably steer clear of her.”
“I can help. Like I said, I don’t get sick.”
“I’m not going to risk it. I didn’t have a cold, which means Willow caught it from only a few seconds of contact. Now scr—”
Willow let out an explosive sneeze, and droplets splattered Luz.
Luz jumped back, right onto Hunter’s toes. “Ew!”
“Ow!” Hunter skipped backwards, yanking his feet out from under Luz’s heels. “Is it dangerous? Is that why you’re so keen to avoid it?”
“No, but it’s a pain, and it’s still gross.” Luz squinted at him. “Although I guess someone who licked my hand wouldn’t really think so.”
“I built up my immune system and my resistance to poisons by licking things I shouldn’t,” Hunter responded serenely, “I’ll be fine.”
Xxx
Gus cannoned into Luz, grabbing her arm. “Luuuuuuzzzzzzz, I think Hunter’s dead!”
“What?! What do you mean, Gus?!”
“He was still asleep when I woke up! It’s, like, eight o clock!”
“That’s a totally normal time to wake up, Gus.”
“When was the last time you got up and Hunter wasn’t already awake?”
“Fair enough. Stay up here, I’ll check in on him.”
Luz traipsed down the stairs to the basement and shook Hunter’s shoulder. “Hey? You okay?”
A raspy snore that broke off into a cough was his response.
Luz shook him again. “Hunter!”
“Wha?” he grumbled, swatting her hand, “Go ‘way.” He sneezed. “Lemme alone.”
“Uh-oh. So much for never getting sick, huh?”
“’m not sick. I’m just—” another explosive sneeze. “…tired.”
“Uh-huh. You stay down here, buddy, I’ll get you a waterbottle and a box of tissues.”
Luz traipsed back up the stairs. “He’s down for the count. Alrighty, let’s get this contained! I’m moving Willow to the basement, and you and Amity are not to go down there.”
Amity looked poked her head into the living room. “Is that a good idea? Having a sick Willow and Hunter in the same area? Willow tried to kiss my face with her germy lips last night, what if they team up on us?”
“Ah, I don’t think it’ll be too bad. Hunter’s sleepy sick, Willow would have a hard time rousing him to turn on us. But maybe you could create an abomination to keep an eye on them? Like you did for me when I had the mold!”
“Yeah. Yeah, I can do that.”
“Thanks, Amity. And I’m sure Flapjack and Clover will help us, too. Okay, you and Gus go outside, I’m going to get Willow into quarantine.”
Luz thumped up the stairs. Willow was in the bathroom, making a bunch of succulents on the windowsill grow. “Heeeeyyyy, Willow.”
“Luz!” Willow exclaimed in delight, “You’re here!”
“Haha, yep, I sure am! Hey, do you want to go downstairs? To the basement? And stay down there?”
“Mmmmmmm…”
“C’mon,” Luz coaxed, “You can, uhhhhh look for old school yearbooks and laugh at everyone’s horrible school pictures! Hunter’s down there, it’ll be like a little party!”
“Haha, Hunter at a party. He’d look funny in one of those little hats.”
“Yeaaaah, he probably would. Come on.” Luz slowly backed out of the bathroom, beckoning to Willow. To her relief, Willow followed. “Theeeere we go. Good Willow. That’s it.”
Luz led her down to the basement, where she immediately shook Hunter. “Hey! Sun’s up, time to start photosynthesizing, sleepy!”
He grumbled something unintelligible, then wiggled around in his sleeping bag until his feet were sticking out of the head of it and his face was down at the bottom, where Willow couldn’t reach him. Willow, for her part, watched the whole process in awe.
“He’s going to turn into a butterfly,” she whispered.
“No—okay, hey, you’re going to suffocate in there.” Luz unzipped the sleeping bag, exposing Hunter’s face to the air. He grabbed the flap of the sleeping bag, yanking it back over himself, and Luz left it. As long as there was still a way for air to get in. She glanced around to see Willow already halfway up the stairs, and she ran up, ducking around Willow to bar her way. “No! You need to stay down here!”
“Awwwwwwwww…”
“Iiiiiiiiiiiiuuuuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhhhhhh I need you to help me take care of Hunter, Willow, he’s not feeling good.”
Willow sniffed and coughed. “Aww. Poor Hunter.”
“Amity’s going to send down an abomination to help, just make sure he drinks lots of water. Uh—don’t make him, though, just tell him to do it a lot, okay?”
“Okayyyyyyy. Before or after he turns into a butterfly?”
“Uhhhhhhhhhhhh… before? You’re going to do great, just make sure he and you stay down here, okay, byeeeeeeeee!”
Luz raced up the stairs, washing her hands and opening the door. “Okay. We should be good.”
Amity created an abomination, and it took two waterbottles and a box of tissues down into the basement.
“Dooooo abominations get sick?”
“I don’t think so?”
The abomination came back up, walking towards the trashcan. Its face seized up, twitching, and Amity approached it. “Whoa, they’ve never done this before, I don’t kno—”
The abomination’s face exploded outwards all over Amity.
“Did it just sneeze?!” Luz yelped.
“I think it just sneezed! This is ridicu—oh, Luz. Oh, Luz, no. No, if it got sick from Willow and Gus, that means—that means—”
“You’re not sick yet,” Luz pleaded, “It could have been—you’re not sick yet!”
Amity gently cupped Luz’s face in her hands. “Batata. You know what has to be done. I have to go down there. I have to quarantine.”
“No, Amity, if you’re not sick now, you will be for sure if you’re near them!”
“And if I’m sick now, I’ll get Gus sick. Or you.” Amity smoothed back a lock of Luz’s hair. “I have to do this. For Gus. I’ll live. Just… make sure there’s plenty of tissues and water?”
“Okay. Okay, I’ll make sure.” Luz got another waterbottle for Amity and walked her to the basement stairs. Willow’s giggle, and Hunter’s congested snores floated up, and Amity gulped. She gave Luz’s hand a squeeze, then squared her shoulders and marched down.
“So brave,” Gus sniffed from the kitchen, “So noble.”
“Gus?!”
“Don’t worry, I wasn’t near the exploding abomination.”
Luz washed her hands again, and made her way to the fridge. “I’m going to try to make some soup. Maybe some tea.”
“Can I help?”
Luz hissed in, thinking about the mustard ravioli that had been his last attempt at cooking. “How about you make the tea? But wait a bit.”
“Okay!”
Luz chopped vegetables and simmered them in broth on the stove, occasionally rolling a full waterbottle down to the basement. It was always gone from the foot of the stairs by the time she looked again.
At least they’re hydrating.
I hope so, anyway, and it isn’t just Willow pouring them on Amity and Hunter’s feet so that they can grow.
Luz turned the stove off and ladled the soup into three bowls. “I’m going in.”
Gus snapped a salute. “Godspeed, good Luz,” he said gravely, “If you don’t come out, I will remember you.”
Luz gulped, heading down the stairs. Willow met her at the base. “Hey, Luz,” she mumbled through a stuffed nose, “Feeling pretty bad.”
Luz handed her a bowl. “At least you’re not loopy anymore?”
“Uuuuugh…”
Hunter was still passed out in his sleeping bag, snoring and occasionally coughing. “Wow. I’m starting to wonder if he just thinks he’s never been sick because he sleeps through the whole thing.” Luz shook his shoulder. “Heeeeey, Hunter. You need to eat something.”
He blearily sat up, his hair flat against one side of his head and then sticking up in a horrendous cowlick. He accepted the bowl, drained it in about three seconds flat, scarfed down the vegetables, then flopped back down, pulling the sleeping bag over his head.
“And where’s…”
Amity was nowhere to be seen. The boxes in the basement had been carefully arranged in alphabetical order, and boxes with the same label were stacked from largest to smallest.
Amity’s head poked out from a pile of stuff that hadn’t been in a box. “Hi.”
Luz wandered towards her as Hunter started to snore again. “Did you do all this?”
“Yep,” Amity coughed, “It was messy down here. I fixed it. Trying to figure out how to organize all of this other stuff, though. I mean!” she tried stacking a statue of a dog on top of a beach ball, and it slid off. “What am I supposed to do?!”
Luz handed her a bowl. “Take a break, sweet potato. Is everyone staying hydrated?”
“Oh, yeah,” Willow piped up, “Amity is enforcing a rigorous hydration schedule.” She blew her nose and tossed the tissue towards a small trashcan.
It was incinerated by a blast of purple flame before it even hit the downward part of its arc. Amity narrowed her eyes at the space where the offending tissue had been. “No more sickness,” she growled, then sneezed. “AUGH!”
Luz nudged her shoulder. “It’s okay to be sick, Amity. I’ll come back down in a bit, okay?”
She trudged back up the stairs, collecting Hunter’s bowl on the way up. “Whoof.”
“They okay down there?”
“I think Willow’s pulled through the worst of it, but she’ll be stuffed up for a while. Hunter’s still asleep. And I think if we unleased a sick Amity on the Collector, she’d have him doing her bidding before the week was out.”
Gus hissed in, making a face. “Uh, Luz?” He pointed behind her. “Hunter’s up.”
Luz turned around to see Hunter shuffling towards her. “Ohhhh no you don’t. Go back down there, mister.”
“I’m fine, Luz,” he mumbled, “I told you, I’m just ti—I’m just ti—I’m ti—choo!”
He sneezed, and Luz yelped. “Hunter, NO!”
Gus gasped behind her. “It’s too late, Luz. I’ve been hit! I’m down!”
Hunter sniffed. “…Okay. I might, maybe be just a little bit sick. Sorry, Gus.”
Luz sighed. “Guess there’s no point in keeping you guys quarantined anymore.”
Gus shuffled down the stairs. “Oh, misery.” His eyes were already starting to glaze over, and he flopped on the couch with a sigh. “Just leave me. Bring me… some delicious soup.”
“I will. Don’t die.”
“No promises.”
“Augustus is a drama queen when he’s sick,” Willow informed her, “Be prepared for the performance of a lifetime.”
Luz shook her head, moving the box of tissues closer to Gus. “Can’t wait.”
#this request is super funny because everyone in my family just went down sick with the flu EXCEPT me#toh#the owl house#toh fanfiction#writing requests#asks#luz noceda#toh hunter#willow park#gus porter#amity blight#sickfic
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The World’s Most Useless Superpower
#17.2 (part 1) (part 2)
The agent passes the civilian an earpiece. She’s still in the stark black suit, but she’s finally taken the glasses off. Her eyes are a striking earthy brown, and he’s finding that it takes a lot of effort to avoid staring into them in awe.
“We’ll point you in the right direction,” she tells him sharply as he takes it from her. The superhero is standing next to her silently, staring at a computer screen at the desk. “Don’t worry, you’re in our domain. You’re completely safe from them.”
Them. The villain, sitting just in the other room – an interrogation room, probably one they’ve been seeing pretty regularly in recent times. The civilian can’t imagine making much of an impression on them, but he’s not here to impress. He’s here to get a fuck ton of cash.
He glances at them through the one-way mirror, watching them tug heartlessly at the handcuffs keeping them at the table as the agent carries on.
“We just need them to tell us who they work with and where we can find them.” She idly follows his gaze to the opposite room. “Anything else would be a bonus.”
He nods as he slips the ear piece into place. “It shouldn’t take long, I hope. People tend to go really downhill really fast.”
“That’s what we’re betting on. You can go in when you’re ready.”
The civilian heaves a deep breath to steel his nerves. “Good luck,” the superhero says rather suddenly, and the civilian gives the man a wonky, unsure smile in response before letting himself out of the observation room and into the fire.
The villain barely moves as he pushes the door open. They barely grace him with a moment's long glance, tsking in disappointment before their gaze drops back to their restraints. “They’re just letting anyone into the agency now, aren’t they?”
“Oh, I’m– I’m not a hero. They thought you might be up to talking to someone more normal,” he lies quickly, and from the way they quirk an eyebrow he can tell they don’t believe him.
“Sure. Let's talk, normal guy.”
“How’d you get caught?”
The villain tuts, turning to the one-way mirror. “You didn’t tell him?” they ask their reflection. “Botched bank robbery. Wasn’t expecting the hero that came. Caught us a little off guard.”
“That sucks. You should get better at robbing banks.”
They huff something of a laugh. “I’ll have to practise before I do it next time. Know any banks around here with a good bit of money in them?”
“Oh, I work minimum wage. I wouldn’t know,” he counters with a sigh.
“Sounds like you need to rob banks more than me. You can come along next time.” The villain smiles brightly, though the action is followed by a slight frown. The civilian knows exactly what that face means – he’s seen it in every conversation partner he’s had since the beginning of time.
“Keep at it. You’re doing great,” the agent pipes up, and he flinches. He forgot she was there.
“Ah, they’re talking to you, aren’t they?” they ask, bringing a hand as high as the cuffs will let them to point to their ear. “No amount of people talking in your ear will stop you from being bad at interrogating. You haven’t even tried to get anything out of me yet.”
Their hand falls back to the table a little heavily, but the civilian doesn’t say anything. “Too bad I have to interrogate you then, isn’t it?”
The villain is sporting a deep frown now, seemingly more annoyed than anything. “I’m kind of lightheaded,” they comment. “Can we do this another time?”
“Keep going,” the agent urges.
The villain leans their forehead against their hands with a groan. “I think the nasty prisoner food here has finally given me food poisoning. I feel kind of…”
“Drunk?” the civilian finishes with an innocent smile, and the villain’s expression turns sour. They look back up at him, squinting slightly against the harsh overhead lights.
“What’d you do to me?” they demand, but the coldness of their tone is lost to the slight slur in their words.
“Nothing, really. Just making a guess.”
The villain points at them accusingly, and the action makes their sway in their seat slightly. “Bullshit,” they say, and the single word almost comes out in one sloppy syllable. “You… ugh…”
Their hands return to their forehead supportively. “You strike me as a depressed drunk,” the civilian continues. “Something bothering you?”
“Here is bothering me,” they say a little too quickly, and the words jumble together. “[Supervillain] would be mad if he found out I was here.”
“Keep them going,” the agent says carefully.
“Why?” he prompts, and they scoff tiredly. “Are you important to him?”
“He couldn’t live without me.” They go to spread their arms, but the cuffs stop them halfway. They huff in genuine disappointment, dropping their hands back to the table with a dull thud. “He doesn’t appreciate how much I do for him. Maybe my being here will finally make him see.”
“Couldn’t anyone else do what you do?”
The villain lets out a sharp “ha!” as if the mere notion is an insult. “They wish they could replace me. One of the other guys tried, fucking… V, I think it was. She thought she could take my place but she can’t do anything for [Supervillain]. She just follows him around like a lost puppy.” They lean back in their chair in a slump, tutting. “Pathetic.”
“V…?”
“Another villain we have on our watchlist,” the agent interjects. “This is good. Keep at it.”
“What is–”
“I’m a god compared to them,” the villain continues without thought. “At least you lot appreciate that I’m actually something worth catching. It’s nice to be seen, even if it’s by the heroes.”
“Wh–”
“Well, only the one hero really. They’re kind of hot, aren’t they? [Hero]?”
“Oh my god, they are a talker. This is so good,” the agent exclaims a little unprofessionally.
The civilian needs to intervene. “Uh, I–”
“They are, right? I know I shouldn’t but boy, what I wouldn’t give for a night with them.” They laugh shortly, the sound a little more violent than a sober person would make. “They’re pretty fierce in the streets. I wonder if they hate me enough for the sheets.”
How the villain is still talking this openly is beyond the civilian, even under his influence. He’s blushing, and he’s not even part of this. Their eyes are lidded by now, their fingers fiddling tiredly with the metal on their wrists, their face flushed – though whether that’s the drunkenness or the conversation he can’t say.
“Okay, that’s definitely something we can use against them,” the agent continues, clearing her throat to retain her steady voice. “Let’s get something about their friends out of them.”
Gladly. “[Villain], are y–”
“Don’t get me wrong, I don’t like them. They’re an ass. But that makes them kind of…”
“[Villain]–”
“… hot, I guess? It’s not often you see someone so passionate. The blood stained look suits them and all.”
The villain sighs dreamily and he sees an opportunity. “[Villain], who’re you working with?”
“Oh, a bunch of dicks.” They laugh at their own joke despite the fact it’s not really a joke. The civilian can see an opening for blackmail, no matter how crude it might seem to the moral police watching them. “Why?”
“Every name you give me I can guarantee you five minutes with [Hero].”
“We never–” the agent starts, but she doesn’t get the chance to finish before the villain is listing people off as fast as their drunken daze will allow them. Within a minute the agency has the names of every villain in the network and the villain has two hours promised with the hero that they won’t remember getting by morning.
Taglist: @skys-fantasy
#writing#creative writing#writing community#writers on tumblr#writblr#heroes and villains#home for easter!! oh my god the psychological damage#thank you for asking! i know i dont reply much to people asking for part 2s but it makes my day that someone liked it that much :)#the worlds most useless superpower#also. completely forgot its april fools. uh. have this completely normal story instead!!
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Worse at Night: Cynonari Sickfic
Tighnari gets poisoned.
(Reposted from my AO3)
Work under the cut:
It’s not often Tighnari comes out into Sumeru city. Preferring the tranquil air of Avidya forest to the bustling atmosphere, his visits to the city are few and far in between.
But there are exceptions to be made, when he folds his ears and walks through the streets slightly overstimulated. It’s not bad once in a while, he muses. Though by the end of the day, his opinion will certainly have changed.
“Hey, Tighnari! Over here!”
Aether and Paimon approach him swiftly once their gazes meet, beckoning him over to Puspa Cafe’s entrance. Tighnari raises a hand as a greeting, following them with a look of relief.
They secure a table for three, choosing a quiet corner away from any loud groups. The traveller had always been considerate of Tighnari’s sensitivity to noise, which he’s often grateful for. It’s not often he gets to truly enjoy being in the city.
“We could share a shrimp curry between us,” Aether suggests, pointing to the large portions shown on the menu. “It shouldn’t be too heavy on the spices.”
Tighnari gives him a thankful smile. “I appreciate the consideration, but I’ve had seafood for the past week. I’m in the mood for some meat.” His ears twitch at the mere thought.
Aether flips through the menu a little more, deciding on his own main course before choosing some side dishes. “I can get some deep-fried sweet potatoes and chicken rice to share.”
“Sounds good. I’ll pay for the drinks then.”
They don’t wait long before the food arrives, piping hot and appetising. Tighnari had ordered some sfiha for himself, while Aether had ended up sharing his curry with Paimon. It’s not long before Paimon begins eyeing up the other portions, long finished her own.
“What’s that, Tighnari? Is it good?” Paimon asks, flying over to take a peek at his food.
Aether gives her a look, and Paimon huffs. Tighnari’s meal had piqued both her appetite and curiosity.
“It’s minced lamb on flatbread.” Tighnari explains, taking a large bite out of one. “It’s very good. Why don’t you try it next time?”
He shivers slightly, noticing the drop in temperature since their arrival. Despite wearing lighter clothing than him, Aether seems unaffected. It must be a byproduct of exploring, he muses.
“Come on, just one bite!” Paimon begins to bargain with Tighnari, pleading for a mouthful of his food. Aether bites back a sigh as he pulls her back, shoving a sweet potato wedge in her mouth.
Tighnari lets out a chuckle, feeling another shiver coming on. He almost jolts, the unnerving chill sweeping against his skin.
Perhaps he’s coming down with something. He slips his jacket back onto himself, taking in the heat between the fabric.
“Sorry,” Aether chuckles, sipping on the date juice Tighnari had ordered for them. “You might want to eat a little faster, though.”
Tighnari agrees, bringing up another piece of sfiha to his mouth.
Before he can take a bite, a violent shudder seizes him. And at the same time, a piercing ache in his gut.
He freezes, the flatbread slipping from his grasp. The pain is enough to bring intense nausea with it, and he immediately knows he’s not going to make it anywhere.
Tighnari barely manages to turn to the side before he vomits, the sickness too sudden for him to even gag. Uneven splatters ring in his ears, only just drowned out by the stabbing pain in his lower stomach.
He can hear Aether calling out his name, and Paimon yelping beside them. He can only grip his stomach through the agonizing pain, bringing up another surge of vomit on top of the spreading puddle.
“What’s wrong?” Aether is quick by his side, moving their bags away from the mess and laying a hand on his back. “Here, get it up. Don’t worry.”
There’s something wrong, no doubt. Tighnari knows it’s nothing like a stomach bug or food not sitting well. He barely has time to process the next wave before he’s puking, splattering the front of his clothes. He looks down at his hands, and finds them trembling.
He’s shuddering against Aether’s hand. He seems to notice it too, pressing a hand onto his forehead. “No fever,” he hears him say, concern-filled.
The remnants of Tighnari’s lunch are completely out of his system, and his breakfast follows in quick succession. But the nausea doesn’t abate after emptying his stomach. He drools uncontrollably with each dry-heave, bringing up the occasional stream of stomach acid.
“Tighnari, can you hear me?” Aether is tapping his shoulder with more force, bringing him back from the haze of illness. He can only give him a garbled whimper, throat thick with various liquids.
Each time he opens his mouth to talk, the pain streaking through his abdomen only worsens. Tighnari cries out with each spike, the pressure of his own hand against his gut too much to bear.
“We’re taking you to Bimarstan.”
“Please,” Tighnari murmurs, tears trailing down his face.
Aether is stern, hoisting him up with surprising strength. He throws a handful of mora onto the table and mutters an apology before exiting the cafe, slinging Tighnari over his shoulder.
Though the pain is blinding, Tighnari’s mind is clear enough to filter out the causes. The sudden onset of symptoms rule out many viral sicknesses, leaving him with a terrifying possibility.
Poisoning.
It’s the only explanation he can come up with. The intense urge to throw up is nothing like he’s ever experienced, not even after he’d been too generous on the mushroom sampling portions. Whatever it is, it had to be done with purpose.
“Someone—someone’s poisoned me,” Tighnari chokes out, ears flattening against his head. The light against his eyes suddenly hurts, burning into his eye sockets. He clenches his eyes shut, bringing up a hand to block out all light.
“You think they’ve poisoned you,” Aether repeats, holding him steady as they approach the entrance of Bimarstan. “We’re almost there. Just keep the strength in your legs, okay?”
A nurse immediately recognizes the two of them, ushering them both to an indoor room. While Tighnari appreciates the privacy, he barely makes it to the mattress before all strength leaves him. Aether quickly turns him to his side as he gags.
“What are the symptoms?” The staff asks, grabbing a wooden basin and some medium-sized towels. She carefully wipes down Tighnari’s skin, examining his eyes and nails.
Aether moves beside Tighnari, helping him lean over the basin as he hacks up bile. “He’s been vomiting non-stop and shivering,” he explains, brushing away the hair and tears around his face.
“It’s— ngh— poison,” Tighnari grips the sheets with one hand, the uncontrollable shaking turning closer to convulsions. “It may be something of the bloodgrass variant.” He presses the back of his hand to his eyes, the pain in his head growing worse with each second.
“We’ll run some tests just in case.” The nurse hastily notes down something in her memo, wincing as a painful retch comes out of Tighnari’s throat. “There should be a toxicologist on duty right now.”
If Tighnari’s suspicions are correct, vomiting the poison would not be enough. The absorption into the bloodstream would occur quickly, leaving various organs in the body vulnerable. He’s never encountered a case himself, but the treatment had been antidote infusions and pain reduction. He doesn’t recall the survival rate.
A completely different chill runs down his spine. He could die from this. He could die, not even knowing who did this to him.
“Aether,” Tighnari reaches out, feeling the traveller’s hand around his own. “Get Cyno. Just—just in case.”
In case he doesn’t make it through the night.
“We’ll find him as quick as we can,” Aether assures him, the worry apparent in his voice.
They leave without saying further, dashing out of the facility and heading back towards the inner city.
Tighnari is left alone again. He curls further into the blankets, feeling his body shudder against itself. Every wave of pain brings a cold grip of fear with it.
“We found high concentrations of sterinine in your blood.”
The toxicologist brings him his test results, confirming the potent poison inside his bloodstream. They’re quick to attach an intravenous infusion into his arm, the needle grazing him a few times as his muscles spasm.
Tighnari attempts to lay on his side, taking care not to disturb the needle inside him. He feels vulnerable, laid out on the bed to be treated. He vomits onto the towels near his pillow, no longer able to pull the basin towards him.
“For someone of your age and health, poisonings like this have a high survival rate.” They explain to him, setting down another empty basin and changing the soiled towels. “But due to the large dosage, the recovery process may be painful and long-lasting.”
“How are the pain levels?” The nurse asks him, prompting him to talk. He groans instead of answering, arms tightly wrapped around his middle.
Tighnari bites the inside of his cheek, preventing the scream that threatens to escape. “It’s bad,” he almost sobs. “Especially near the navel. I—I really can’t talk—”
“We’ve administered painkillers and they’ll take effect soon.” They reassure him, rubbing his back in comforting circles. It only makes another tear trickle down his cheek, reminding him that he’s truly alone. “The symptoms will become manageable once you make it through tonight.”
Tighnari isn’t sure if he’ll make it through the night.
He tastes blood as he pukes the water he’d been given. He knows it’s not coming from his scraped-up throat, from the way it’s beginning to turn brown. When he does see crimson in the basin, it’s from the burst capillaries in his nose. He’s a mess of excess fluids, sweat and tears sticking to his skin.
He closes his eyes, attempting to let his exhaustion win. He wakes up with bile gurgling up his throat.
And every single thing his body does to fight against it hurts. There’s a constant cramp stuck in his chest, exacerbated from his stomach wringing itself out. His head hurts, even after shutting out every trace of light. His joints and muscles ache from the constant signals frying his nerves.
The sky darkens around him, and he notices the near-empty bag of fluids attached to his arm. He shakily reaches for the bell within reach, alerting the staff of his finished infusion.
“I know it must hurt.” The nurse holds him down as he thrashes, administering the second dose of antidotes. “You’ll feel a little better once it kicks back in, all right?”
Tighnari becomes increasingly frustrated with the vague promises. He doesn’t want to feel a little better. He wants it all to stop right now.
He knows that if he were to sob and cry about his pain, one of the nurses would hold his hand and comfort him. He knows they’re taking care of him to the best of their capabilities. But the thorough knowledge of medical care makes nothing better for him, instead isolating him further.
The hospital is cold, despite the blankets layered onto him. The air is different from the forest, and the silence carries a different weight. He wants nothing more than a shred of familiarity.
Just as Tighnari closes his eyes, he hears multiple footsteps heading towards him from outside. Though he can’t hear the ensuing conversations, he knows the voices well enough. His eyes widen, amidst the fatigue that chokes him.
“Tighnari.”
Cyno marches ahead of Aether, not sparing a moment before throwing the door open. He’s disheveled, without his signature headpiece and a jacket draped over his shoulders. One look at him fills Tighnari’s eyes with tears.
The traveller and Paimon follow close by, eyes widening at the extent of Tighnari’s pallor. If he had been pale earlier, he’s now nothing short of blanched.
Tighnari stiffens, coughing up blood-tinted drool into his palm. He hastily wipes it on the towel before either of them can see.
Sensing Tighnari’s overattentiveness, Cyno steps in front of Tighnari with an extended arm. “Thank you for bringing me here. I can take it from here—rest assured he’s in good hands.”
Aether nods, knowing the closeness the two share. “Let me know if there’s anything I can help with.”
Cyno lets out an affirmative hum, giving minimal attention to the pleasantries before turning back to Tighnari. He places a hand in his hair, and Tighnari immediately knows its warmth. It’s miles different from the methodical touches he’d been subject to.
“No one’s here except us. You can breathe easy.”
Cyno dips a cloth in cold water, wiping at the sweat on Tighnari’s forehead. It’s far from pleasant or clean, but Tighnari doesn’t mumble an apology for once. He instead leans into him, the lump in his throat rendering him unable to speak.
It’s not long before another episode of pain hits him full force. He’s surprised at how loud he yelps, gripping Cyno’s hand through the excruciating sensations. His body betrays him all at once, forcing up another wave of dark blood up his throat.
Tighnari sees Cyno’s eyes, brimming with barely-concealed anger. But the pained grimace he displays immediately softens them, and Cyno brings the basin closer to him. He spits the dark liquid gathering in his mouth.
“Cyno,” he manages out, no longer able to hold back the sobs. “It—it really hurts. I’ve been throwing up for hours.”
He’s immediately pulled into Cyno’s arms, hair brushed aside and tail curling around them both. Though Cyno’s worry shows, he doesn’t show any more fear than Tighnari does. For the first time, Tighnari feels comforted.
“It hurts everywhere when I seize up.” Tighnari talks through tears, drenching his own face and Cyno’s jacket. “I—I’m not going to die. But it feels too close to it.”
Cyno hums, his hands focused on making him comfortable. He gently rubs circles into Tighnari’s chest, moving to his stomach when it gurgles painfully. “You’ve endured well,” he presses his lips to Tighnari’s head, drawing the curtains to leave the room untouched by moonlight.
Tighnari closes his eyes, leaning against Cyno’s chest. It’s not easy to get the sleep he desperately needs—he throws up on Cyno on more than one occasion, waking up mid-choking to sharp slaps on his back. Though he mumbles an apology, Cyno only wipes his mouth and suggests he get the rest he needs.
It’s almost dawn when Tighnari sleeps for an hour, eyes pried open by yet another stab of pain in his gut. He’s paying the price of surviving a poisoning attempt, something completely unwarranted.
Tighnari lets out a frustrated scream, curling away from everything that touches his skin. “It won’t stop,” he sobs, digging his nails into his palm. “It just keeps happening over and over. I want it to stop hurting so fucking much.”
His words are shaky as he cries, angry tears trailing down his reddened cheeks. Cyno doesn’t touch him until he falls back into his arms, muffling his cries into his chest.
“I know. And I’m not going to leave until it stops.” Cyno continues to pat his back, slowing down until he matches his heartbeat. “You’re going to be all right.”
It comes out with such conviction that Tighnari genuinely believes it. He clings onto Cyno, choked sobs becoming sniffles. He realizes how badly he’d wanted the reassurance, however blind.
“I just don’t know why they did this,” Tighnari cries, this time not from the pain. “Why did they hurt me like this?”
It’s a question neither know the answer to. Cyno doesn’t intend to figure it out, nor does he need the answer. What matters is that he’ll soon have blood on his hands, under the name of justice and his own blinding anger.
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Whumptober 2023 - Day 14 - Querencia
This is the next chapter of Querencia, following Whumptober Day 1!
Taglist: @darthsutrich , @inky-whump , @painful-pooch , @pigeonwhumps (thank you for beta reading!), @bookworm2107
Previous | Next | Masterlist
No. 14: “Feed me poison, fill me ‘till I drown.” | Water Inhalation
Contains: dude whump, electrocution, water whump, Deaf whumpee, captivity, restraints, revenge, death mention, noncon drugging, needles, superpowers
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Quinn jolts awake in an unfamiliar room, still half-expecting to be in charge of steering an out-of-control vehicle. Instead, he finds himself in what looks like a warehouse, but definitely not the one they converted into their home. This one is dingy and in sore need of a good cleaning. The events of the evening come back to him in flashes - the park, the drive home…the spike strips in the road and his inability to avoid them or prevent the crash afterward.
This was planned, whatever it is. And now he’s alone, without his team, and he can only hope they’re all alright.
He doesn’t remain alone for long. The trio that enters the room looks vaguely familiar, but with his head still swirling from unconsciousness he can’t quite place them. Besides, his thoughts are more caught on the fact that none of them are wearing masks or anything else to conceal their identities. Kidnappers without masks generally don’t plan to allow their victims to leave alive.
“The great Electric Eagle himself,” the woman begins, strolling closer. “Right here in our grasp, isn’t it exciting, boys?”
The bigger man circles him where he sits. “Somehow he doesn’t seem quite as intimidating without the whole superhero getup.”
“That could also have to do with the handcuffs,” the second man laughs.
“True!”
“Where is the rest of my team?” Quinn asks, careful to keep his expression and voice steady. They normally wouldn’t seem very intimidating, but they’ve already proven themselves rather capable of causing trouble. At the moment, though, any fear in him is for his team, not himself.
“Oh, he’s British! Did you know he was British?” The woman puts a hand to her heart, looking at the other two. They shrug, unimpressed. “I do love me a British accent. But sorry to tell you, honey, it isn’t going to keep me from making you pay.”
“And…what, exactly, is it that I’m paying for?” He knows these three from somewhere, it’s driving him mad that he can’t place where.
“He doesn’t remember.” The bigger man crouches down and grabs a fistful of Quinn’s shirt, yanking him in close to his face. “What, we weren’t important enough for you to think about, once you’d ruined our lives and moved on with yours?”
“You got us arrested, that’s what. None of us even had records until you and your cutesy little team of superheroes came along and ruined it all. We lost all the money we’d gotten, lost our jobs, can’t get hired anywhere else, Greg’s wife left him…”
Oh. Now he remembers them. Criminals, of course, as he’d assumed, but more specifically a gang of three bank robbers that they’d worked together to stop. Which means that it shouldn’t be just him that they have a complaint against.
“Where…is…my team?”
The bigger man, Tommy Lewis, shoves him backwards so that he sprawls on the floor, hands trapped behind his back. “They’ll get their turns! But you’re the leader, so you get first go at paying up, how does that sound?”
He has no idea what they have in mind, but no doubt that it will be unpleasant. Maybe by the time they’re done with him, the others will have come up with some kind of escape plan and will be able to avoid having to go through whatever it is, themselves. If anyone is going to get hurt here, it should be him.
Greg Sanders, the other man, comes closer, and Quinn’s eyes immediately go to a syringe in his hand. “What’s that, then?”
“Sheila may have lost her job at the lab, but she didn’t lose all of the formulas she was working on in her spare time.” He smirks, waving the syringe a bit. “You all will get to try out a couple of different specialties of hers while you’re here!”
He comes at him with the syringe, and Quinn kicks out with his restrained feet, trying to knock it from his hands. If it’s just something she’s been working on at home, there’s probably a limited supply. He doesn’t know what could possibly be in it, but being poisoned isn’t high on his list of fun activities for himself or his team.
Greg dodges the kick, and before Quinn can try to roll further out of the way Tommy is on top of him, sitting on his legs and pinning his upper half to the floor. With his hands beneath him he can’t summon any lightning, and the man is too heavy to fight off without leverage. The needle sinks into his arm.
The three criminals step back and stare at him as he scrambles to at least sit upright. He takes it that something visible is supposed to happen, then. His heart is pounding in anticipation, waiting to start feeling excruciating pain or to grow an extra limb or whatever horrible, drastic thing they have planned.
Then lightning crackles in his palm, without his permission.
“Aha!” Sheila screeches. “It’s starting to work!”
Quinn swallows hard. If this is something that affects his powers, it could be much worse than he’d feared. As if in response to his thoughts, another bolt arcs from one hand to the other. The trio starts donning long rubber gloves.
“If my powers go out of control, you’re going to need a lot more than rubber gloves and soles to keep you safe.” He’s imagining the whole room filling with streaks of lightning, taking out the lights and the people and charring the walls and floor.
Meanwhile, electricity snakes up to his wrist and hits the handcuffs, and for the first time since he was just learning to use his power, Quinn actually feels the effects of it himself. He jolts and grunts in utter surprise as it buzzes through his skin. There’s a reason why he and Nari have to be careful to keep their abilities separate. Metal and electricity do not mix well.
Greg smirks. “We’re not really worried about it.”
Distracted by getting shocked, he doesn’t notice the hose in Sheila’s hand until a blast of cold water hits him in the chest. “Let’s speed this up a little bit, shall we?”
“This is a bad ide-” He gets a faceful of water before he can finish the sentence, leaving him sputtering.
“Oh, I think it’s the best idea we’ve had in a while! This is going to be fun.”
He tries to scoot himself backwards, away from the persistent stream of icy water, but they just follow, laughing at him, soaking his whole front. They haven’t managed to get his hearing aids yet, thankfully, but he imagines at this point it’s only a matter of time.
He’s trying to come up with some other way to dissuade them or a way out of this situation when his power activates again. This time it crawls all the way up his arm, hitting both metal and sopping wet fabric. From there it takes on a life of its own. Quinn’s body jerks backwards, his head slamming into the concrete block wall he’d moved up against, before uncontrollable shaking sends him to the floor. Everything burns like there’s fire inside his veins. He’s fairly certain he screams at some point, without meaning to. He knows for sure he bit his tongue, because his mouth is full of the bitter taste of blood when he can finally breathe and see straight again.
The trio is laughing at him some more. He can see that, though he can’t hear it, which means his hearing aids are fried. Fantastic. At least he doesn’t have to listen to their annoying voices anymore.
Before he’s fully caught his breath, it’s happening again. And again. And again. It seems to be getting worse the longer the drug is in his system, and of course the more they soak him down with the hose. Sometimes he screams, sometimes it gets trapped somewhere inside and feels like it’s ripping through his throat. He doesn’t bother trying to pick himself up after each round. He’s too exhausted, and everything hurts.
After a while, they must get bored with that method, because Tommy comes over and yanks him up off the ground with gloved hands. He’s saying something… “new game,” Quinn’s pretty sure is in there somewhere, but his lips are a bit of a blur.
He can’t walk, not with his ankles chained together, so he gets dragged across the room and deposited on his knees…in front of a bucket full of water. He can already see where this is going without needing to hear whatever taunting they’re doing.
Sure enough, a hand grabs onto his curls and shoves his head down into the water. Instinctively, he pushes against it, struggling to get up while holding onto what air he was able to gulp in.
He can’t let them kill him. The team needs him, he has to help them get out of here. They can’t go through this. Just the thought of it makes him sick to his stomach.
His head feels like it’s going to explode. A burst of bubbles escape his lips, relieving a little of the pressure, but now his lungs are aching instead. He needs to breathe, he needs to breathe…
He’s jerked up out of the water by his hair. Rivulets run down his face, over his eyes and into his open mouth as he gasps loudly for precious air. Greg and Sheila are across from him, big grins on their faces.
One last gasp - not nearly enough - and he’s back down again. This time, though, his power comes to life, shooting up through his body with a force that makes his back arch. His lungs spasm involuntarily, and then he’s choking, coughing, taking in more water, until mercifully the bucket tips over with his erratic movements and he hits the floor, water spilling across him as he continues to shake and cough.
He can see open air but he can’t breathe. Water rattles in his throat and chest. The lightning stops, but he still kicks and squirms, trying desperately to draw something in or expel something out, anything.
Someone flips him over onto his side and kicks him hard in the back, and he’s finally able to spew out the last of the water, coughing until his ribs ache and his throat is on fire.
He’s not even aware of anyone that’s around him until another needle pricks his arm. No, please, no more… They’re talking amongst themselves or maybe even to him, but he doesn’t know what their plans are anymore. If his power goes even more haywire, though, he’s not going to survive it. They’re going to kill him.
Minutes pass, though, and the only lightning that happens is small, more like the first few times. Enough to make him jolt, but not writhe. It seems to be calming down, much to his immense relief.
His ankles are released and someone pulls him to his feet. His legs feel leaden, but he stumbles along beside them as they lead him out the door and down a hall, eventually unlocking another door and shoving him inside.
Immediately he drops to sit on the ground, no strength left. It’s only then that he sees Liliana sitting there, staring at him wide-eyed and fearful. He forces himself to turn, and there are the others, too. Safe.
Everyone’s lips are moving, probably asking a million questions, but he’s too tired to try and comprehend. He just shakes his head. “Aids got fried.” He hates talking out loud when he doesn’t have them in, but signing isn’t exactly an option when his hands are still cuffed and Liliana still doesn’t know much sign, anyway.
Nari’s face is etched with concern, her eyes darting to his ears, then across his soaking wet body once more. “What did they do to you?” Her mouth moves, but she also signs it as best she can with one wrist cuffed to the wall. “We were so worried!”
Quinn’s eyes drift shut, and he shakes his head again. “I don’t…want to talk about it. Not yet.” He'll have to, eventually. He has to prepare them for what they might face.
They have to figure out a way out of here before that happens.
#whumptober2023#no.14#lyric#feed me poison fill me 'till i drown#water inhalation#original content#fic#electrocution tw#water torture tw#needles tw#noncon drugging tw#captivity tw#restraints tw#death mention tw#querencia#quinn the leader#dude whump#deaf whumpee#superpowers#superhero oc#hero whumpee#villain whumper#heroes and villains#whump series
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Severus Snape lives
I will forever scream to the heaven’s that SEVRUS SNAPE DIDNT DIE -- He tricked us all like he fooled everyone else. OKAY
Don't write me off just yet!!
Nagini bit him on Voldemort's orders right? We all saw it heck Harry saw it -- BUt BUt what if he did not actually die?
My Son
HIM
Look at him he’s as Clever as they come. okay
IF
IF anyone and I mean anyone had even the smallest chance at surviving poisonous snakes its that guy.
because as we’ve come to learn his is a brilliant wizard:
“Luckily Professor Snape was able to do enough to prevent a rapid spread of the curse --" said Dumbledore
"Why him?" asked Harry quickly. "Why not Madam Pomfrey?"
"Professor Snape knows much more about the Dark Arts than Madam Pomfrey, Harry.”
(Honestly it’s it just infuriating how he says that? He coulda just said:
“He’s an extraordinary wizard Harry, THANK MERLIN HE HAD WHAT WAS NECESSARY TOSAVE THAT CHILD. CAUSE OUR HEALER HAD NO IDEA WHAT TO DO. SIS COULDA DIED AND BEEN MOANING MYRTLE THE SECOND.
The way Dumbledaddy said it just rubs me the wrong way. )
Anyways I assure you he had the cure for Nagini’s venom , its another question entirely if he used it for himself...
That leads me to point 2:
Did my poor Severus have a reason to live? We know he was a bit depressed and honest a bit unhinged by that point. Maybe you think he would not have had it any other way other than death -- he was an honorable man.
If so then shouldn't he had help Harry out till the very end?
Lmao
NO. Dumbledore told him the only way for the war to end was for harry to die.
I THINK HIS PLAN WAS TRY UNTIL HE DIED. MAYBE EVEN HE MADE IT A GAMBLE? WHO KNOWS? COULD HE HAVE KNOW HE WOULD HAVE DIED BY HER VENOM? DID HE LEAVE IT UP TO FATE? DID HE HAVE A PLAN B TO MAKE IT OUT ALIVE? WHO KNOWS???
BUT THE WHOLE POINT OF THIS POST IS TO SAY I THINK HE DID FOR MY OWN SELFISH REASONS!
Maybe Severus himself wouldn't want to do such a cowardly or self preservation tact depends on who you ask but my boy had already done enough he saw his chance an you bet your arse he took it and escaped with his life, a dark mark free hand and a sick snake bite scar.
What I'm saying is He didn't need to stick the war out BUT he did need to die with witnesses to his death. (Maybe he even left a fake body?)
Who better that the golden boy himself -- I'm sure he wouldn't have wanted to do that to Harry as he had witnessed so many deaths himself... (both of them had really)
But so is life -- the dark lord though him dead, he could just not act the part. Less the Tom kill him and make sure this time round.
But that still hasn't answered : Did he have a reason to live?
Point 3:
We know when we see Severus’ old childhood home in Spinner's End its described as:
A tiny sitting room, which had the feeling of a dark, padded cell. The walls were completely covered in books, most of them bound in old black or brown leather; a threadbare sofa, an old armchair, and a rickety table stood grouped together in a pool of dim light cast by a candle-filled lamp hung from the ceiling. The place had an air of neglect, as though it was not usually inhabited.
in my stubborn fantasy were he is alive and well -- GUESS WHAT FOLKS!
He doesn't live there. Nope.
Now I know he’s a depressed loner who doesn't have a record with having nice things. He’s a gloomy office and the defense against the dark arts classroom he decorated was pretty much on brand. So why wouldn't he live in that childhood home?
He seems like the type to live in the past, right?
AGAIN WRONG.
HE HAS BEEN LYING TO US. HE HAS.
using the example up there with his home first :
“The place had an air of neglect, as though it was not usually inhabited.”
this is all i need.
He has to live there for two month every year, plus its being used now some how it should feel like someone lives there. personal items,,,,, something! if thats his home!
Wormtail was forced to stay in his room all the time, and hes looking to get Severus in trouble so why would Severus leave his shit laying around?
“an air of neglect” yah cause he probably hasn't been there in years til wormtail was forced to stay here. He probably had there listed as his place of residence, why well get into later, from how the even down to the furniture sounds, it sounds thrown together. to fit his brand, of gloomy and mess the fuck up and lets not forget comfy for homeboy worm tail. (bet it had a broken fire place)
why would someone who has moved on with the war for like 10 + years bring that shit back into any life he built? having wormtail the man literally responsible for lilys death in HIS house? where HE lived?
NO RAT MAN LIVE IN THIS DUSTY PLACE I PUT HORRID BOOKS I DONT WANT MY CHILDREN GETTING INTO. PLUS HE APEASED THE DARK LORD!
A WINS A WIN. I DONT CARE
The black sisters just pop in for a visit -- who wants Bella near their family????? No you rich fucks please come into this ‘home’ of mine. eat with the poor. welcome. No doubt they looked down on him like everyone else but now they need his help. Fancy that.
Why would he have his new life mixed with his old? why so these no goods can come and run the show? darken his hallways? fuck that! You think he wants dummybolr coming knocking on his door talking with his kids and partner and using them as a pawn so SEverus could do as he says?? NO he’ll keep his old home just as it is, a safety haven for every member of his past to come visit and demand him.
Kill me!
Protect the boy!
take a vow and protect my son!
Yall in the back : HE DIDNT HAVE A LIFE! HE HAS NO FRIENDS OR FAMILY!
says who? Cause he NEVER EVER mixed them in with his job? knowing when Harry came into school his shit would get rocked? All the happiness he found (ON HIS OWN) over the years that we never knew because he didn't want it to be destroyed from a mistake he made at 19 - 21 ish?? the maths aint mathing.
Plus how many of us know much anything about our antisocial teachers life? i didn't even know my teachers had families!
Maybe his Partner though he was crazy, his kids hated he made them go to school in France and they really only saw him some weekends or certain days when he went off to be with them -- other than summer when they had him certainly. Heck even for Christmas he never took time off! He had to do a seamless job to make sure no one ever caught on to him. Maybe he missed birthdays and maybe everyday his kids begged him to stop taking part. maybe his partner said they could handle whatever came together, maybe they argued more than they saw each other because they just wanted Severus to live -- to come out alive.
BUT HE KNEW HOW HE FELT WHEN HE HEARD AND SAW FOR JUST FOR REFUSING THE DARK LORD IT MEANT DEATH AND MAYBE EVEN THE EXTINCTION OF AN ENTIRE FAMILY -- HOW COULD HE SUBJUCT HIS FAMILY TO THAT? FUCK IF ITS LIKE 10 YEARS IN THE FUTURE. ALL HE KNEW IS THAT ONE DAY IT WOULD COME.
IN CONCLUSION,
If Severus could lie to :
1. Voldemort
2. Dumbledore
3. The Hogworts staff who he was friends with.
Maybe even others take your pick!
Who are we?
He wanted to live -- But more than anything to do that he had to be free, Free of his past and when Severus Snape died. He finally was.
SEverus Snape. Professor Snape. the Shadow.
the man he made into a character, who he shaped into an unpleasant person, so he wouldnt have any ties that ran too deep, he made everything Severus Snape had to show for himself an addition to that character so no one would be any the wiser.
I refuse criticism and Reject criticism
thankyou ~
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Seven Snippets Tag
I was tagged by @sam-glade <3
Today's theme is: I'm fine featuring Thorns.
And I am gonna tag @starlit-hopes-and-dreams @moremysteriesthantragedies @camillenrose
You don't have to use a theme (I mean, you don't have to do it at all, you know), I just felt like it.
I'm fine
When Caldyn put his weight on his left leg, a sharp pain ran through his knee, up into his thigh. He winced.
“Are you all right? Do you need help?”
“I’m fine.” It hurt, but it wouldn’t give way under him. Probably. “I’ve just been sitting still too long,” he added.
I'm fine
“Please say something.”
If only his body would obey him. He didn’t want her to worry. In his despair, he reached out to Seyonna with his mind, only sharing, not reading.
I’m fine.
I'm fine
“Caldyn! Are you hurt?”
Was he? His head hurt, but a quick examination told him that all his limbs were still in working order. He touched his hair, finding that some of his branches had broken off. His fingers came back sticky with sap.
“I’m fine. I think.”
I'm fine
He leaned his back against the side of the bed. Bending his right leg and propping his arms against it allowed him to rest his head for a moment. His neck and shoulders hurt from the position he must have been in for hours already.
He felt something touch his mind, like a meaning, but without words, a silent question. It surprised him.
I’m fine, he replied, but he didn’t lift his head.
I'm fine
“Give her a moment,” Breannan’s voice sounded instead. Caldyn turned his head, listening to Breannan’s steps as he came closer and sat in front of him. “How do you feel?”
Caldyn shrugged. “I’m not sure. I guess I’m fine.” He moved his fingers, as if to prove he could. “I just can’t believe… that it took so long.”
I'm fine
“I’m so sorry, I forgot about your feet. We should have gone home. Or stayed home. You shouldn’t—”
“I’m fine, really.” He gently pulled her closer. “I didn’t want to stay at home. And I am glad I was there to scare those ruffians off. And now I am glad that I can show you this place.”
Bonus: It's fine
“I wanted to check the bodies. See if there is any hint where they came from, or what poison they used. The one I searched had bags, but—” He hesitated. “I’m afraid to reach in there. If there are any more of those projectiles and I hurt myself on them…” He didn’t really want to think about what the poison had done to him. “I’m sorry, I know this is probably pretty disgusting. It’s enough if you can look into the bags, if you don’t want to touch them.”
“Don’t worry, it’s fine. Though,” she added, and he heard her shift, “one of them probably doesn’t have much left to examine. Sorry about that.”
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The Hobbits watching Frozen
Merry: Ah, and who among us could forget the absolute bop that is...this weird ice cutting song
Pippin: I don’t know Merry, I would say this song is...pretty cool
Merry: Oh, look out
Pippin: I’m just saying, it’s a chilled-out groove
Sam: I might need you to leave, if you don’t stop
Frodo: And from this point on, no more Nordic-inspired numbers!
***
Frodo: Wait these ice-cutters are just fricking leaving this child behind them?
Frodo: Whose kid is he?! Why does no one notice they are leaving him??
***
“Cuties, I’m gonna keep you!”
Merry: ‘What, you’re joking right?’
Merry: ‘No, you’re mine now!’
***
Frodo: Wait, Hans is tricking Anna into believing he’s in love with her, but she’s not around, so why did he make that face?
Pippin: Yeah you’re right, the only explanation for it that this is his evil plotting face [Imitates Hans smile]
***
“And maybe it’s the party talking, or the chocolate fondue
Merry: ‘Oh man yeah I’m so fucked up on chocolate fondue I don’t even know what I’m saying right now!’
***
Sam: [Whimpers slightly]
Merry: Is something wrong Sammy?
Sam: I just realized, Anna falls in love so fast because...most people have shut her out her whole life
Pippin: Ouch, and then the first person to give her attention since she lost her parents is actually just...taking advantage of her
Frodo: There’s no way she’s coming out of this situation without trust issues
***
“The snow glows bright on the mountain tonight, not a footprint to be seen*
Pippin: Except for the footprints behind you!
Frodo:...Hey yeah!
***
Sam: She really shouldn’t let go of any more of her clothing, that’s for sure she’s going to freeze to death
***
Frodo: You think this ice castle has a bathroom?
Pippin: Ice toilet!
Merry: Or a bed?
Pippin: Ice bed!
Frodo:...
Frodo: This place sounds awful
***
“Like his peculiar brain-dear, his thing with the reindeer, That's a little outside of nature's laws!”
Frodo: His thing with the reindeer?
Sam: Outside of nature’s laws??
Merry: He definitely fucks the reindeer!
***
“Oh Anna, if only there was someone out there who loved you”
Pippin: If only there was someone out there who loved you [Imitates Hans smile again]
***
Frodo: Something that’s always bothered me with this movie is that, an act of true love will save Anna’s love, and we learn that that true love doesn’t have to be romantic love, so why doesn’t Olof nearly sacrificing his life to comfort Anna because, he cares more about her than himself count as an act of true love!
Frodo: He even says, some people are worth melting for! Like...bruh
***
“Just take care of my sister!”
Sam: Aughfb, you’ve already done a good job of that yourself Elsa!
***
Merry: ‘Elsa, we the villagers have thought it over and with no discussion whatsoever we’ve decided we’re not scared anymore and Ice magic is actually cool as hell!’
***
[After the movie]
Frodo: So, Elsa’s power set includes [Takes out notebook] ‘Freezing Water, freezing objects, creating Ice and Snow from nothing, Instantly creating anything she can imagine out of ice, poison ice blast that slowly kill you, giving life to snow and or ice, erasing fabric from existence, creating fabric from...ice I guess, melting snow and ice, telekinetic manipulation of frozen water, creating an eternal winter, creating an eternal mini winter-snow cloud that can follow a subject around wherever they go and reviving dead flora.
Sam:
Merry:
Pippin:
Pippin: Yeah, all checks out
Frodo: With Elsa’s seemingly unstoppable “ice powers” I’d imagine Arendelle becomes a global superpower. No military force at that time could stand a chance against her never-ending army of Ice-Golems.
Sam: Oh, I get it! You shouldn’t trust an open door, true love is a closed-door that is eventually opened up to you
Merry: I can assure you that no one was thinking that when they made this movie Sam
#This is all from an old Sanders Sides video#Soooooo#source: sanders sides#incorrect quotes#incorrect lotr quotes#incorrect the hobbit quotes#lotr#lord of the rings#the hobbit#frodo baggins#samwise gamgee#merry brandybuck#pippin took#long one
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Till the End of the Moon - Episode 25
Last episode we started running towards a huge wall of miscommunication and misunderstanding, especially because Susu is meddling with stuff she shouldn’t. Of course, Ye Bingchang is part of the problem, but if Susu wasn’t trying to go behind Tantai Jin’s back all the time, we would avoid much of the upcoming crisis.
Tantai Jin asks Ye Xiwu if she made this porridge especially for him. He asks her to feed it to him. But before she puts the spoon to his mouth, she faints? Falls asleep? I’m not so sure what happened and we’re already moving on to something else. Okay so I think this review is going to be somewhat complicated. Susu seems to only come back to herself while riding a horse and she seems surprised that she managed to escape with Xiao Lin. Tantai Jin had Nian Baiyu check the porridge and they found a deadly poison from Sheng, without any cure. Now I’m scared for Granny. I have a bad feeling. Anyways, Tantai Jin thinks she wanted to kill him. So he uses the water of Ruo river to control her and he sends her to do what she wants. She admits to poisoning the porridge, because she did with something else, which creates more misunderstandings since she never intended to kill Tantai Jin, but of course her hypnotized self won’t explain anything. He still lets her go and tells Nian Baiyu to let her achieve her goal, then he goes crazy from the hurt I guess, destroying everything. Then he does something to a puppet, but I don’t understand.
Susu doesn’t remember how they escaped and Xiao Lin says she seems to have a fever, probably from the fright of the night. He thinks it’s a little suspicious that everything is going so well and that no one is following them. She remembers a little bit. Xiao Lin wants Susu to come along with him since Tantai Jin will be angry at her, but she won’t follow him to the South, she needs to stay by his side and obviously Tantai Jin only thinks she wants to go with Xiao Lin.
Tantai Jin hears news that something happened at the Ye family residence. I hope that when he hearst hat granny was hurt because Ye Xiwu made porridge for her he’ll figure out that something is wrong. Ye Xiwu would never try to harm even less kill her granny. Ye Bingchang is actually very surprised to see Tantai Jin come around and alive. Please slip up. Tantai Jin don’t fall for her dirty lies. Also why is Nian Baiyu there? Wasn’t he supposed to follow Ye Xiwu? Granny gains consciousness seeing Tantai Jin and asks about Xiwu. She dies relieved after Tantai Jin promises to her that he’ll take good care of Ye Xiwu. Please do the maths Tantai Jin, you are smart. Tantai Jin allows Ye Bingchang to stay at home. Ye Qingyu tells Tantai Jin that granny was poisoned. Ye Bingchang says that granny must have taken the porridge by accident since Ye Xiwu would never hurt her. Then he says it was to hurt him. I’m so upset. all of this only to save Xiao Lin from prison. Really not worth it. I hope they find the sleepy powder in the other bowl of porridge, but they probably won’t. And Ye Bingchang gets what she wanted. Unless Tantai Jin has a plan. He’s usually two steps ahead.
I thought Xiwu wasn’t going to follow Xiao Lin? They arrived at the meeting point where master Pang waited for him even though he was late for four days. Tantai Jin takes control of Ye Xiwu’s body and has her stab Xiao Lin. They really can’t communicate like normal people instead of going behind each other’s back, right? This is exactly why I was against this ship to begin with. They can’t trust each other. Really bad special effects on the bleeding. She comes back to her senses, unaware of what happened. Nian Baiyu asks Tantai Jin why he made her do that when he knew all along her goal and he wants her to be hated by everyone so she’ll have nowhere to go but to him. If this isn’t a BIG BIG BIG red flag mister Tantai Jin? What a twisted plan. That’s not a way to ear someone’s love. However something isn’t going according to plan. Xiao Lin wants to protect Ye Xiwu. He comforts her, the wound isn’t fatal. He says that he was hurt by the Jing soldiers and not Ye Xiwu, even though they all witnessed it. Master Pang freed Ye Xiwu from the spell, however Xiao Lin is going to die from the wound because it is no ordinary wound. Master Pang wants Xiao Lin to keep bed ridden until he finds a solution, but Xiao Lin wants to carve the sharp stabbing out of his body, because he’s sure there’s a reason for Tantai Jin letting him live when he could have killed him. Xiao Lin sends Ye Xiwu away but she wants to stay. He tells her her granny passed away. He also lets her think that Tantai Jin killed her? WTF? I try to watch my words, but what the hell is happening right now? Dudes, stop using Ye Xiwu in your fights, she has something more important to accomplish and has no time to play being your tool. Once she’s all excited with hatred towards Tantai Jin, Xiao Lin knocks her out. When she wakes up, she’s tied up in a carriage and manages to escape thanks to her spiritual weapon.
Tantai Jin’s plan didn’t work as Xiao Lin carved the weapon out of his body. They even defeated the other army and saved all the prisoners. Xiao Lin left a letter to tell Tantai Jin that he’s leaving his country in his care while the others will escape to the South. He even offers him the dragon scale to protect him.
Susu makes it back to the camp, but it’s too late: Xiao Lin is dead. He asked in his last will that Tantai Jin takes care of Ye Bingchang, since she’s a nice girl and now she won’t have a husband anymore to care for her. Master Pang is going to leave the mortal realm and go back to cultivate, he’s dejected from being here, now that Sheng is gone and Xiao Lin too.
Tantai Jin refuses Nian Baiyu’s comforting words. He knows that Ye Xiwu is never going to come back because he forced her to stab the man she loved all this time. He’s very sad. Well your plan was dumb. You’re usually smarter than that. However, while on an outing, she’s right there, saying she’s come back. She tells him they should start over again, that she forgives him and asks him if he forgives her. He nods yes. She’s finally back on track, she told Master Pang she needs to finish her mission this time. I mean... you kind of spoiled it yourself by doing useless stuff. BUT OH WELL. Then she faints.
It’s kind of a little bit frustrating how he forgives her so easily when he readily believed Ye Bingchang that Ye Xiwu poisoned the porridge. It doesn’t make much sense to me that he agrees not to ask anymore about what happened. Susu is confusing me at this point, I’m not sure I understand what she wants from him. It’s a mess. But it’s a drama, so it should be a mess.
#till the end of the moon#luo yunxi#bai lu#deng wei#chen duling#xianxia#xianxia drama#costume drama#cdrama#c-drama#chinese drama#drama review#drama recap#drama reaction
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Love On the Battlefield
Author's Note: This is a short story I wrote based on one of my favourite audio roleplays/dramas on YouTube. I will post a link below in case any of you want to check it out and might I also recommend subscribing to him because his content is top tier!
I should also note in the original version, the soldier doesn't have a name, but I thought of inserting a random one just because he deserves one.
Story Summary: Y/N has been a member of the Healer's Guild for the last three years. She has seen her fair share of death and seen many broken soldiers, but none of them have managed to capture her heart as swiftly as Everett, who, little do they know, is someone from her distant pasts.
Story Warning(s): Angst, descriptions of war, but I promise there's a happy ending.
Word Count: 3,915
Inspired by this audio:
youtube
When I first arrived here on this forsaken island, I tried so hard to ignore it: the haunting, shrill whispers of countless weapons, gunfire, people crying and screaming out in agony, and artillery barrage sounding as though the earth were cracking up like an egg of super-gigantic proportions tapped by a gargantuan spoon, that’s what my father, who was once a soldier himself, described it, and now and then, the unmistakable roar of aircraft hovering the starless, smokey-gray sky, ready to fire at will at any given moment, with absolutely no remorse, mercy, nor regard for the multitudinous lives that will consequently and regrettably be stolen.
I used to close my eyes and imagine I was somewhere else — some place where the only sounds to break the peaceful silence are the crickets chirping in the cattails, frogs calling to one another over the still-sounding water, or a child’s laughter. In this place, you won’t look up and see those heavy storm clouds of smoke, but an endless, purple sky where the stars pour out, and the air hasn’t been poisoned by the smell of rotting corpses, blood and ashes, instead, it smells of wildflowers and earth.
But the longer I stayed, the more suffering I saw, not even my imagination could make it go away, and the harder it became to pretend it wasn’t happening and to keep up this brave front that I’d constantly tried to put on.
People assume that my job is easy, caring for wounded soldiers, and perhaps in a way, they’re right. I should count myself fortunate that I spend most of my time shielded by the fabric of this tent and not out there with a weapon in my hand, praying that when I fall asleep, I’ll survive to fight another day, but you shouldn’t assume that we don’t have our own stories to tell, stories of hopelessness and grief and heartache.
I, too, have seen the many horrors many soldiers tell us about when we’re young and curious, I’ve seen many a man’s flesh be torn apart by bullets and shells, I’ve heard their piercing cries of pain as the poison takes over their bodies and minds. I’ve heard the desperate calls for friends long lost, and I’ve seen their eyes go cloudy as everything around them goes quiet and still as they take their last breath.
Surely there are better places for a man to die.
And it is not easy. Not in the least, and I do not wish these horrors on anyone. Not even my worst enemies, which by the way, there are few.
As I and several other members of my guild make our way down a steep hill toward the beach, trying hard not to slip and tumble all the way down to the bottom — though I will admit it would save me a lot of time and effort — I strain my ears and scan the landscape for any survivors, guided by the cries of seagulls and the sound of the ocean crashing against the sand.
My throat tightens the closer I get and my stomach churns and swirls, both from nervousness, and the monstrous waves of impending doom that threaten to pull me under minute by minute.
Reaching the bottom of the hill at last, I stand there for just a moment, frozen by fear and by sadness. Sheets of rain pour down on us, as though God Himself is trying to wash away any evidence of battle, to cleanse away that dark, crimson liquid staining the ground and tainting the once blue waters and restore the beach to its original beauty.
I wish it were that simple, to just wash it all away as if it never happened.
Many of the men here once thought the same. They’ve tried to forget, to put that part of their pasts behind them, but the dying cries of their friends and enemies, and the sounds of gunfire still plague their dreams, and not even the god of sleep has the power to take them away. For some, the memories are too much to bear and the only way for them to have some form of peace, is to drown them all in drink or to find a way to put their minds to rest permanently.
Amidst the symphony of sounds and through thick haze of smoke the smoke, I spot someone kneeling on the sand, his one arm pressing hard against his chest, inches away from where his heart should be. His damp, chestnut brown hair sticks to his forehead and his head slowly tilts upwards to look my way before he squeezes shut.
His mouth moves. I don’t know what he’s saying and it’s hard to tell if he’s speaking to me or to himself, and then he lies down on the ground. My breath hitches and wasting no more time, I trudge the sopping, wet, almost muddy ground, trying to block out everything else and get to him before it’s too late.
“Did you not hear me? I-I said leave me.”
Despite his protests, I sit down on the ground next to him and gently bring his head to rest in my lap, moving his hair out of the way and checking his body temperature with the back of my hand.
He has a terrible fever. I need to get him back to the campsite, though I cannot do it on my own without risking further injury.
Speaking of which, I need to put pressure on the wound to keep him from bleeding to death.
“Why would I do that?” I ask, tilting my head to one side.
“Because I failed. That’s why,” he replies, a mixture of anger and regret causing his voice to shake. He swallows thickly and sighs deeply. “I failed to save those I swore to protect; and it’s not that I failed once. It’s time and time again and it never ends. I was hoping to be like the great ones, hoping to be a protector, but all of my efforts have been in vain.”
His heavy-lidded, icy blue gaze shifts from the sky, to the ocean, and then to me as raindrops run down his cheeks, or maybe they’re tears.
“I’m sorry.”
Something in the way he says these two simple words pierces me. Why is he apologizing as if this whole thing is somehow his fault? I can’t say I haven’t been in the same position before. Whenever one of my patients dies in my care, I go over every possible scenario in my head, wondering what I could have done right in order to prevent it from happening. I think about their families whose lives will be shaken because I failed to help them.
“You have nothing to apologize for,” I tell him after a long beat of silence and trying to figure out what to say to ease his guilt, though from experience, it is not an easy thing to do, to not blame yourself for what has happened to someone else. “No one among us could have prevented this. Some things are far beyond our control.”
I reach into my sack and pull out a small canteen that’s filled with fresh water. He shakes his head, his eyes becoming misty once more. “You shouldn’t waste this on me. I’m sure there are others who need it more. Besides, I have nothing left in me. I probably wouldn’t stand if I had the strength.”
“Well, in that case, I would carry you away from here myself,” I counter, “You might look at me and think, ‘this girl couldn’t possibly be strong enough to lift and carry a fully-grown man, but trust me, I’d find a way.”
For one split second, I see the briefest, most microscopic smile flicker across his face and if I had blinked, I may have missed it.
“Why do you treat me with such good will?” he asks, his voice sounding less scratchy now, but still tinged with sadness. “Why do you insist on being so kind and helping someone who has done you nothing? A stranger? A broken soul?”
“Because you are someone worth saving. No one deserves to die out here alone and afraid, and because you’ve done so much more for me and for many others than you’ll ever realize.”
Before I can say anything more, two uniformed men come running toward us with a stretcher and lift him onto it, carrying him towards the campsite.
For a second, my composure falters.
I stop feeling the ground beneath me and my chest tightens as though my heart might actually break, but then somehow, I am on my feet again and marching back to the tent, trying my hardest to keep the tears at bay for just a while longer.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The long hours drone on and day turns into night. The rain has calmed down to a light drizzle, the thunder now a quiet, distant rumble and the time being, the sound of gunfire has ceased. We take every advantage of the opportunity to tend to the wounded, stock up on supplies, and for some of us, this may be our only chance to get some rest.
As the broken soldier lies in a bed, covered in blankets and breathing softly in and out, I sit on a wobbly wooden stool by the bed, and count the number of times his chest rises and falls, keeping track of each breath, worried that if I close my eyes, even for a second, he will slip away.
Moments ago, we gave him a sedative to keep him asleep and something for the pain while I worked on removing the bullet and managed to close up the wound. I made sure to leave it open for a little while and to check for swelling or infection before dressing it with gauze and some medical tape. Once that was done, we put him in some dryer clothes and then hung his wet uniform to dry above the fire.
His fever has gone down significantly, but he’s not out of the woods yet. He will need constant care, at least until his wound has fully healed, so for now, I stick to making sure the dressing is clean and that when he rouses now and then, he has something to drink before going back to sleep. He doesn’t say much aside from thanking me for the water or for asking me where he is.
I resist the urge to run my fingers through his dark locks or to press a gentle kiss to the side of his forehead, however, I do allow myself to hold onto his hand and whisper soft, reassuring words in his ear if I see that he’s having a nightmare.
It isn’t until the middle of the night when I hear him mutter something about two suns staring down at him and he opens his eyes again, groaning softly as they adjust to the dim lighting of the tent and they focus on my face.
“Such soft hands,” he says, running his thumb across my knuckles. “I’ve received kindness before, but not to this loving extent. I mean, I have no ties to you, but here you are, bandaging my wounds and staying awake to watch over me. I remember that sweet sorrow as I lay there in the mud, waiting to die, and then feeling your gentle touch.”
He pauses, halting his movements and then his eyes look right into mine.
“I used to be a thief. Spent my entire life on the streets, stealing what I could to survive, searching for work and being unable to maintain a job, which is how I ended up taking to this horrid lifestyle. I was hoping to redeem myself, to make my life mean something, but it seems I couldn’t even do that well.”
“Please. You mustn’t speak of yourself that way,” I respond, trying my hardest to keep my own voice from breaking. “Seeing you lying there reminded me of my father who served in the army, hoping to return to his wife and children, and I thought, maybe you had someone waiting for you. A family, a lover, children, and I wanted to make sure you got back home to them. Not only that, you saved my life once before.”
For a long time, he searches my face for something. Some semblance of someone he met long ago, a memory, and soon enough, the pieces of the puzzle begin to fit together.
“I was leaving a tavern late one night and these men started following me, circling around me like vultures at the feast, ravenous, looking for an easy meal. But then you stepped in and defended me. You remember that, don’t you?”
“I- I remember how terrified you were and throwing the first punch, knocking one down and then I saw you run. I never knew whether or not you got to safety, I just knew that you were away from them. Did they hurt you?”
“Thanks to you, they didn’t get the chance.”
“All this time, you remembered,” he says and a new expression comes over him. His one hand reaches outward and I feel his warm hand brush across my cheek.
“See? You’re a better man than you give yourself credit for.” I smile, leaning into his touch, wanting to remember it forever.
“And I shall never forget how you reminded me of that.” He pauses again and then breathes in deeply. “Thank you. Not just for this, but for all you’ve done for me. If it’s not too much to ask, might I stay here for just a little while longer? There’s something comforting about being with you. I can’t place what it is exactly, but all I know is that I don’t want to let it go just yet.”
“Then hold on, hold onto me for as long as you need.”
As the days unfold, the war presses on. The wounded keep coming in, seeking solace from cries of pain and the distant rumble of artillery, and I and the other nurses do their best to put an end to their pain and sorrows, to listen as they speak of their fears—fear of the battles that awaited, fear of the darkness that clung to their pasts, and fear of the unknown that lay ahead.
Each life saved carries the weight of those lost, but no matter how hard the earth around us shakes, and the bond we have formed from the threads of shared pain and healing, grows stronger. Our conversations become a lifeline, a thread weaving through the fabric of the night, binding two souls in the midst of turmoil. This tent, once a small sanctuary of respite amidst the chaos that raged beyond its flaps, transforms into a cocoon of shared stories and whispered confessions between the two of us.
He tells me more about his childhood, about how his mother died shortly after he was born, leaving him in the care of his father who was so overcome by grief that he could barely look after himself, much less a newborn. As a result, he spent most of his life in an orphanage, until he was old enough to leave. He didn’t wish to, but times were hard, and there were other young boys who needed a bed to sleep in and food to eat. That’s how he ended up as a thief, guided only by his wit and his determination to survive.
In turn, I tell him fragments of my own life — about my family, where I grew up, the endless days spent playing in the meadows with my friends, and how much my mother and I cried when my father joined the army and how happy we were when he finally came back home to us. I even tell him about when I joined the guild, the one place where I could use my skills and truly make a difference in the world.
One night, as the dim light of a flickering lantern casts shadows on the tent walls and I’m changing the bandages, I notice that the rain has stopped and that only the wind rustling the leaves on the trees and the soft snoring of the other men in the tent can be heard. It’s almost too quiet and I’m just praying it lasts.
“It’s funny. I’ve known you for so long and yet I never asked your name,” he confesses suddenly and then I remember all the conversations we’ve had. He’s right. Out of all the conversations we’ve had, not once have we asked each other what our names were.
I smile. “Tell me yours and I’ll tell you mine.”
“You’re something else, I’ll give you that. Very well, you can call me Everett.”
“And you can call me Y/N.”
“Y/N,” he repeated, savouring the syllables. “A name as gentle as the hands that saved me.”
My cheeks suddenly feel warm. I’d like to believe that it’s because of the candles burning on the desks to keep out the chill outside, but then again, it could be because of the way Everett is looking at me with those eyes. Eyes that if I stare too long into, I might end up drowning and unable to come up for air.
“Wow. I’m sorry. That sounded a lot more poetic in my head than it did out loud.”
“Don’t apologize,” I reply, tucking a piece of my hair behind my ear. “No one has ever said anything so romantic to me in my whole life.”
“Really?” He tries to sit up and adjust his position while being mindful of the stitches so they won’t tear.
I tilt my head to one side. “You sound surprised.”
“Well, if you’ll forgive me for sounding forward, but I thought you had someone back home. A husband, a lover, someone who says things like that to you all the time, but it seems to me that’s not the case.”
“No, I’m not married,” I respond, “nor do I have a lover.”
“So, I have a chance then?” He sounds so hopeful that it makes my heart skip a beat and brings a smile to my face. “I hear all the girls where you come from love rugged, rogue soldiers with messy hair.”
I laugh softly, unable to resist that charming smile of his. I cannot deny that Everett is in fact the most attractive man I’ve ever seen in my life and the bravest I’ve ever met. No one has ever made me feel those sparks and those butterflies like he does and he’s the only person who can make the outside world seem distant and out of reach even as the war presses on.
“Only if you try and get some sleep,” I whisper, gently putting my hands on his shoulders and easing him back against the pillows. “You’re sitting up well enough on your own now. That’s a good sign. How about tomorrow we shall see if we can get you up and walking again?”
“Only if you stay here with me,” he says, patting the empty spot on the bed beside me. I stare at the spot and then look over my shoulder, hesitating.
“You know, I normally have very strict rules about sleeping next to my patients, or any man I’m not married to, for that matter. However, we’re both grown adults. I will not cross any boundaries and I trust you to do the same.”
“That’s true. I am above all things, a gentleman and I give you my word of honour that I will not lay a finger on you unless you wish it.”
“Just for tonight.” I crawl into the empty space beside him. It’s not the most practical sleeping arrangement, considering how the bed is technically only big enough to fit one person, not two, and there’s little room for personal space, however, it’s not as if we’ll be locked in a passionate embrace.
We’ll just be sleeping. That’s it.
“Just for tonight,” he confirms.
It’s just like the sleepovers I had with my friends back in school, only much, much different.
I bury myself under the blankets and lay my head down on the pillow. We are so close to each other that I can feel his warm breath on my neck as he buries himself deeper under the covers and I swear he can hear my heart ramming against my chest and see the blush on my cheeks.
“See? That’s not so bad now, is it?”
Even with the lights out, I can tell he’s grinning from ear to ear and I’m sure he can tell that I’m rolling my eyes.
“Careful, or I might hit you with a pillow,” I say in a non-threatening tone.
“Ah, but if you do that, then I might have to hit you back,” Everett replies, “and if I may offer a word of advice, I think it’s only fair for me to warn you that all rules I have for the battlefield are thrown out the window when it comes to a pillow fight.”
“Hmm, now that I think about it, it would be unwise for me to challenge a soldier to a pillow fight and perhaps it’s best to keep our pillows to ourselves.”
“Smart girl,” he chuckles softly. Suddenly, I feel his lips on my cheek and lay still for a long, long time and I hear him add, “You said nothing about keeping my lips off of you.”
“Oh, well, I should have been more specific,” I shake my head and then without thinking, I lay my head down on his chest. “This doesn’t hurt, does it?”
“Y/N, you could never hurt me. Not in a million years.” He wraps his arm around me, rubbing his hand up and down my back in a comforting gesture. “If we ever make it back home—”
“When,” I correct him.
“When we make it back home, I want to marry you. I want to save up enough money to afford to buy you a proper ring.”
“I don’t need a ring. It’s a piece of jewellery and could never be as valuable as the love we feel for each other.”
“What about a house? Surely we will need a place for the nine of us to live in.”
“Nine of us?” I question.
“Yes. Nine of us. You, me, and our seven beautiful children.”
“Not so fast, Romeo. Let’s start with one and see how we feel afterwards.”
“And this is why I love you,” he says, giving me a gentle squeeze. “You’re smarter than me in so many ways and you have given me a reason to keep going, something worth fighting for.”
In the quiet, we whisper words of commitment and our hearts entwine in a dance that transcends the present chaos. We find hope in the idea that beyond the battlefield, a life awaits us beyond the confines of the makeshift shelter—a life built on love, resilience, and the promise of a tomorrow, where the echoes of war would be replaced by the laughter of a family.
And as I write to you here, dear reader, as I look out the window and see my husband and our three beautiful children playing in the meadow outside the window, I can confirm that our dreams did indeed come true, and that love does in fact, conquer all.
The End.
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My Review of Demon Slayer: Swordsmith Village Arc
Here we are again! I shouldn’t say that. I love Demon Slayer. Who cares if the plot is simple? I’m a simpleton and enjoy it.
HISTORY: The story of Demon Slayer is…wait, I’ve already gone through this twice. Just read my previous reviews to get caught up.
Here's Season One
Here's Mugen Train & Entertainment Arc
SWORDSMITH VILLAGE ARC: First, let’s see what happened after Daki and Gyuutaro were defeated. Muzan was displeased. This is the first upper rank demon of his that has been killed in over 100 years. So, there’s a lot of tension around him and the other upper ranked demons.
As for Tanjiro, he was in a coma for two months. Uzui, walked it off despite having major injuries including a newly-formed nub where his arm used to be. Zenitsu healed and is off on a mission (so we won’t see or hear him for a while). And as for Inosuke, he was hit with a lot of poison attacks and was on the brink of death several times. But here he is two months later on the ceiling like he’s fucking Spider-Pig.
Seriously, I love this guy. It’s a damn shame he won’t be here this season either.
So, Tanjiro’s sword got chipped in the last battle. Oof, his swordsmith is going to have him murdered. Don’t believe me, he sent him death notices to Tanjiro while Tanjiro was in a coma. This guy don’t play!
Okay, time to go to the Swordsmith Village. A mysterious village that unless you come from there, you don’t get to know how to get there. Your ears, eyes, and even nostrils must be shut. Tanjiro is going there to heal up some more and meet Hotaru to get his sword fixed up. There, he meets up with two hashiras, one demon slayer we haven’t seen since early season one, and a mystery fella that Tanjiro recalls from a dream or memory. That last one, we’re not going to get any more pressing information about this recalled memory. Totally shouldn’t have even mentioned that in this review.
Now, keep in mind that I’m only giving you the light-hearted crap that happens in the first couple of episodes. Demon Slayer has a funny habit of giving a few episodes at the beginning for the silly stuff before it goes into full-on archaic fights against the demons.
CHARACTERS OF IMPORTANCE THIS SEASON: Hmm…which Hashira will possibly die this season? The pink-haired moe-blob and the aloof guy who could give a fuck. I’m prematurely calling it like I see it thanks to what happened to Rengoku and Uzui. And as the hashiras are getting stronger, as are the demons Muzan sends.
Muichirou Tokitou is a Hashira who always has a face of someone who couldn’t care less. But don’t let that fool you as he’s a fast and experienced demon slayer. But this season, we see him act differently at times and that’s usually when he’s with Tanjiro. After a really traumatic event in his life, his memories become a little fractured.
Mitsuri Kanroji is another hashira who uses a sword that’s almost like a whip. From what it looks like, Kanroji doesn’t have major baggage with avenging dead family members like nearly every other character on this show. Kanroji was quite strong for her age and would get stronger with each passing year. Unfortunately, this was a turn-off for marriage suitors as they were put off by Kanroji’s strength and even appearance. She ends up using her strength for good by protecting those in need of protecting.
Genya…oh, I’ve made jokes about this guy from the get-go. And after finally watching this subbed and watched the series My Hero Academia, Genya is just Demon Slayer Bakugo. But we finally see this guy in action instead of being an angry, screaming asshole. He’s actually the younger brother of another Hashira. Literally did not know that until this season! Genya is trying to catch up to his older brother Sanemi. And believe it or not, Genya has a backstory very similar to Tanjiro. Dead siblings and everything!
With all of that said, here’s what you might recognize these folks from.
JAPANESE CAST:
*Tokitou is played by Kengo Kawanishi (known for Rei on March Comes in Like a Lion, Ritsu on Fruits Basket 2019, Sogiita on Railgun, and Satou on Food Wars)
*Kanroji is played by Kana Hanazawa (known for Chloe on Pokemon Journeys, Kaede on Angel Beats, Mayuri on Steins;Gate, Nadeko on Monogatari, Anri on Durarara, Shiro on Deadman Wonderland, and Ruri on Oreimo)
*Genya is played by Nobuhiko Okamoto (known for Gladion on Pokemon SM, Accelerator on Railgun/Index, Bakugo on My Hero Academia, Garfiel on Re:Zero, Usui on Maid-sama, Ryou on Food Wars, and Liebe on Black Clover)
ENGLISH CAST:
*Tokitou is played by Griffin Burns (known for Colt on Attack on Titan, Tadano on Aggretsuko, Diavolo on Jojo’s Pt. 5, Ryouta on Kakegurui, and Jintan on Anohana)
*Kanroji is played by Kira Buckland (known for Jolyne on Jojo’s Pt. 6, Beatrice on Re:Zero, Izumo on Blue Exorcist, Rishia on Shield Hero, Iroha on Magia Record, Setsuna on Yashahime, and Luculia on Violet Evergarden)
*Genya is played by Zeno Robinson (known for Goh on Pokemon Journeys, Hawks on My Hero Academia, Shuuji on Tokyo Revengers, Zenon on Black Clover, and Garfiel on Re:Zero)
SHIPPING: Weird, I don’t think I brought up any shipping topics in the previous review. Probably because Uzui is a giga-chad with his three wives. There was only one little, teeny-tiny, baby scene that cemented something I didn’t even think of.
This. I love this.
THE RETURN OF THIS ANIME’S SCARIEST CHARACTER: I always love to bring this guy up. Mostly because his appearances make a bigger impact than it really should with me. Tanjiro’s swordsmith doesn’t even need to be on screen to be intimidating. The death threats he sent to Tanjiro while he was in the coma speak for themselves. Apparently in the manga, there’s literally a page that just says, “Fuck you” over and over again. Haganezuka does not play around when Tanjiro chips, breaks, or loses his sword and this is already the third time this has happened. Well, bro comes back all buff and…doesn’t try to destroy Tanjiro. This time!
Haganezuka winds up honing a sword for Tanjiro and that has been his mission for the remainder of this season. Why should I bother saying anything here? Because this man is determined. He is being attacked and insulted by a demon and Haganezuka is still working on Tanjiro’s sword. You would have to pry this sword from his cold dead hands at this point. He was even defiant about giving Tanjiro the unfinished sword when it could mean life or death for everyone around him. HE EVEN TRIED TO HARM TANJIRO AFTER spoiler, spoiler, spoiler! This guy don’t fuck around!
The fact that he stands his ground and does his job even when you’ve got an upper-ranked demon threatening him speaks absolute volumes. I’m still intimidated by this man.
He’s hot under the mask too.
ENDING: This season came and went pretty fast. Once we got to the last episode of the season, I thought it was going to be a rush job. But then you see that the final episode has a running time of 51 minutes. Can Tanjiro, Tokitou, and Kanroji manage to kill these upper rank demons causing all of this trouble here?
Tokitou was pretty much on his own for most of his fight with Gyokko. Tokitou was able to overcome poison needles and being drowned to death to defeat this demon. This almost didn’t happen because Tokitou always focused on the bigger picture in the fight. And if it were up to Tokitou, he would just ditch Kotetsu and the other swordsmith villagers to fend off a demon. Tanjiro’s words prior to this showdown resonated with him until uncovering buried memories. After witnessing a terrible tragedy at a young age, it’s no wonder Tokitou suppressed it.
Now for the other big demon. At first, Tanjiro was up against between 1-4 demons. They all represent an emotion and were equally terrifying. But then those demons turned into one demon, Zohakuten. This one demon is a mish-mash of the four demons I just mentioned and caused a lot of damage. But even he is not the upper-rank demon mastermind. Yeah, despite nearly killing Genya, damaging Tanjiro’s eardrums, and almost having Kanroji engulfed, this guy is not the main demon. The upper-ranked demon is this small thing.
Hantengu is about the size of a field mouse and extremely fast. I had my thoughts about this particular demon and if he’s earned the reputation of being an upper-ranked demon. All this demon does is repent, cry, and run away. But the fact that he’s behind the four emotion demons and then-some, he’s something to be feared. Beheading him turned out to be troublesome as he grew in size and almost snapped Tanjiro’s neck in two. Just like with Gyuutaro in the previous season, Tanjiro needed the aid of two swords to do the job (thanks to Haganezuka and Tokitou). And even then, the body is still moving on its own. It can still kill even with no head and the sun is beaming down on his body.
Speaking of which, Nezuko’s a demon right? She can’t be out now that it’s daybreak. Yeah, this fight lasted longer than any of us anticipated that we nearly forgot that fact. Tanjiro was faced with a difficult decision. He wants to protect his sister from being burned by the sun, but he also wants to save these stray villagers that are being chased by the headless Hantengu. Nezuko made the decision for Tanjiro by kicking him off to finish the job. With the flashbacks playing, non-manga readers are wondering if this is the end of Nezuko. Tanjiro finishes off Hantengu and as he tears up at the thought of never seeing Nezuko again, she appears without her bamboo mouth-guard and in tact.
She’s a demon and can survive the sunlight. Convenient and a bit of a game changer! Then again, this series has many moments of convenience.
As per usual, we do see the tragic flashback of the perished demon. But Hantengu wasn’t the only one who got one. Muzan found out about Nezuko being the special demon he’s yearned for that is impervious to the sunlight like every other demon that’s ever existed. Muzan has his usual blood-filled temper-tantrum. But we got to see him from many years past as a sick human that was given certain medicines from a suspicious doctor.
Dammit Demon Slayer, this immediately made me think of Michael Jackson and Conrad Murray. This cannot be a coincidence!
For now, let’s look at the positives of this victory. Kanroji and Tokitou survived without having too many injuries. Nezuko is alive and can speak. Haganezuka gave us a cute tsundere moment at the end. And us fans are treated to another season some time in the future.
What can I tell you that I haven’t said in my prior reviews? Demon Slayer, I like it. It’s not for everyone. Some people think it’s great and others think it’s “mid” with a weak plot and story. Some love it regardless and others think it’s overrated. Some think that the animation is stupendous and others think it’s fucking stupendous. Yeah, that’s the one agreement here is the animation. Despite hearing all of these, I will continue to like Demon Slayer…you know, as long as ufotable doesn’t take any artistic liberties to alter the original content.
This season was just as action-packed and exciting as I anticipated and have come to expect. While I was really enjoying the story of the Swordsmith Village arc, I felt a slight dip in my excitement compared to the Entertainment District arc. But that’s just me! I think there was a lot going on between Tanjiro fighting the demons and all the while seeing Tokitou, Kanroji, and Genya have their backstories told. And now, I’d like some more clarification on Genya and his feral-Bakugo power. Maybe next season! The next season will be known as the “Hashira-Training arc”. I’m sure we’ll get more Genya since his older brother was in the promo visual.
Only this season did I realize that Genya’s brother was played by greatest seiyuu in the world, Tomokazu Seki. How did I not realize this sooner?
As usual, Demon Slayer is available on nearly every platform you can think of including Crunchyroll, Netflix, Hulu, Adult Swim, and FUNimation. But for this particular season, Crunchyroll has it all.
#anime review#demon slayer#demon slayer kimetsu no yaiba#demon slayer swordsmith village arc#tanjiro kamado#nezuko kamado#inosuke hashibira#mitsuri kanroji#muichiro tokito#hotaru haganezuka#obanai iguro#muzan kibutsuji#genya shinazugawa
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abortion and george
Thank you!
Abortion was basically my response to watching What's Up Doc and really wishing Hawkeye suggested an abortion, even though I knew it wouldn't happen. So basically Margaret tests positive and Hawkeye offers to abort it. I didn't get very far, and I believe the idea's been written now so I'm happy to close the book on it, since I don't think I would've finished it anyway. Though one aspect I quite liked was Margaret having a crisis while trying to decide, and letting herself agree to it specifically because Hawkeye suggested it, in a somewhat irrational yet thematically on point "well if Hawkeye's willing to do it then it can't be child-murder," kind of way.
I'm gonna post most of what I have written because it's otherwise never gonna see the light of day lol so might as well:
He couldn’t deny the rush of excitement he felt when he saw the result, but it only took a second for his brain to kick in and sober him up. When he turned to Margaret his smile was gone. “It’s positive,” he said.
“Oh,” Margaret said. “Oh, I -- I see. Oh God.” She took a clumsy step back, hand moving to cradle her head like a hurricane of a headache had just descended on her.
“I’m sorry,” he offered. The U.S. Army losing a valuable officer wasn’t exactly breaking his heart, but the way this would trap her in her marriage -- she deserved more than Donald Penobscott and his mistresses. He didn’t want her to lose her chance for more. “I-” he began, and stumbled. How should he say this?
“It’s all right,” she said. “It’ll be fine. I’ll-” and then she burst into the tears she’d been holding back for days.
Okay, first things first. “Shh,” he said as comfortingly as he knew how, and drew her into his arms. He stood with her and held her for a long time, the chest of his scrubs growing damp with tears and snot. She didn’t have to be mourning her life on him right now, but this was a delicate issue, one he could theoretically lose his license over, or even worse. It wouldn’t hurt to let her get her feelings out before broaching the subject.
Eventually she started to calm down. “Sorry,” she said, face still pressed against him and voice muffled. “I shouldn’t be upset. I’m a woman for god’s sake, I should be happier than you.”
“Hey, look, I get it. I love kids, and if you were ready to have them I’d be throwing you a week long party to celebrate, and two baby showers on top of that. But sometimes it’s just not the right time or place. Or husband.”
“Or all three.” Finally she pulled away. “Well. I suppose I’d better start writing my resignation letter. Will - will you tell Colonel Potter for me? Tell him I’ll discuss it tomorrow?”
It was now or never. “Wait. Completely hypothetically, and please forget I ever said anything if you say no, what if I told him it was negative? And then we... got rid of it?”
Shock painted itself over her face and he braced himself for shouting, but what she said next came out in a frantic whisper. “You mean - an abortion?”
“Yeah. I’ll throw you the party if you want one, but, y’know, you have another option.”
She was speechless for a long, tense moment. Whether she was debating the question or debating whether to slap or punch him, he didn’t know. Her next words were a furious rush. “Where would I get one? Some Korean midwife’s hut? Do you have any herbs in your footlocker I can chew? A knitting needle I can borrow?”
“Margaret, I was offering.”
That stopped her cold. “You can do that?”
“If you want. I used to make a killing in the alley behind”- her expression warned him away like the colors of a poison frog -"Sorry. I did a couple out of my living room during my residency. For friends.” At this point he didn’t think she was going to turn around and report him, but he still winced internally at the thought.
"And you weren't worried about the risk?"
"I kept things sterile."
"I meant -"
"Yeah I know.” He shrugged. “It was worth it. I can’t stand to see a girl cry. You know, one of those friends would’ve ended up on the street if she’d had to tell her parents. She was psyching herself up to stab herself with a kitchen skewer and came to me to ask how to minimize the chances of an infection. I got the story out of her and what else could I do? Hand her a bottle of rubbing alcohol and say, ‘good luck?’”
Margaret was silent for a beat and a half before she said, "That was decent of you."
He grinned, feeling a weight slip off his shoulders. Maybe in other circumstances that revelation would’ve drawn disgust or outrage from her, but politics didn’t seem too important right now. He wanted to help, and Margaret hadn’t slapped his outstretched hand away yet.
***
George is just a half-baked idea like, what if George returns with another injury during BJ's years, Hawkeye shoos BJ off so he can hang out and shoot the shit with him and BJ gets despondent and goes around trying to find out who George even is and why he's not invited, learns from Radar that George is gay and gets sus. All I have written here is a kind of meh conversation imo - I'd offer an excerpt from BJ's pov but that's written down in a notebook, not in my docs lol.
“How do you do it?”
“Well, you take five parts gin, stirred, not shaken, and drink to honour the vermouth’s memory.” He demonstrated that last with a flourish.
George laughed and shook his head. “I mean, how do you get away with it? I let one ‘he’ slip out while drunk and got my ass kicked. But in the last two days you told a corpsman to meet you in the supply room, you told Harry you’ll ask him to the movies when he can walk there, and you threatened to kiss Major Burns.”
“You should see what I do on my days off.” He drained his glass and sighed. “Look, I’m lucky. I was blessed with an eye for the female figure as well, and the total inability to be serious for more than two sentences at a time. I couldn’t keep my tastes a secret if it would end the war tomorrow, but no one’s taken me seriously yet, unless they’ve got the same tastes. But unless you want to study Groucho Marx until you’re phd certified, I don’t think my tricks will help you much. You’re better off staying sober and subtle.”
George looked at his own drink pointedly, and Hawkeye laughed. “Just us girls tonight, you can let loose a little.”
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💐 - I know that looks like a small amount but I’m giving you a bouquet of 12 roses!
🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹
AAAA that is so many but lucky for you, I have at least a hundred WIPs:
The Mystic isn’t a “Glaive bar” in the sense that it was made for them, but in the end, it’s become theirs, a shelter where they can relax, have drinks or something stronger, and everyone turns a blind eye to everything.
_
He slumps back against the bed, his Armiger vanishing with a flash of magic. “Aesta, pet,” he says with a relieved sigh, “What are you doing awake at this hour?”
_
Wesker knows, because of course he does, about Chris being AWOL from the very division he helped to build, and how badly his last mission had gone before he vanished into the night with nothing more than the clothes on his back and a traumatic brain injury.
_
We tried to bury ‘em under the shale, but that didn’t last near as long as we’d hoped before they came crawlin’ out, all scraped to hell and missing limbs, not that it stopped any of ‘em.
_
Someone with wandering hands, who didn’t listen to the message he was given when Valeria turned him down - whose history of those wandering hands was kept quiet because it would ruin his family’s good name - ends up dead, with ruby lipstick on his throat and poison bubbling up between his lips as he chokes to death on his own blood.
_
The thing that is not Prompto smiles as it cocks its head, rubbing the back of its neck, the way Prompto always did.
_
This is another part of Leon’s heats that he loves - it’s so easy to give him what he craves, without Leon fighting it every step of the way, because he doesn’t think he deserves it, or he shouldn’t have it, or whatever else is going on in that pretty head.
_
Nyx grins and gives chase, reaching out with fingers tingling with adrenaline and magic, kukri singing in his hands as they clash with Noctis’s blade, both of them dancing in and out of warps and across the training fields.
_
Cor might be using his authority as the Marshal for the order, but the look he levels at Leo is exactly the same one he used to give when Leo would try to sneak out and meet his friends on school nights.
_
He kisses like he’s dying for it, hungry and all-consuming, and it’s all Cor can do to cling to him and chase the taste of ozone.
_
She stops at the corner shrine first, bowing her head to the statue of Etro before she lights the candles and incense.
_
Nyx’s back hits the wall, and every coherent thought escapes him as she tugs him down into a kiss with her fingers buried in his hair.
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“ You know.. the harder you stare at the letters, the more difficult it will be to make a decision.” Her voice whispered in on the cool evening breeze, as Serena emerged from the darkest corner of the room, spotting her sister perplexed and tired. Katherine smiled warmly reaching out to hug her sister, she had been desperately waiting for her to pop in for a visit.
“ Where have you been, what new things have you learned tell me things.” Serena patted her sisters cheeks gently “ My house caught on fire and so did all of my things” she extended into a full smile, half laughing and half crying. “ it was mainly books, and things I’ve collected over the years. All the valuable stuff is at momma’s..”
“ We should do something, who do I arrest, they can’t burn your house down, how many people were injured, we should be sending them help. Why are you laughing about this, you should be angry!” Katherine began to shake her sister shoulders, confused and ready to cut didn’t the entire forest to end this madness.
“ Kitty, you would be going up against someone much older, and more stronger than you. I am not saying you shouldn’t voice your concerns, nor am I saying you should sit and allow things to happen. It’s just a house. But, yes, your little mind is on the right track you should send a team of healers and help repair the small village that was out there. Many were burned, many have lost their loved ones. This has been a battle created long before you born.. you need to think carefully how you want to handle things. You can’t charge into everything.”
No one would believe, Serena had turned into the reasonable and considerate one. But she had did a good job, in keeping her sister hidden and safe for most of her life, this was the first time, Katherine had peaked out of the shadows and skirts of others and could lead. “ Don’t call me Kitty.. “ she whispered faintly, only her mother was allowed to call her that. Serena might have been allowed her time to create chaos and destruction; but she never forgave Ariella for her cruel impact she had on her family.
It cost her, her mother, her father, and her brother, and she vowed when she reached the stairs of power. She would make everyone involved, suffer for their crimes. “ Your not here for me are you.” She sighed snuggling beside her sister in the bed. “ Someone needs you, you know one day I might actually just want you around.”
Serena titled her head, leaning against Katherine “ Thomas asked me to mend a weapon, that belongs to Morgan. Caspian needs my help, so I’ll do it.” As she nudged Katherine “ You know if you ever really needed me, I would be there just like that.” She snapped her fingers. “ Plus, I might of overheard a conversation about you negotiating a deal with Rovan. Did you really ask for that much money?”
Katherine jumped as the nudge, as she confirmed in laughter “ I was testing his balls, I wanted to see how much she was worth. If they are willing to pay that much money, that clearly she’s as dangerous as Bianca says. I know it was a lot, but you should have been there, Luca won’t even look at me and then he summoned his girlfriend to stare at me the whole time. That little weasel, can you poison him or something. He doesn’t deserve to breathe the same air as me.”
Serena rolled her eyes “ oh god, you sound just like I did, when I was your age. Only I was burning down villages and kidnapping Aviva brother for revenge. Do you want know what I learned after years of trying to punish Caspian?”
Katherine perked up “ yes, please.”
“ It didn’t make me feel any better, instead of getting mad, I was just getting sad. I was sad the person I knew wasn’t mine anymore. I was sad, everything I believed in, was gone. I used my emotions to really hurt people, and I lost everything because of it. If I was you, I would be hard on Luca, your his boss in a way. But, there no point in trying to make him suffer, because he met Layla and fell in love with her. That was his world..” she frowned as Layla, at one point was a promising adversary.
“ He was my world..” Katherine mumbled back, as she wrapped both arms around her sister squeezing her tight. ” I’ll be firm, and I’ll be hard on him. But I can not promise I won’t make his life difficult. Just promise you’ll be there to defend me.” She lifted her pinky up to her.
Serena took it “ I don’t think anyone’s stupid enough to try anything with you, but if they are, I’ll be there.” tugging their pinky together.
#softer side of Serena
#drake sisters
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