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renaerys · 3 years

Note

22. for reds 🤡

This is 100% not what you asked for (yet...👀), but I give you part 1 of what we're calling the Weird King AU. I'm turning this into a proper multi-chapter High School fic because I love you and I'd jump on any bandwagon for you.

xxx

Like most young, conventionally attractive Supervillains, Brick had made a bit of a habit of failing upwards. It was pretty easy in a town full of simpering morons content to project their own narrative assumptions onto him, and who was he to crush their dreams when they made his life a little easier?

For example, dating.

“You can tell me, you know.” His cute date, Tracy, sipped her milkshake across from him.

“Tell you what?”

She softened and reached her hand across the table. “Your tragic backstory. I’ll listen without judgment, I promise.”

Brick tried to think of something tragic, but it all seemed pretty underwhelming as far as Supervillain origin stories went. “You mean like how I was born in a toilet?”

She made an oh shape with her lips. “We all have those days where we feel like we were born in a toilet, Brick.”

He’d dated Tracy for three months before she broke up with him out of the blue in tears: sorry she couldn’t fix his baggage, she just wasn’t strong enough to handle all that tortured darkness, but she wished him nothing but health and happiness. Brick deleted her number from his phone and spent twenty whole minutes staring at the toilet in his bathroom, wondering what the lesson here was.

But everything changed when Mojo got out of prison and moved Brick and his brothers back to Townsville, where he enrolled them in the local high school alongside their former arch nemeses, the Powerpuff Girls.

Suddenly, everything Brick did pre-supposed ill intent. These people remembered him as the pest who had graffitied their local monuments and blown up their cars and endangered their children. They held no love for him, and at best they feared him. This was not Citiesville, where he’d been a tall, cold glass of Voss water in a sea of recycled Dasani.

He found himself thinking about his birthing toilet again as he stepped into the cafeteria alone and the conversation quieted down as his new classmates watched him from the safety of their tables. His next moves here were critical. He was no longer at the top of the food chain, but fear and mystery surrounding his origins and character gave him a certain power over his peers.

“Yea, though I walk through the valley of social suicide, I will fear no cringe,” he said to himself.

The jocks were out. Capable though he may be, Brick was not much of a team player unless there was a blood contract involved requiring his participation on pain of satanic torture. The drama kids were also a hard pass, not because he thought drama was lame, but because they had barely noticed him walk in, and Brick did not have the energy to deal with people more self-involved than himself. Some of the unaffiliated tables could be safe, but without a good understanding of the nuanced social dynamics in the high school, he could be heading toward irreversible doom, and that was a risk he was not willing to take.

He saw his salvation just ahead. It was the only option, all else being equal. In an environment where he couldn’t be certain of his baseline status and potential for upward mobility, there was greatness to be had only by association and certainty only in the devil he knew.

Brick helped himself to the empty seat directly across from Blossom Utonium to a chorus of gasps and staring.

Blossom did not startle like her table mates had. She watched him critically behind a head full of bangs as she balanced her soup spoon in her hand. “Really.”

Brick unwrapped the burrito he’d purchased in the lunch line and brandished it before him. “Really.”

He took a bite of the burrito. It was not hot enough. The two girls to Blossom’s left whispered to each other about that bad boy and he’s hot, though.

Blossom daintily spooned soup into her mouth without spilling a single drop as she continued to watch Brick for signs of his imminent dark side transformation.

The guy next to Brick was brave enough to ask him what his next class was. Brick had a mouth full of disappointing burrito, so he passed the guy the printout of his class schedule in lieu of answering.

“Wow, all APs, huh? Hey, we’re in U.S. History together next period, nice. I’m Mike Believe, by the way. Brick Jojo, right?��

Brick didn’t answer him immediately on account of the burrito currently occupying his mouth hole, and Mike took it the wrong way.

“Oh, yeah, we all know who you are. Blossom sort of filled us in.” He winced like he’d inadvertently revealed a terrible secret.

Brick swallowed his food and washed it down with a gulp of water. “Saves me some time.”

Mike looked super relieved. “For sure! Hey, I could lend you my notes if you want to catch up. Gershwin’s giving a quiz on the Progressive Era on Friday, and she’s a hard-ass who definitely won’t care that you just transferred…”

Brick chewed on his lunch as Mike continued to talk at him about classes and other vaguely helpful, albeit uninteresting, information. But Mike seemed normal enough, a little chatty but not in an overeager sort of way. Blossom was no longer clocking his every move and seemed to be absorbed in her friend’s latest swim team cheating scandal, until Brick reached for his water bottle and she suddenly laser-focused on his wandering hand.

Her keen attention to him was honestly flattering, if expected. It was in his nature to be noticed, and in this narrow respect she was no different from anyone else whose head he turned. If she chose to feed her interest with the flames of suspicion, then it was no difference to him.

But if she was anything like him—and on a chemical level she was probably the closest to him that a person could get—he suspected it took tremendous effort to hold her full and sustained attention. The world they inhabited was as vapid and mundane as the humans that surrounded them, and even the most gracious of gods grew bored of worship. Which explained all the smiting and fucking and generational curses upon entire households in everything from Greek mythology to the Old Testament.

Brick was pretty deep into a fantasy of Blossom going full Ixion and the Wheel on the swim team when Mike tapped his shoulder. “You ready to go?”

It took him a moment to realize the bell had rung and he had a class to get to—AP U.S. History with Mike, apparently. Brick gathered his tray and his bag and followed Mike. When he looked back at the table, Blossom was already gone.

xxx

That whole first week was painfully boring. No one bullied him, or pranked him, or picked a fight with him, of course. But no one really approached him, either. His brothers were more determined to make an effort. Boomer announced he was trying out for the soccer team because there was no rule saying a Super with extremely well documented ties to active criminals and the forces of Hell couldn’t kick a ball around a field. Butch had gotten himself invited to a midnight screening of Snakes on a Plane in some rich kid’s home movie theater, but only after that same kid had accidentally spilled milk on Butch and burst into tears in front of a cafeteria full of Juniors and Seniors. Brick declined the invitation Butch extended to him. He had that AP U.S. History exam to study for on Friday, anyway.

He shared all of his classes with Blossom. Even in the classes where her assigned seat was behind his and he couldn’t see her, he could feel her lobotomizing stare at the back of his head whenever she glanced up from her notebook. And while Mike’s notes were perfectly adequate and the friendly gesture counted for more than the content (a gesture Brick would not soon forget), there was a far more efficient way to accomplish his goal of murdering the class averages while also taking the edge off his loner doldrums.

“Can I borrow your class notes?”

Blossom rose from her seat and pulled her hair tie out to re-do her extremely long ponytail. She held the elastic between her teeth as she worked. Her teeth were very straight, he noticed. Some pretty nice girl-teeth, generally speaking.

“Which class?”

“All of them.”

He watched her wind the elastic around her hair with quick, adroit fingers. “That’s a lot of notes.”

“You’re the top of every class. No point in asking anyone else.”

She moved toward the hall. He followed her out. “Why would I help you?”

A legitimate question delivered without venom. Unlike her sister Buttercup, who’d “run into” Brick after school on Monday and told him to watch his back, Blossom didn’t have to do anything but maintain a general proximity to make her superiority complex known. Which was the kind of flex he could fuck with.

“Isn’t helping people sort of your mandate?”

They had arrived at her locker, which she opened with enough force to rattle the hinges. “I help the helpless. Are you helpless, Brick?”

Brick smiled at her baiting. Had she ever actually said his name at a normal volume before? It sounded good even in her baseline bitch timbre. “Critically helpless. I’m the new student who transferred in the middle of the semester, and you’re the only person who knows me.”

A couple other students clearly trying to get to the lockers Brick was blocking hovered just out of reach. They whispered to each other, but neither of them actually worked up the courage to ask Brick to move. He ignored them.

Blossom rummaged in her locker for the binder she would need for the next class. “Make friends.”

“Working on it.”

The locker door slammed and she faced him. There was something confrontational in the way she held herself before him that kicked him in the nuts back in time thirteen years to their more uncouth days when all he wanted to do was destroy her so he’d be the only one. Now they were older and wiser and he actually did need her notes to study, so destroying her was not high on his list of priorities.

“You want to be my friend.”

“We have so much in common.”

“So do lions and hyenas.”

“Both are apex predators, so.”

She took a step closer and peered up at him. Brick did not move, although he wondered what was so interesting about his face. She probably just thought he was hot. She was probably as bored as he was. She probably—

“You have lettuce in your teeth.”

Brick pulled back and covered his mouth on instinct. God fucking damnit.

Blossom was already walking away from him by the time he’d picked the food from his teeth. “I’ll expect my notes back in mint condition before first period tomorrow morning.”

Brick pressed a fist against the lockers and quietly fumed. “Dumbass…”

“Um, sorry, but do you mind…?”

The student who’d been waiting for her locker space to clear up had her palms up as if to assuage a feral stray. Brick pushed off the lockers, but his fist left a dent where he’d unleashed some of his impotent self-pity. He looked back at the girl, and she shook her head.

“It’s fine! It, uh, it happens sometimes.” She pointed a couple lockers down to Blossom’s, which was dinged up worse than the others.

Brick stared at Blossom’s locker, and then back at the girl. Her narrow, dark eyes were wide, but not out of fear. She was waiting for something, and like an idiot it took him a moment to catch up. “You’re trying to make me feel better about fucking up your locker.”

She laughed nervously. “I mean, it’s really fine! You just looked so miserable for a second there, and I just thought…”

Great, he was moping so hard he had an audience.

The five minute warning bell rang, and a flood of students rushed past them on their way to fourth period. Brick stepped aside so the girl could get to her locker.

“Hey, you’re the new guy, right?”

The new guy, yeah. How quaint. Except, she was waiting for a response, which wasn’t the absolute worst thing that had happened to him all week.

“Brick,” he said. But of course, she already knew that, and she was just being nice.

“I’m Kim. Kim Chan.”

“Okay.” He didn’t have anything else to say to her, so he decided to get his shit and get to his next class.

“Welcome back to Townsville, Brick.”

Brick shoved his hands in his pockets and stalked off. It didn’t occur to him until later that Kim was the first and only person who had properly welcomed him back home.

#powerpuff girls #powerpuff girls fanfic #blossick #ppg reds #ppg blossom #ppg brick #september fic prompts #weird king au #i have no idea what i will call this yet #but it'll make its way to AO3 and it'll be a Thing #i have to think of themes and shit now #i came here to shit post and here we are with another full on Reds fic

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youarejesting · 3 years

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Sly like a... ? Part 6

[Master list] [Sly Master List] Beta: n/a (at the moment) Rating: All Pairing: Hybrid!BTS x FailedHybrid!Reader Genre: Hybrid au, fluff, action, adventure, angst, drama, slice of life. Some marked chapters will contain mature/smut scenes, BUT they will not have plot in those scenes and are 100% skippable without losing your place in the story. Words: 1.8k

Summary: Human’s strive to be better, faster and stronger looking to animal DNA. Thus Hybrids are born. As the rise for designer and Pedigree Hybrids increase, so do the failed attempts. There is one species scientists are unsuccessful in creating, but, folklore says they have been here all along, hiding and blending in with the humans for many millennia. How clever they are.

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There had been a moment when Taehyung seemed almost reluctant to leave, as if he was having fun with the hybrids around his age and you couldn’t blame him. He had spent his life with older people who didn’t really do anything particularly thrilling.

But the night ended without any fights from any of the hybrids so you considered that a bonus. They were slowly becoming more accustomed to the other presence and though there were a few small shoves, hisses or choice words, all in all they were being polite.

Sitting at the dining table talking with Jimin about your plan tomorrow at the shopping centre, he was very close, you knew it was a dominance thing, that he knew you the longest and he was unintentionally rubbing it in the other hybrid’s faces. Seeing Jungkook’s eyes barely staying awake you wished him good night with a hug and told him to get some sleep.

Yoongi was slinking around looking like he wanted to say or ask something but waiting for you to be alone. Seokjin and Namjoon both headed off to bed and Jimin reached over taking your hand. “How are you feeling?” he asked, his brows creasing in the same concern that laced his words, “you keep making sure we are okay, that no one has asked you?”

“I’m good,” you admitted with a smile, “how are you taking this?”

“You know I am used to it, we grew up in hybrid homes just like this one,” Jimin laughed, “gives me a bit of nostalgia.”

“The only thing that is unsettling at the moment is the smell of the carpet, it is driving me mental?” you laughed, “that bleach not only burns it just makes the place feel empty.”

“I know what you mean, but if you would like I can scent the house?” he wiggled his eyebrows. “like we used to?”

“Jimin we were children running around naked was okay back then now it would be weird,” you scoffed, pushing him away, “go to bed.”

“You want to sleep in my room?” he pouted, “there is no need to be a martyr”

“Thanks but, I am going to stay up a little later and work out some things.” Jimin walked into the hall eyeing the older hybrid and gave a deliberate, let me know if you need anything spiel.

“Hey Yoongi, is something wrong?” you smiled patting the seat beside you, he hesitantly sat on the seat keeping his distance. He seemed to mull over his thoughts and choose his words carefully before he attempted to speak.

“When I was in University the first time, I was studying psychology, I wanted to help young hybrids,” you repressed a squeal he was opening up and you were so proud, “I was wondering, if there is a chance I could continue that course? I still want to help other hybrids like myself.”

“Of course, that is perfect, I can get you ready I will get your folders and work transferred over and we can have you started in no time, they might ask you to do an entrance exam so if you don’t mind I can give you a little refresher with the other boys and then you will be all set, all the Uni classes are online, so you don’t have to worry about transport and it’s all paid for so money isn’t an option either.”

“I don’t like free things” he played with his sleeves, “I much rather get things on my own”

“Well, if you would like I can give you pocket money everyday and you can save it so that you don’t feel helpless. Let’s say accompanying me grocery shopping, I could wash up the dishes and you could dry and little things like that and I can give you... uh, fifty dollars a week,”

“That is too much,” He said, shaking his head, “not when you are also paying room and board. That is way too much and I don’t want to take more of your money”

“It’s not my money, you forget, I am living free here as well,” you laughed, standing up and holding out your hand. He took it and you walked him to his room, “please don’t stress Yoongi, I promise you I am not as scary as I look, you are safe and I want you to feel safe and if that means you have a little money box under your bed than let’s do it”

Yoongi laughed, “You aren’t scary at all”

“I don’t know if you had seen her dancing this evening, that was scary,” Hoseok called from his room. He was a very easy going guy, he liked to hear the others better so he left the door open. It must be hard coming from the country with night noises and lots of hybrids snoring to a place that is genuinely quiet with the occasional sound of a car and his own room.

“Alright Yoongi time for bed, I am here now so I hope you like being tucked in?” you walked him to his bed and pulled the blankets up to his chin and you could hear the purs as you pet his head.

“I want to be tucked in too,” Jungkook wined down the end of the hall, and you froze as the chorus of me too filled the hall. Rolling your eyes you stood up pressing a kiss to Yoongi’s forehead and stepping out.

“Fine, let me start with Jin, you want to be tucked in?” You grinned and the oldest hybrid nodded vigorously from his bed. You made the rounds and visited every room, Namjoon announced he was already tucked in and would accept a good night. He was acting proud but you thought to try anyway. “your blankets are askew, let me help, you can’t be tucked in if your blanket is all wonky”

The excuse worked and he purred deep in his chest as you pet his head and kissed his forehead. Hoseok made you laugh and requested multiple kisses but received a “Don’t be greedy,” from his neighbor Jimin.

Jimin gave you his signature eye smile that you just knew was there even without your superior night vision. You thought about it and a lot of the hybrids in the house were nocturnal giving reason to their late bedtimes and keen senses in the dark. You weren’t too sure about Hoseok and Taehyung so that would be something to google before bed.

Stepping up to Jimin’s bed he grinned, “Tuck me in,” he declared his arms out as if he was getting a hug.

“Okay but you have to lay down and stop squirming,” you reprimanded, making him still long enough to tuck him in placing a kiss on his forehead with a pat, his hands holding his tail as he always did when he slept. “You still hold your tail when you sleep”

He blushed and turned away, “I dunno it’s comfy”

“It’s cute, have a good night” you walked on to the last room where Jungkook was standing at his door obviously having gotten impatient. You walked him to his bed and sat beside him as he got comfortable.

“y/n, I love being here and I don’t want you to give me up but, I miss my family, I barely remember anything about my mother I can’t even remember what she looked like, all I remember is she smelt like clean cotton and sunny days” He said a few tears in his eyes.

Wiping his eyes he sniffed, “I wanted to be cool for you, but I am just a big baby” he whined, “Can you stay with me until I fall asleep, sing me a song or tell me a story?”

“Alright, get comfortable and I will tell you a story koo” tucking him in you opened your mouth when he grabbed your hand, “Is something wrong?”

“You have to give me a goodnight kiss too, while I am awake or I won’t feel it” he gave a big cheeky grin and you laughed brushing his bangs to the side and pressing a small kiss on his forehead. “Alright I am ready”

“This was a story that I was told when I was young,” you shuffled onto the bed more, “in japan there are monsters and mythical creatures called yokai…”

“Yokai were sometimes even gods they could be good and they could be bad, the kitsune was a yokai, they said when a fox grew to a certain age they would be able to transform into humans” Felix spoke cleaning some of the toys off your bed.

“Like Hybrids!” You giggled, jumping on your bed, your stuffed toy under your arm, Felix tackled you onto your pillow and grinned, tucking you in and switching off the light. He reached over to turn on a small night light. “Or like the other story where they peel off their skin?”

“Alright, I admit it was a mistake to tell you that, are you still having nightmares?” he sighed rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “I still haven’t been let off babysitting duty because of that, the earful Astrid gave me”

You laughed at his dramatic shiver, she wasn’t that scary, but Felix always seemed to think so. “If you know so many stories about fox hybrids then why did they make me, if they were already out there?”

“That is the thing little Kit, they aren’t hybrids” his smile was big and his eyes gleamed mischievously. “They are huli jing, kitsune and kumiho, they aren’t hybrids. These are special beings; foxes with the ability to transform into humans, they are special.”

“If they can disguise themselves as humans how do you know they exist, have you seen one?” you were ever curious to know more about fox related things it made you feel like you were getting to know more about yourself and why you did the things you do”

“Humans can’t see them unless they wish to show themselves to them first, but they can see each other, they can’t hide from one another,” he hummed

“Are you a fox person Felix?” the memory of the other night in your head when you thought you saw two tails and some ears attached to him.

“I am just Felix and you young lady are up past your bedtime. So lay still so I can tell the story.”

“The fox breathed fire burning the forest and when their emotions calmed they saw the town destroyed and the woman the fox man had loved had died from the flames along with her new husband” you whispered, Jungkook’s little snores were cute and you readjusted the blanket and gave him another kiss on the forehead before retreating to the living room couch.

A thought passed by about perhaps using Taehyung’s room but you thought it was best to not invade his privacy, that was his safe place and your scent would ruin that. The thought didn’t last long as you were soon out cold from exhaustion.

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radiantroope · 4 years

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Lonely Heart || Rafe Cameron

Chapter Three - Loose Stitches

chapter summary: What was supposed to be a fun day out on the Druthers takes a turn when you find out the secret everyone’s been keeping from you. Rafe and Topper have a tough conversation.

warnings: minor alcohol consumption, swearing, angst, a bit of fluff

word count: 3.3k+

author’s note: and so it begins. there’s a scene in here that i’m not 100% happy with but i couldn’t re-write it again because i was over it lol. i feel the need to point out that topper and y/n are completely platonic, he’s not pining after her. ok enjoy, and please let me know what you think!

read chapter two here!

series playlist | series masterlist | main masterlist

Your first week back in the OBX had gone without incident. You went to your mother’s chemo treatment with her and sat by her side, holding her hand as you read from a magazine. You hung out with Topper and Kelce at one or the other’s houses and spent some time on the beach. You spent the night with Sarah, who was fully offended you went to see Topper first instead of her, and officially met her boyfriend John B. You and the Pogue knew of each other but had never truly spoken. He wasn’t too keen on you at first until he realized you weren’t like all the other Kooks who stood behind the rivalry.

Janelle had texted you, asking if you were home and a short apology about your mother. She had said she was returning home soon as well and had so much to tell you. You weren’t sure if you were exactly excited to see her and have her drown you in information, especially about Rafe. You’d told her okay but were making plans left and right to try and book up your days so you didn’t have to see her before you were ready.

One of those plans was a day out on the Druthers. Ward had invited your parents and you, of course. You dragged Topper into joining you, not wanting to be a third wheel with Sarah. Wheezie was seventeen now and didn’t follow you or her sister around anymore. He made a fuss about having to be around his ex girlfriend and her insufferable boyfriend, but he couldn’t say no to you — especially when you promised to purchase all of the kegs for his next house party since he was still underage.

When you arrived at the Cameron’s and made your way down to the yacht, you could hear the chatter and laughter of many people. They were all older, friend’s of Ward and Rose and your parents. Some of them you recognized from your going away party and they congratulated you on obtaining your Bachelor’s, gushing to your parents about ‘raising such a fine young woman’. You made your rounds talking to everyone, took the Pacifico Ward offered you, and dragged Topper to the front of the boat.

“If one more person asks me if I’ve seen any celebrities while in Cali, I’m gonna scream,” you grumbled before taking a long swig of the cold beer.

Topper laughed loudly and leaned against the side of the boat, raising one of his fluffy eyebrows, “Well… Have you?”

You pressed your lips together tightly and made a small screaming sound in the back of your throat, swinging your arm and smacking the sandy blonde on the chest. He laughed again, slinking away from your swinging arm. You heard Ward say you’d be leaving soon, just waiting on two more people to arrive.

You took another swig of your beer and fell into conversation with Topper, Sarah and John B. joining you after a beat. They asked how college life was on the West coast and if you’d made any friends. You had, but none of them compared to the people you knew at home. They’d texted a couple of times to check in on you but that was the extent of it. They were shocked to hear you’d held a ten minute conversation with Brad Pitt at a bar and ran into Elizabeth Olsen a handful of times at your favorite Cafe, because yes, you had met celebrities but you weren’t one to brag.

“If you can hook me up with the Scarlet Witch, I’ll marry you right now,” Topper said, eyes wide and completely straight faced.

“Okay, that doesn’t make sense—”

You’re cut off by the sound of Ward’s voice when he playfully says, “There the lovebirds are! Late as usual!”

Your back is turned and Topper and Sarah see it before you. As you go to turn around, the taller boy wraps his arm around your neck, pulling you into his side. Sarah tries to think of something to say to keep your attention on her, stuttering and waving her hands. John B. just looks confused, staring bewilderingly at his girlfriend then glancing at you and Topper.

“Why are y’all being so weird?!” you exclaim, shoving a hand on Topper’s chest to get him off of you.

You spin around before you can be stopped again and your blood runs cold. Your heart hammers in your chest, pounding painfully against your rib cage. You don’t realize your beer has slipped from your grasp until it shatters on the deck, glass flying at your feet. Everyone’s attention turns to you, but you’re staring at the two people who just stepped aboard the boat. Their hands were linked together and the smiles they’d been wearing fell. Your stomach lurched, the lunch you’d had before coming threatening to resurface.

Rafe’s eyes were wide and his face visibly paled as he stared at you. The expression on his face was unreadable and the look his eyes matched. Janelle stepped away from him, her hand coming up as she started to say something to you. Your ears were ringing so loudly you could hear her. Your eyes caught on her left hand, a massive rock sitting on her ring finger, sparkling in the sun.

You felt someone’s hands on you, you didn’t know who, trying to shake you and bring you back to Earth. As realization dawned on you, you turned suddenly, leaning over the side of the Druthers and emptying the contents of your stomach into the ocean. You gasped for breath, tears burning in your eyes from the act of throwing up and the situation itself. Your body started shaking, all of the different emotions hitting you at once and overwhelming you.

“Breathe, Y/N,” Sarah says, pulling your hair out of your face. She glances at Topper who rubs his face and shakes his head. You weren’t supposed to find out this way — none of them wanted you to find out this way. If they had known Rafe would be there, they would have skipped on the boat day and taken you somewhere else.

“Y/N..” you hear Janelle’s hesitant voice, feel her hand on your arm.

You flinched away as if she burned you, into Sarah’s arms, hissing, “Don’t touch me.”

The raven haired girl’s face fell, hands falling limp at her sides. Your head was spinning and your thoughts were moving a thousand miles a second. You could see everyone looking between you, whispering, like this was going to be the hottest gossip on the island. Your mother stood and went to reach for you but you shrank out of the way, out of Sarah’s arms.

Without another word, you made a beeline for the exit of the boat. You caught Rafe’s eye again for half a second, a pained expression on his face as he talked quietly with Ward. You rushed out of the yacht and practically ran up the dock towards Tannyhill, ignoring the calls of your name from behind you. You were choking on your own breath, trying to fight off the tears burning in your eyes.

“Y/N, please, stop,” Topper panted as he finally reached you up by the house.

You scoffed as you turned to look at him and saw your parents as well as Sarah following behind him. You went into the house and began searching for your mother’s purse so you could take the car. Your hands were shaking, a few tears slipping down your cheeks that you wiped away roughly.

“Honey, please,” your mother’s voice was soft, hands grabbing onto your arms to stop your frantic movements.

“You all knew!” you shouted, bottom lip quivering.

“We didn’t know they were coming,” Sarah said softly, nervously twisting her fingers together.

“That’s not what I’m talking about,” you snapped in response, eyes holding a fire none of them had seen in a long time. You shrugged yourself out of your mother’s grasp, sitting down in a chair in the main living room. You put your head in your hands and asked, “how long?”

Sarah glanced around at the others before saying, “Three and a half years, engaged for almost one.”

“You’re fucking kidding me.”

“They begged me not to tell you,” Topper admitted, mentally kicking himself for agreeing to keep his mouth shut. Rafe may have been his best friend, but so were you. Sarah nodded, silently saying they’d done the same to her. “They said they wanted to tell you themselves.”

“I haven’t spoken to Rafe in five years!” you shouted, throwing your arm up. You tried to keep more tears from falling as you allowed everything to sink in. You’d been bottling up everything you felt for so long it was starting to spill over. Everyone but Topper looked shocked, clearly not knowing the full extent of your damaged relationship with Rafe. They didn’t know he’d cut you off all together, they just thought you didn’t talk as much, drifted apart a little.

“After Thanksgiving, he stopped calling. He stopped answering my texts. We haven’t seen each other since my going away party,” your voice broke at the end, tears steadily flowing down your face at this point. Though, you quickly became angry as you thought about the other person involved. You spit, “Janelle and I talked once a week. I should have known something was up when all she would talk about was Rafe. She never mentioned they were dating, let alone engaged!”

“Your mother and I didn’t want to hurt you, sweetie. It didn’t feel like our place to say anything,” your father said, walking over and wrapping his arms around your shoulders. He knew there was more to the story than you were willing to say. They didn’t know how much turmoil you’d been going through the last five years and he felt horrible for not noticing.

You knew it was partially your fault for not saying anything. Maybe this all would have played out differently if you had just been honest and told everyone you and Rafe weren’t even friends anymore, as much as it hurt to admit. Maybe Ward wouldn’t have invited you or would have given you a heads up that his son was coming. Maybe Sarah would have told you Rafe and Janelle were dating and you could have confronted her sooner. Maybe you should have confessed your love to him that day sitting on your bed before you left.

There was no way to change what happened. Like your mother had said, you can’t dwell on the past, you have to live in the present. The sad reality was that Rafe was engaged, to someone who was supposed to be your best friend, and there was no chance you’d tell him how you felt now. He’d gone five years without you and clearly had no intentions to keep you in his life. You had to accept that.

“I just want to go home,” you whispered into your father’s shoulder, holding back a sob.

“I’ll walk with you,” Topper quickly offered, stepping forward, “I wasn’t too keen on his boat day anyway.”

Sarah walked over as you stood up, wrapping her arms around you tightly. She stroked her hand over your back and mumbled, “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay. You didn’t know,” you replied, pulling back and taking her cheeks in your hands. You pressed a kiss to the younger girl’s forehead and teased, “I still love you.”

You mother and father both hugged you tightly. You knew they couldn’t skip on this day with Ward, especially now that they had to do damage control for your actions in front of their friends. You mother kissed your cheek and gave you a soft smile, “We’ll talk more about this later, yeah?”

You nodded, allowing Topper to wrap his arm around your shoulders and guide you out the front door. The two of you walked in silence, his arm stayed around you, keeping you close. You felt comfortable but your mind was still reeling. You looked up at him, his indigo eyes meeting your bloodshot ones.

“I’ll still buy you those kegs,” you said, trying to lighten the mood.

The boisterous laugh that erupted from Topper’s mouth made you smile slightly. It had taken a long time to mend the broken and cracked pieces of your heart — you thought you’d finally stitched it whole again. The further and further you got from Tannyhill, you could feel the stitches coming loose, the cracks in your heart re-breaking.

—

“You said you talked to her. You told me she was okay with this!” Rafe tried to keep his voice level, not wanting to cause more of a scene on the Druthers. He’d pulled Janelle to the interior of the boat, down into the hallway and away from the prying eyes of his father’s friends. The look your mother had sent him when she came back made his gut twist, your father’s expression was unreadable.

“I was going to tell her when I saw her in person! I didn’t think she’d be here!” Janelle argued, crossing her arms over her chest. “We’ve been keeping us a secret for so long there’s not an easy way to drop that bomb on her!”

Rafe sighed frustratedly and ran a hand through his hair, ruining the slicked back look he’d achieved with the gel. He chewed on his bottom lip, staring at the wall in thought. “Maybe I should go talk to her,” he decided, going to move past Janelle and leave the boat.

“No!” Janelle exclaimed, grabbing onto her fiancé’s arm. “It’s been five years, Rafe. Don’t you think if she wanted to talk, she would have when she saw us? The best thing we can do right now is give her space.”

Rafe knew she was right. He knew he was the last person you wanted to see. He felt his stomach sink at what Janelle said next, “Besides, she obviously left with Topper.”

Topper. His best friend. He remembered after your move Janelle telling him how closely you and Topper remained. After Rafe stopped speaking to you, he took his place. He was the one you called multiple times throughout the week. He was the one you FaceTimed with on Saturday’s. He was the one you spent time with when you visited in the Summer. Jealousy bubbled in his stomach hearing that all those years ago, now the thought just made him sad. Did he make the right choice cutting you off to mend his own heart? Did it make you move on to his best friend instead?

“Come on, honey,” Janelle’s voice broke him from his thoughts as she tugged in his hand. She grinned up at him and leaned up to kiss his cheek. “Rose wants to talk wedding plans.”

Rafe smiled and nodded, allowing his fiancée to lead him back out on the main deck. He looked over to where Sarah was cleaning up the glass from the bottle you dropped. John B. was quietly asking her what happened and why you left. Sarah simply shook her head, locking eyes with her brother. She gave him a disappointed frown and retreated into the boat to dispose of the glass.

—

Topper had stayed with you at your house, quietly moving about your room as you napped in your bed. The events that had taken place took a lot out of you. You’d cried some more when you got there, mourning your broken friendships. He laid with you, stroking your hair and whispering a thousand apologies as you sobbed. There was nothing he could say to make it better, but he still tried.

When your parents got home, they peeked into your bedroom. You were still fast asleep, curled with your back to the door and facing the window. Topper sat at the edge of the bed, flipping through the old photo album you still hadn��t touched. There were hundreds, possibly thousands of pictures in there — of him and Kelce, your parents, Sarah and Wheezie, Janelle, but mostly of you and Rafe. Your smile would put the sun to shame with how brightly it shined. The stars in the night sky would be envious of the sparkle your eyes held as you looked at Rafe in the photos. It was painfully obvious how in love you’d been with him back then, if only the boy himself had known.

Your parents thanked him for staying with you, promising to have you call him later that night. He made his way home, heart heavy in chest. He hated being in the middle of his two best friend’s — torn between two sides. How was he supposed to split his time with both of you? He knew you’d be understanding, tell him it was fine because Rafe is his friend. He knew Rafe would have a fit, say he was choosing you over him. As if you all hadn’t known each other the same amount of time. As if he had an upper hand because they were ‘the boys’.

“Where have you been? I’ve been waiting for hours,” Rafe’s gruff voice asked from the couch. He had a glass of Topper’s mother’s scotch sitting on the table in front of him. The blonde had seen his truck in the driveway, expecting him to be in that exact position.

“I was at Y/N’s,” Topper replied with a shrug, dropping his keys in the bowl by the front door and kicking off his shoes.

Rafe’s hard demeanor softened a bit at your name. His eyes flashed with a look Topper couldn’t pinpoint before turning cold again. He had every intention of showing up here and genuinely asking if you were okay. He knew he’d hurt you before and even more so now that he was engaged and you had no idea. Though it all went out the window when he heard his best friend had been at your house for hours, alone with you. The blonde grabbed the bottle of scotch off the counter, pouring himself a glass as he prepared for whatever Rafe was about to say to him.

“You two dating now? Just fucking or something?” the brunette scoffed, leaning back in the chair and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Did you really just ask me that?” Topper asked incredulously, face contorting into a look of disgust. You were a gorgeous girl, he wouldn’t deny it, but that was a line he’d never cross. He saw you as the older sibling he never had. He looked at Rafe over the rim of his glass whilst taking a sip. “Why do you care, man? You’re the one who cut her off.”

Rafe chewed on the inside of his lip, shaking his head as he avoided Topper’s gaze, “I don’t.”

“Clearly you do,” Topper argued, crossing the room until he stood at the other side of the coffee table from his best friend. “You ignored her until she stopped trying. You snuck around with her best friend for years, then got engaged to her. You swore everyone to silence and didn’t even tell her yourself like you said you would. You know she never told Sarah or her parents you weren’t even speaking?”

“Okay, Top, I get it,” Rafe said through gritted teeth. He knew what he did, and he knew he was wrong for it. He didn’t need it being thrown back in his face.

“Do you?” the blonde questioned, not thinking his friend was fully grasping the situation. He sat down opposite the brunette and rested his elbows on his knees. “She’s hurt, Rafe. She’s been hurting for the last five years and seeing you today… with Janelle of all people… It was a tipping point.”

Rafe rubbed his hand over his face, a frown pulling at the corners of his lips. He looked at Topper, regret swimming in his pale blue eyes and desperation lacing the tone of his voice, “What do I do? How do I fix this?”

“I don’t know if you can, man,” Topper replied honestly, shaking his head, “My best advice to you right now, is just leave her alone.”

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puddygeeks · 3 years

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Wᴇ Cᴏᴍᴇ Rᴜɴɴɪɴɢ - Tʜᴇ 100 Bᴇʟʟᴀᴍʏ x OC - Cʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 71: Wᴇɪɢʜᴛ Oғ Tʜᴇ Wᴏʀʟᴅ

Masterlist

Rating: Mature

Summary: During her time in the Skybox, Indigo formed a precious friendship with fellow outcast Octavia Blake, the girl under the floor. At first they thought their departure from the oppression of the Ark was a blessing, but quickly came to rely on Indigo's keen survival instincts. The 100 struggle to meet the challenges of Earth whilst Bellamy strives to lead the wavering teenagers and his irresponsible attitude fuels constant conflict with Indigo. Their only shared interest is in protecting Octavia and Indigo beings to suspect that there is a deeper cause to Bellamy's seemingly irrational choices. As the consequences of his actions mount up around him, he finally begins to confide in her and she discovers more than she ever bargained for.

Fandom: CW’s The 100

Pairing: OC x Bellamy Blake

LONG TERM ONGOING PROJECT :)

My writing is entirely fuelled by coffee! If you enjoy my work, feel free to donate toward my caffeine dependency: will work for coffee

Warnings: Mature content. Non-consent, language, sex, self harm, suicide, anxiety, helplessness, torture, captivity/confinement, alcohol/drug use.

Episode: Watch The Thrones

Chapter Seventy-One

Stepping outside of the oppressive atmosphere of the Ark, I found that Lincoln hadn’t gone far to escape after his attack.

He stood leaning against the structure, staring into the distance in what I could only assume was an attempt at calming himself and as I stepped closer, I noticed that he wore an intense expression. There was a stream of blood down the side of his face from the deep gash in his head, which clearly needed stitches and I leaned carefully into his eyeline.

“Linkon.”

I addressed him gently, speaking in Trig to ensure that our conversation would remain private as I pulled his attention from his thoughts and as he met my eyes, I could see his vulnerability which flared my protective nature.

“Let me take a look at that.” I offered as I gestured toward his wound and he took a moment to consider me, before bending down to my height so that I could reach.

Using the rag that I’d taken from inside, I gently wiped away the blood from his face and examined the laceration with a grimace. My temper bubbled in my stomach as I treated him, wishing that I had the strength to beat some sense into his attacker, but I had to force myself to remain calm. He already seemed to be battling his own emotions and it would be selfish to allow mine to influence him now.

“This is a deep wound, Linkon.” I advised as I gathered the rag and pressed it over the wound to protect it, ensuring that it was completely covered. “Hold this here for now. You need to keep the pressure up until we get to Medical.”

“No.” He answered abruptly as he took responsibility for holding the rag, but straightened his posture so that he was out of my reach and it was clear that he was not ready to face Abby or the others yet.

“They’re wrong about you.” I stated firmly, unwilling to allow him to sink into despair and he studied me with an unreadable expression. “You do belong here, but not because you are no longer Trikru. You are still one of them, too. In fact, I would say that you are their most valuable member, because you were willing to leave behind everything that you know to help them.” I divulged, pausing to shuffle slightly as he met my eyes and I smiled as I continued.

“We both know that our medical knowledge could help your people enormously. We also know that because of our weaponry, going to war would cause countless deaths for your people. That’s why you are doing everything that you can to secure peace and a better life for them. Your people may not recognise what you’re doing for them, but I do.” I rambled, holding his eye contact unflinchingly and he sighed as he absorbed my words.

“Your people still view me as just another grounder.” He stated with frustration, allowing himself to lower his internal walls to me and I nodded in understanding. “They do not care for all that I have sacrificed. To them, I am no different to Azgeda. Will it ever be enough?”

“You’re entitled to be hurt by what just happened in there. I would be too, especially after everything that you have done for us. It’s vital that you remember that the people responsible for this unacceptable incident are ignorant, small minded idiots whose opinions do not represent this camp. The people who supported you before we found Farm Station still support you. You haven’t lost anything, Linkon. We still consider you one of us and we always will. Oso thro daun ageda.” [We fight together.] I asserted, passion filling my voice as I spoke and I watched as the hurt in his face gradually melted away, until he smiled appreciatively at me.

“Oso thro daun ageda.” He repeated calmly, his eyes sparking with emotion and I smiled at him in return. “You have become a wise warrior, Indigo kom Trishanakru. You would make an exceptional second to Arlo.” He praised, causing my heart to swell at the kindness of this compliment and I touched his arm in a fond gesture.

“Thank you, but I’m plenty busy enough with keeping an eye on all of you.” I remarked with a cheeky wink, before fidgeting to regain my balance as my head spun again.

“I have to get back to Medical. Come on. You can help me and get your head treated whilst you’re there.” I instructed in the hope that he wouldn’t fight me this time and he simply nodded slowly, before falling into step with me.

❖ ── ✦ ──『✙』── ✦ ── ❖

The ward was surprisingly busy when we entered, as they seemed to be overwhelmed with sick grounders and though I was taken aback by this sudden development, I focused on handing Lincoln over to Abby for treatment. She seemed relieved when she noticed us and led him to a bed to examine the wound.

Kane rushed into the ward with Pike following close behind him, both making a beeline for Abby and I decided to return to my own bed, suspecting that Lincoln would likely already be overwhelmed enough with them arguing around him, without my contributions.

I’d only just placed myself sideways on the mattress, my hands on my knees as I stared at the floor and waited for my dizziness to pass, when I felt someone approaching me.

“I heard that you were hurt.”

A strikingly calm voice announced and I glanced up to find Nyko examining me with the same controlled face that Lincoln often wore. It had been a while since I’d last seen him, but I could tell that he had a similarly noble nature to Lincoln and I appreciated that he continued to support his friend in securing peace.

“Good to see you again, Nyko.” I smiled politely, shifting my position so that I could view him better. “I’m alright. Just need a bit of recovery time. How are you doing after your treatment?” I enquired, remembering how severe his wounds had been when he last came to us and hoping that he’d managed to recover well enough without our assistance.

“I am much better. I wish that I could say the same for my people.” He answered regretfully and I glanced around the ward to notice that many of the grounders here were either coughing, or vomiting. “There was a sickness in a village nearby. Many recovered quickly, but some have not been able to fight it. Abby offered to help them.” He explained, seeming exhausted as he glanced back at them and I regarded him with sympathy.

“Well, we have to take care of each other, right?” I offered with a warm smile and he seemed pleased to discover that I was supportive of this decision. “I’m sorry. Any other time I would offer to help, but getting Linkon here has kinda wiped me out.” I confessed, feeling utterly useless for my current weakness and Nyko nodded in understanding.

“Abby said that you were badly hurt in the attack. I am sorry for what happened at Mount Weather.” He remarked with an expression of genuine remorse and I flashed him a grateful smile. “Rest well, my friend.” He muttered as he bowed his head to me, before returning to caring for his people.

With a deep sigh, I laid back on the bed to catch my breath and stared up at the ceiling, struggling to focus. Everything felt more draining than I was prepared for and I already grew tired of my new limitations.

Hurried footsteps warned me of Jackson’s arrival as he frantically ran around me to take another set of obs and it seemed that he was too flustered to even hold a conversation as he worked. His pen scratched rapidly over the charts as he filled in the results and once it seemed that he was satisfied with his findings, he rushed away to care for the rest of his patients.

Abby was still attempting to treat Lincoln whilst also balancing an argument with Pike and Kane. As I watched her struggling to multitask, I understood why she felt that she needed to pass on the role of Chancellor to someone who could give it their full attention.

“Lincoln. We need to set an example.” Kane pleaded, allowing a slight hint of his anger over this incident to peek out from his careful demeanour and I smiled.

Kane’s consideration for Lincoln gained my respect, as I had never expected for him to be as accepting when we first met and was pleasantly surprised at the leader that he was blossoming into. Meanwhile, Pike sighed at his side, as he fidgeted around in a stressed manner.

“Yeah. We do.” Lincoln muttered, clearly far more relaxed than he was when I first found him outside and I wondered whether it might have been wiser to encourage him to respect his anger, as now he seemed to be taking a more lenient approach to his attacker than I approved of.

“The man just lost his son, Marcus.” Pike argued, seeming shocked that anyone could even consider punishing the instigator and I huffed in annoyance.

Pike had been blatantly coddling the Farm Station residents since they arrived, unable to accept even the mere suggestion that they could do any wrong and my patience with his golden child syndrome was growing thin.

“Lincoln didn’t do that.” Abby pointed out, staring at Pike over her shoulder whilst she worked and I was relieved that she remained stern in the face of his favouritism.

The doors to the ward swung open with a clatter as Octavia entered, her face filled with a mixture of terror and rage. Though I willed my legs to stand to join her, I couldn’t lift myself from the bed and simply had to watch as she strode toward Lincoln in a fluster.

“What happened?” She demanded, sneaking a glare at Pike as she passed that silently enquired as to why he was even present and I couldn’t help a sly smile at her attitude.

Octavia began fretting over Lincoln as they shared a hushed conversation and Pike moved to leave medical first. He had barely reached my bed when Nyko momentarily blocked his path, fixing him with a stern glare that conveyed his distrust and he maintained it even once he eventually allowed him to pass. Pike seemed shaken by this encounter as he hurried out and I caught Nyko’s eyes with a meaningful look.

“He is bad news. Watch him around your people.” I warned, already fearful for the safety of those in the ward and Nyko nodded in agreement, seeming grateful for my support.

My attention was caught by Abby loudly asking Lincoln to assist with translation for the grounder patients and Octavia wandered over to my bed with frustration poorly hidden in her face.

“How are you feeling, little miss kamikaze?” She interrogated, raising a bro at me critically and I shook my head at her as I prepared myself for another scolding. “Honestly, if you didn’t already look so sorry for yourself, I’d hit you. You really worried us this time. I thought Bellamy was going to have a heart attack. I’ve never seen him that frantic. He was losing his mind!”

“I know. I’m an idiot. Believe me, I’ve already got that message loud and clear from a host of people.” I answered with an apologetic smile and she seemed pleased to hear that I was being grilled for my behaviour. “Give me a little recovery time and I’ll be fine.” I added gently to answer her question and she seemed relieved, though the tension in her brows didn’t completely disappear.

“You look stressed, Sugar. Talk to me.” I offered, unsettled by seeing her upset.

Octavia chewed on her lip for a moment, seeming as if she was too proud nowadays to allow herself a moment of weakness as she had always done in my company in the past. I patted the bed as I shuffled over to make space, making it clear that I was absolutely willing to still dote on her when needed and she sighed, before she carefully sat beside me.

“Lincoln’s not going to press charges on that Farm Station asshole.” She grumbled with anger filling her pretty features and I sighed in disappointment.

If I was honest, I had expected this outcome, but I had hoped that Octavia might be able to convince him to reconsider. I had no doubt that she had already tried, but as she clearly had been unsuccessful, I decided that I would need to provide her with calming answers, rather than riling her up further.

“There has to be a consequence for assaulting him like that. I mean, he’s got stitches in his head, Indie!” She exclaimed and I struggled to keep my mouth closed as I nodded. “Pike’s people already think that they’re untouchable as it is. This won’t help anything.” She added bitterly and I took one of her hands in mine in an attempt to calm her from her outrage.

“That’s Lincoln’s way. You know that better than anyone, Tavi. He wants to set a good example of grounders. That they can be compassionate and compromise.” I advised, caressing her hand comfortingly and she huffed as she absorbed my words. “Plus, it sounded like Pike was pushing pretty hard for no charges. He’s certainly not making things any easier by insisting that our rules don’t apply to them.”

“Tell me about it. You know, the guards were trying to throw Nyko and the others out when they arrived. They didn’t even give him a chance to explain that their treatment had already been agreed with Abby.” She recounted with aggravation and I furrowed my brows at this revelation. “I had to help carry them in by myself. No one else would help them.” She revealed, her voice gradually softening from anger to fear and I glanced around at the sickly people surrounding us with shock.

“A lot of the people here have been anti-grounder for a while. The Farm Station residents moving in and then the Mount Weather attack has only boosted their confidence. We’re going to have to be careful in how we deal with this. People are angry and scared, and we both know how easily that can go to shit if it becomes a mob mentality.” I analysed, feeling uneasy about the divide that I could sense in the camp and Octavia glanced at me with a similar discomfort in her eyes.

“I asked Linkon if we could leave to join Trikru. The Commander lifted the kill order on him, so we’re free to go. Indra seemed interested in having me back at the Summit. I thought that maybe I could convince her to take him too.” She whimpered, switching to Trig to be extra cautious that none of our own people could overhear her plans and though I was upset by this suggestion, I understood her desire to escape. “He said no. He wants to stay, but I don’t feel safe here.”

“Linkon feels like he has a responsibility to represent his people here. He’s too noble to walk away from that. He still has hope that an alliance could work.” I reminded her, despite feeling doubtful about the reliability of this concept myself and she scoffed under her breath, though her expression revealed that she knew I was right.

“You’re always safe with me. No matter what state I’m in. I’m never gonna let anything happen to you and neither will your man. You know that, right?” I confirmed, squeezing her hand tightly and she snuck a rare smile at me.

“I know. The same goes for you. We’ve got each other's backs.” She confirmed and I was pleased to have at least taken the edge off her anxiety. “Love you.” She whispered, sniffing emotionally before she leaned her head onto my shoulder in a way that she hadn’t done in a long time.

“Love you too, Tavi.” I breathed, placing a light kiss on the top of her head and leaning into her too.

We stayed like this for a few minutes and I treasured the feeling of closeness between us. Since we landed on Earth things had never been the same, but I was grateful that I could always fall back on Octavia. Her love and commitment had kept me strong in the worst times of my life and I knew that no matter what happened in the future, or how far apart we ended up, I would always be able to depend on it.

“Sorry to interrupt this super adorable moment, but I’ve gotta move you.” Jackson announced with an apologetic smile as he crept into the area around my bed and I glanced up at him in confusion.

“The grounders that we are treating are suffering with an illness that is causing breathing difficulties. It’s not especially serious, but if you were to catch it, it would majorly affect your recovery. We’re gonna move you to a private room for tonight and then we’ll see if you’re looking well enough to rest up in your own quarters after that.” He explained as he busied himself with gathering my stuff so that I wouldn’t attempt to carry it myself and I looked over at Octavia reluctantly.

“It’s okay. You need to focus on taking care of yourself. We’ll chat later.” She soothed, giving my arm a supportive squeeze, before she left me to Jackson’s care.

Using his arm for balance, I allowed him to lead me to a small room beside the main ward that was available for any intensive care cases. He assisted in setting up the room and checked that I was settled comfortably in bed. Once he’d wheeled in all of the necessary equipment, he connected me to an IV for another dose of pain relief and ensured that I ate a full meal, before he returned to assist Abby in the main ward.

For a while, I managed to concentrate on reading The Iliad again, before I became restless and my mind began to obsess over Bellamy, worrying over what could take this amount of time. I recalled Raven’s earlier words with a flinch, fearful that they were hurtful enough to cause him to do all manner of stupid things and I was already considering whether I had the energy to sneak out to find him, when he finally appeared.

“Hey! Are you alright?” He enquired immediately, seeming flustered and lost as he made his way into the room and I nodded with confusion, unsure what had caused such a distressing attitude. “I panicked when I couldn’t find you. What’s going on?” He breathed, sounding out of breath and I smiled at his protectiveness.

“Oh, sorry. Jackson and Abby don’t want me to pick up anything from the grounders that they’re treating whilst I’m still in recovery.” I explained, casually placing the book on a nearby surface and he glanced back toward the ward in annoyance.

“If they’re so sick, maybe they shouldn’t be here!” He stated frustratedly, his entire demeanour radiating aggravation and I knitted my brows together at the absurdity of this statement. “We shouldn’t be taking grounders into Arkadia if it’s going to endanger our own people.” He argued as he glared toward the ward again and I could hardly believe what I was hearing.

“Well, that’s why I’m in here now. The illness isn’t especially dangerous, according to Jackson. They just didn’t want to slow my recovery.” I clarified gently, but he remained distracted by this change and I could tell that something else was bothering him.

“Come on. Sit down.” I requested, tapping a chair that was beside the bed and he paused to ensure that the door to the room was fully closed protectively.

Once satisfied that no germs were going to reach me, he reluctantly shuffled over to my side and dropped into the chair. Even his posture seemed irritable and I knew that he wasn’t coping, despite his best efforts to keep this information to himself. It was agonising for me to witness him suffering and wished that I could simply take his pain away.

“Bellamy, talk to me. Please.” I offered, reaching over to take one of his hands in mine and he simply fidgeted in his seat as he viewed me. He didn’t grip my hands in return, seeming completely removed from me and I felt anxiety building in my chest at his strange behaviour.

“Baby. What Raven said earlier was awful-”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” He cut in abruptly, clearing his throat to ensure that his voice didn’t divulge any emotion and I chewed on my lip.

“Well, clearly not talking about it is doing wonders for you.” I blurted, thinning my eyes at him and he avoidantly turned his face away.

Everything about his posture was closed off, as if he was making every effort to keep me from breaching his defences and I couldn’t imagine why he felt that he needed to manage this alone. Ever since I first woke up in Arkadia, I knew that there were things that he wouldn’t tell me and in the months that followed the feeling only grew, seeming like a disease that slowly poisoned him. Now I knew that he was lying and the pain that he battled to disguise was written all over his face, in capital letters.

“She needs someone to blame for what happened and it’s not fair that she picked you.” I stated, keeping my voice gentle as I addressed him and he sniffed loudly. “This isn’t your fault.”

“Isn’t it?” He asked sharply, startling me with the sharpness of his tone and I noticed when he finally brought his gaze back to me that there were tears glistening in his eyes. “I chose to trust Echo. I vouched for her, even when you told me to be careful. They were all my decisions. Going to Polis to warn them was my plan.” He pointed out, his voice shaking as he spoke and hurt came off him in waves.

“I almost got you killed, Indie!” He hissed, the pain in his face causing my heart to break and I could hardly cope with how broken he looked. “Jackson said that when he found you, you were drowning in your own blood. You barely made it through surgery. I had to sit here and watch you fight for your life, knowing that it was my fault if you died.”

“You didn’t do this to me, Bellamy. This one is on me. I hid the broken ribs and I stayed in the mountain for too long. I did this to myself.” I insisted, unwilling to allow him to blame himself for my injuries and I could recognise that this aspect had caused the most damage to him emotionally.

“Please. Tell me how this blood isn’t on my hands, because I can’t see it.” He whispered, hardly able to get the words out as he stared at me in desperation and I longed to wrap him in my arms, holding him until he came back to his senses.

“Earlier today, you reminded me that we are still just kids, doing the best that we can. You could never have known what was going to happen. The only people with blood on their hands are the ones who plotted to kill us. You don’t get to punish yourself for being human.” I asserted with as much strength as I could and he finally allowed a tear to roll down his cheek. “You did what you believed was right. You can’t be blamed for what happened after.” I confirmed, reaching out to brush the tear away, but he leaned away from me.

“I’m pretty sure that Raven would disagree.” He divulged in a hoarse voice, roughly wiping his tears aside as if he were frustrated at himself for showing weakness and for a moment, I felt lost for words.

The distance between us felt like miles and I couldn’t think on how to reach past the blame that he was determined to carry. For the first time since we’d been together, he felt like a stranger to me and it strung to realise that I hadn’t known him for long enough to know how to handle this. The only remaining truth that I could offer was my own insight and I took a deep breath as I returned my mind to the weeks that I spent captive in Mount Weather.

“When I thought that I lost you, I was like a totally different person. That kind of grief, combined with all of the what ifs and missed chances, it brings out the worst in you. She’s dealing with so many constantly changing emotions and she just needs someone to direct them at.” I expressed, using my experiences to try to remove some of the impact of Raven’s attack and he listened obediently whilst still keeping his gaze trained away from me.

“You’re an easy target for her and she needs that right now. For me, it was Miller.” I admitted, causing him to finally glance up at me in confusion. “In my mind, I lost you because he took me when you were fighting Tristan. I couldn’t bring myself to acknowledge that he was just protecting me as you’d asked. I believed that I could’ve saved you and he stopped me from doing that. I was so angry with him.” I divulged, feeling the familiar pain of shame in my chest as I recalled the way that I had spoken to Miller back then and Bellamy seemed equally shocked by my confession.

“But you got me back. Raven won’t get a redo like we did.” He sighed, seeming even more remorseful as he considered this and I felt at a loss for anything else I could say to help him.

“I did. And I will always be grateful for that.” I confirmed, squeezing his hand with appreciation, but he barely even reacted to me. “I forgave Miller long before I knew that you had survived. It took a lot of soul searching and I think it probably made a big difference that we had to work together to survive, but I accepted that it wasn’t fair to blame him. I’d even consider us friends now. Raven will forgive you in time. For now though, you need to forgive yourself.” I urged, staring into his face with concern, but he remained distant as if I hadn’t even spoken at all.

“We will need to work together to survive again soon if Kane doesn’t act.” He muttered, running a hand through his hair in a gesture of stress and I tilted my head at him in question.

“We’ve got an army of grounders surrounding us at this very moment. If the Commander decides to change her loyalties again like she did at Mount Weather, we won't stand a chance.” He presented as if this threat were obvious and I leaned away from him slightly in shock.

This was the last thing that I had expected him to say and it took several minutes for me to form a response as I struggled to understand who he was referring to.

“Indra’s army.” I pointed out firmly, but he stared back at me with an unchanged expression. “They’re here to help us fight Azgeda. This isn’t like before. We’re the thirteenth clan now.” I argued, confused that we were even discussing this and he scoffed at me in an antagonising manner. “We can trust Trikru. Indra has proven herself too many times for you to disrespect her like this.”

“Indra is a grounder! Trusting a grounder just got thirty six of our people killed.” He hissed, seeming as if he were losing his patience with me and I felt my eyes widen at his attitude. “You are too attached to them to see this for the danger that it is. It’s time that you remembered who your people are and started thinking of their safety.” He lectured, already warming into a familiarly protective attitude and I felt my temper rising at the sight of it.

“I am thinking of my people, despite the fact that you are currently behaving like children.” I spat, my sympathy rapidly being pushed aside for anger as he seemed to have suddenly forgotten the months of work that had gone into campaigning for peace, in favour of viewing every grounder in the same light.

Bellamy clenched his jaw at my words, avoiding meeting my eyes as he fidgeted in place and I crossed my arms defensively. A few moments of silence passed as we both attempted to calm ourselves and I couldn’t allow things to fester any longer between us, as I decided that it was time to address his behaviour.

“If you’re so concerned about our safety, why did you quit the guard?” I asked in a cold tone, allowing my expression to reveal my annoyance for his dishonesty and he whipped his gaze back up to me in panic. “Kane told me. He hoped that I might be able to convince you to reconsider, but if I’m honest, I wouldn’t feel comfortable with you working as a guard right now. I know that you feel like you need to keep us safe, but you’re being paranoid-”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about!” He yelled as he rose to his feet in anger and I flinched at his unexpected outburst, staring up at him with wide eyes.

“You’re so blinded by your loyalty to Arlo that you can’t see what's right in front of you. My decision to trust a grounder opened us up for betrayal, again. We have to be wiser. Wake up, Indie! Kane’s got you dancing to his tune!”

“And it sounds like Pike’s finally got you dancing to his!” I snapped viciously, causing him to curse under his breath and storm out of the room without another word, leaving the door hanging open behind him.

“Bellamy!” I yelled after him, hardly able to believe that he’d walked out on me when he knew I couldn’t leave and I threw off my covers to prepare to follow him, when Jackson rushed in.

“Woah, woah!” He gasped, glancing back out of the door with disbelief. “Indie, don’t even think about getting out of that bed! You’re not well enough.” He ordered, barging his way over to push me back and due to my weak state, I couldn’t fight as he lifted me slightly to prop me back on the mattress.

“Jackson. I need to-”

“I understand that you want to go after your man, but just give him some time to cool off. He’ll come back when he’s ready.” Jackson argued, blocking the door from my reach and I reluctantly flopped into lying down with exhaustion.

“You might as well get comfortable, honey. You’re not going anywhere. I need to get these dressings changed, anyway.” He added as he approached to ensure that I was secure in the bed, before he busied himself with treating my burns and I had no energy left to argue as I began to stew in my thoughts.

❖ ── ✦ ──『✙』── ✦ ── ❖

The effect of the pain relief was so strong that I didn’t even realise that I had fallen asleep until someone was shaking me. It was a battle to pull myself from the allure of sleep, as the exhaustion I felt was so intense that it felt unbeatable. Between blinks, I caught sight of Octavia standing above me with a panicked expression and the fear in her face spurred me into action.

“Indie, wake up! We’ve got trouble.” She hissed urgently and I sat bolt upright so quickly that it made me flinch in pain.

“What’s wrong?” I gasped, almost falling out of bed from dizziness and Octavia grabbed my shoulders to stabilise me.

She seemed to regret her decision to wake me, as I stared at her though unfocused eyes and I knew that she worried over my condition. After a few moments of staring at her insistently, she eventually cracked.

“It’s Bellamy.” She sighed awkwardly, causing alarm to course through my body and miraculously, I was no longer tired.

Octavia had to practically restrain me to prevent me from launching out of the bed and she hurried to explain so that I would cease fighting.

“He’s not hurt!” She gasped in exasperation and I paused in place, viewing her with a feeling of intense dread. “He helped Pike’s crew to sneak guns out of the armoury. Lincoln and a couple of guards caught them trying to sneak out of camp. They were going to kill the army whilst they slept.” She explained as her face displayed her hurt at this discovery and I stuttered in shock, struggling to find any words to respond with.

“What?!” I spat, rubbing at my temples whilst my brain strained to comprehend this situation. Octavia watched me sympathetically as I wondered if I had somehow caused this, replaying our earlier conversation in my mind obsessively.

“That’s not even the worst of it.” She confessed in a careful voice and I could barely bring myself to meet her eyes as I steeled myself for more. “Kane and Abby came out to arrest them all and obviously it caused a scene. So, Pike started using it to preach his bullshit as usual and Bellamy publicly suggested that he run for Chancellor. Indie, he started the whole camp cheering for him.”

“They’re not going to allow him to run, are they?” I breathed in horror as I understood that she had been correct to feel afraid in this camp and my anxiety was running in circles as I realised that she could be in danger.

“I don’t think they have much of a choice. He has more support than we realised. There would be riots if they refused.” She mumbled, the colour draining from her face as she considered this and I rubbed at my face with a groan.

“This is insane!” I stated in disbelief, feeling as if I simply wanted to hide beneath my covers, but I knew that she was counting on me, amongst many others.

Pain pulsed in my head as I tried to push through my shock to form a plan, but I was overwhelmed with guilt and betrayal that clouded my judgement. It seemed utterly childish now that I had been so upset over Bellamy lying about his guard jacket when compared to something as extreme as this and I struggled to match this decision to the kind, understanding man that I knew. Octavia watched me with a similarly lost look in her eyes and I was glad to have her at my side to sympathise with the conflicting emotions that I battled.

“Alright. Did Bellamy get arrested too?” I enquired in a forced attempt at a calm tone and she nodded without hesitation. “Good. It's a long shot, but if I can get in to visit him, then I might just be able to talk some sense into him before it’s too late.”

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minhomas-tmr · 3 years

Text

The Lies I Tell Myself - Chapter 4

The plane ride was short but too much turbulence if anyone wanted Minho’s true opinion. Also the landing was terrible…

Bad flying or not, Thomas slept through it all, hair fluffed up cutely as he leaned on his side. Unknown to him, Minho at some point lifted the armrest between their seats, so Thomas ended up curled against Minho instead.

Seeing more than one person smiling as they passed them, had him soak up the misunderstanding since an actual relationship with Thomas would probably never happen. It was good to know however, that they were convincible enough to pass as a couple.

Minho understood where they were coming from though. Thomas hardly slept these days between homework and his family meeting Minho—so Thomas being adorable and snuggling in to get comfortable?

God help him, he had it bad. — “Ugh, how could you not tell me they were passing snacks, huh?”

“Shut your whining and grab the baggage would you?” Minho suppressed an eye-roll. “When we get to the hotel, I’ll call room service, okay?”

“Is that allowed?” Thomas asked as they followed signs for the exit.

“Yeah it’s all paid for. The to-be-family rich or something?”

“Hefty trust fund,” Thomas muttered unhappily. “It was a requirement for her,”

“Oh. Wow.”

“Yeah, I know right?”

“No, I mean the car they sent to pick us up,” Minho pointed to the BMW with Thomas’ name on the plaque their driver was holding. “You sure she dislikes you?”

“She’s bragging.” Thomas insisted. “I’m only here because mom wanted me to be remember? Uhh…what are you doing?”

“Surely you know the concept of opening a door for someone else?” Minho couldn’t suppress the eye roll this time and gently pushed Thomas in when he just stood by it. As the driver started the car, he leaned in to peck Thomas softly on the cheek and thread his fingers through Thomas’.

He pretended not to notice his fake boyfriend’s face turn tomato-red. — “Not bad…” Thomas walked into their suite. “He must be really rich or something, if everyone’s rooms look like this…” When he turned to Minho, he was greeted with an annoyed look. “What??”

“You’re being ridiculous. She took sides sure but maybe, dunno maybe she’s trying to buy your love? Rich or no, only visiting family would get this royal treatment,”

“Maybe the fiancée suggested it?” Thomas offered.

“Quite possibly,” Minho smiled and weirdly that made Thomas relax, but there sure didn’t last, “Looks like we’ll have to order room service when we get back. I’ve laid out your clothes here by the way…”

Thomas grabbed the clothes and dashed to the washroom to change into his blazer outfit. He was acting like an idiot right now, but he would act 100% more idiotic if he had to watch Minho change.

By the time he was done, Minho was ready. Was there anything he didn’t look good in? Minho gave him a quick once over, “You look exactly like I thought you would,” he smirked.

“Fuckable?” Thomas blushed.

“Decent, clean and polite more like,” his flatmate approached him, casually fixing Thomas’ hair and he let it go on until he grew suspicious that Minho was teasing him now.

“If you want to touch me so much, you don’t have to only do it here remember? I’m your boyfriend. Or even…we don’t have to go to the brunch right? We can just stay in and get room service...”

“Now what kind of boyfriend would I be if I gave into all your demands?”

Thomas turned to him, “A good one!”

“You’re lucky you’re white and cute, Thomas.”

“Hey!”

“I’m kidding, you’re precious,” Minho pecked Thomas on his lips sweetly and turned around before he realized what he just did. Composing his face, Minho turned back around to Thomas staring at him wide eyed.

“Test run?” Thomas offered timidly.

Minho took it with both hands and ran with it. “Already feels natural doesn’t it?”

“Yeah,”

“Yeah.” Minho echoed. Shit.

“You look too fuckable for a welcome brunch,” Thomas swiftly changed subjects to a moderately safer one.

“Devour-a-ble would you say?” Minho’s sass was back.

“You’re lucky you’re hot! Because your jokes are seriously terrible.” Thomas eyed Minho’s lips, debated giving him a peck to continue the joke but he wasn’t that brave.

Or rather he was afraid he might not stop. “Which reminds me,” he said out loud, “brunch is tame. Maybe hold hands but no kissing?”

“Why? Forgot your lessons already? You want a refresher?” Minho teased.

“Unfortunately we don’t have the time…” Thomas sighed, “That would have been wayy more fun than having to see Teresa and the poor bastard marrying her. I don’t know if I should congratulate him or apologize,”

“Would kissing you shut you up?”

“Try it,” the words were out of his mouth before he even registered it. Minho had a calculative look in his eyes but turned away in the end, mumbling something about a watch.

Thomas mentally facepalmed. — Minho really did look devour-able and Thomas should have protested the outfit when he had the chance.

He couldn’t hide his smugness though, when as soon as he stepped out the car, Minho held his hand as they walked into the back gate of the venue, decorated in soft hues.

“So what’s the game plan?”

“Umm let’s see…Say hi to Teresa, make sure my mom does not talk to you, and get out right after we eat?”

“Wow Thomas. I didn’t know you were so keen on the promise of room service? Don’t know if they have flight snacks on the menu,” Minho laughed as Thomas pushed him away playfully. “And why keep me away from your mom? I’m great with people!”

“I know,” Thomas grumbled, threading his fingers with Minho’s absently. “That’s the problem. Everyone you meet manages to fall in love with you. My mom can’t fall victim to you too.”

“You’re making me sound like a serial killer,” Minho joked, “You fell victim too then?”

“I’m your boyfriend aren’t I?” Thomas rolled his eyes. They were still a little away from the crowd of guests.

Technically they didn’t have to put on their act yet, so when Minho paused for that millisecond, Thomas realized what he’d said. For once, he did a great job at convincingly pretending obliviousness. — People were looking at them. A lot. Thomas starting to feel self-conscious, leaned closer to Minho and gripped his hand tighter.

Though it didn’t show on his face, Minho bent down to whisper in Thomas’s ear, sounding worried, “Are you okay?”

“I don’t know,” Thomas admitted softly.

Minho tilted his head up slightly caressing his cheek. “I’m here. I won’t leave you,” He had no idea how much those words meant to Thomas, the significance of them, the difference it made. He relaxed...he was safe.

Minho threaded their fingers once more and Thomas walked in with more confidence, pointing to people he knew and titbits about them.

But the one person he didn’t get an opportunity to point out, was suddenly in front of him. Thomas’ smile slipped and Minho picked on it immediately.

“Thomas.” Gally completely ignored Minho and something about that irked him but he’d be cordial.

“Gally.”

“You know when I heard you were bringing a boyfriend, I was a little disappointed. I thought we could mend things, you know? But knowing you...you move fast don’t you?”

Thomas saw the malicious glint in his eye, before he turned to Minho, “be careful about this one..the next pretty thing and he’s gone,”

“Is that so?” Minho replied mildly. “And who are you? Thomas never mentioned you. Friends of the groom? Speaking of..I’d like to meet him. Do you know where we can find him?”

“Uhh..”

Gally was thrown off and Thomas suppressed his smile. Minho could definitely be intimidating on first meet. He exuded confidence and admittedly Thomas had a different reaction to most, but it was there alright!

“Hm. I guess we can find him ourselves..Gully is it? Nice to meet you Gully,” he smiled, then turned to Thomas. — ‘Wait here, don’t talk to anybody’ was what Thomas had said, but seriously it wasn’t his fault that there were only two other asians apart from him, and both were from the Groom’s party.

Minho wasn’t even sure why Thomas had abandoned him and didn’t have much time to ponder before he was joined by a boy with curly brown hair and a perfectly round face.

“Hi there,” he frowned, “I don’t know you. Bride or Groom’s side?”

Minho was a bit taken aback by the directness at first, but shrugged, “Boyfriend of Bride’s side I suppose,”

“You suppose? And who is this boyfriend of yours?”

“Thomas Editton,” Minho smiled cheerfully. “I’m Minho by the way,”

“Chuck. So Thomas?”

“Yeah, he’s an awkward yet surprisingly charming individual.”

The boy was downright frowning now.“I don’t know about the charming part…”

“Oh so you know him?” Minho whispered conspiratorially. “We kind of started dating by the second week of college, so any embarrassing stories you can spare? He has so much ammo on me because my friends insist on sharing every fail in my life, and I sort of need some, see?”

“I see,” The chubby boy seemed to be warming up to him and Minho looked into his soft brown eyes, feeling a famil—oh shit. Of all the people to spot him first, it had to be one of Thomas’ relatives.

“Well he has a terrible sense of fashion?”

“Oh boy am I well aware,” Minho looked around for his ‘boyfriend’ and seemed to spot Thomas the same time he did Minho. A quick look at Minho’s current talking companion and Thomas’ shoulders relaxed.

“What was that about?”

“Wants me suppressing my serial killer instincts,” Minho said without thinking.

“An inside joke I assume?”

“An inside one, yeah,” Minho laughed, but his eyes softened as he watched Thomas make his way towards them. “He’s something special that one…”

Chuck eyed Minho, “You really do know him, huh?” Minho pursed his lips, not sure what to say. “Well, as disaapointed I was at Thomas keeping you a secret for so long, I’m happy for you guys. Just be patient with him, okay?”

“Every day’s a struggle,” Minho joked, but Chuck didn’t seem to be teasing, so he quietened down.

“Thomas..he’s been through a lot, see. Teresa never believed him which is why that stain is here,” Chuck muttered darkly, “I guess I don’t have to tell you, cause you already know about the cheating and blaming and the..that.”

Apparently it was so bad, Chuck didn’t even want to say the word. From the titbits of what Thomas shared and his jumpiness, Minho gathered Gally must have been abusive in some way. He felt terrible for all the times he’d been impatient with Thomas’ intimacy issues.

“Honestly I didn’t think Thomas would ever get over it. I didn’t think he’d be able to trust anyone so soon…So thank you,” Chuck smiled softly. Minho didn’t know what to say so he just smiled back.

Minho stayed chatting with Chuck until a middle-aged woman joined them. Minho didn’t know what to make of this, but the look on Chuck’s face made him suspicious.

“You must be Minho I suppose. So what’s your major again?”

Minho was a bit taken aback by the swift jump in topic but he replied, “Yes, ma’am. I’m majoring in Kinesiology, specifically sports related. I’m…a part of the Varsity Track team but also taking a Minor in Art History,”

“Must be a struggle to balance so many things at once. College. Parties.” Okay definitely some scrutinizing happening.

“It was a challenge at first, yes. A lot of trial and error,” Minho smiled sheepishly, “but Thomas has been a huge part of why I found my balance…”

“Interesting…” the woman hummed and before she could get another word out, Thomas appeared it seemed out of nowhere.

“Mother!”

Minho froze. Oh shit. Luckily Mrs. Editton and Chuck were now focusing on Thomas, so he had a moment to adjust his expression.

“I-I guess you’ve met Minho then,”

“Seeing as you were going to take forever to do so, I thought to take the initiative,” she smiled. Minho couldn’t decipher if it was said in good faith, but it was definitely a tense one. Thomas fidgeted, inching towards Minho until it practically looked like he was hiding behind him.

“Are you surprised though,” Minho pitched in, wanting to save his pretend-boyfriend, “In his own words, Thomas is an awkward butterfly,” Minho commented dryly.

“It’s still a turtle, Minho!” Thomas rolled his eyes at him.

“But turtles are so plain. Butterflies are pretty. Wouldn’t you rather be pretty?” Minho said with fondness. Thomas had no right being this cute.

“I-uh..” Thomas stuttered, “I’m getting a drink—“

Minho snagged Thomas’ current wine glass. “Yes, thank you for getting me one,” he smirked as Thomas looked like he was two seconds from fleeing, consequences be damned. “Shall we?”

Thomas grabbed Minho and practically dragged him away.

“Good news is, Chuck survived my deadly charm—“ Thomas rolled his eyes, “—bad news is, you’re mom knows because of the way you were acting.”

“Yeah, yeah, so I’m not the smoothest cat in this game,”

“No. You’re a turtle.”

“What about butterflies? I thought turtles were ugly?” God help him, Thomas was actually pouting.

“You’re the one that wanted to be a turtle so bad,” Minho shrugged, leading him to the bar. “Oh good! Open bar,”

“Well now I can explore other options too, right? Should I get a beer?”

“You hated the beers, threw them out remember? Try the rum. No, no you peasant. The golden rum.”

“Mount Gay? You’re not as funny as you think, Minho.”

“Gay used to mean happy,” Minho shook his head, faking disappointment, “Besides, its expensive. Get it with coke though. You’re a lightweight.”

“When did you get so observant?” Thomas frowned but ordered Minho’s recommendation anyways. Minho avoided his stare, looking around the spacious lawn of the golf-course they were at.

“I think I found the groom,” he held Thomas by the elbow to a short freckled man with a polite smile.

“We didn’t talk about drinks,” Thomas insisted.

“Hush,”

“I—“

“Hi. I’m Aris,” A man wearing a hat that’s sign said: ‘Groom-To-Be’ In Case U Weren’t Sure’ walked up to them. “You must be Thomas and Meen-ho. Did I get that right?” he asked Thomas’ very real boyfriend.

“Good attempt! More like Min..like minutes. And Ho..like Christmas I guess,” Minho dimpled as Aris smiled widely. “Thank you for the suite the way. It’s quite generous.”

“Oh please!” Aris waved it aside, “You’re visiting family and immediate cousins. I do truly appreciate having you here, Thomas. I’ve heard so much.”

“Congratulations on getting married. Well..about to,” Thomas stated awkwardly. “Knowing Teresa there’s a running theme?”

“Yeah. ‘Expensive looking’,” Aris laughed at some inside joke they weren’t privy to. “Teal and white with ‘hints of blue’” he imitated Teresa so well, Thomas laughed.

“Sounds like Teresa,” Thomas shook his head. “Did she show you her album?”

“What album?” Aris looked intrigued.

“You don’t know?” Thomas turned to Minho including him into the conversation so he wouldn’t feel left out. “Teresa’s been building her ideal wedding since she was a ten I think. I didn’t get it personally…but I thought she’d at least use *some* of it for her actual wedding?”

“Ohh that album. No that’s more of portfolio…I’m surprised she didn’t tell you. Teresa’s a wedding planner.”

“Oh.” There was an awkward pause and Thomas looked at Minho to save him.

“The venue’s gorgeous!” was the best thing Minho could come up with. It didn’t help.

“We’re not actually that close…she’s closer to my ex. That’s who she probably told,” Thomas hunched his shoulders inward and Minho reached for his hand, squeezing it in assurance; it gave him a boost, “Well, same town so it’s expected right?”

Aris gave them a calculated look, smile dropping a little. “So you’re Gally’s ex.” Aris looked across the lawn, “Best not tell her about the room then…”

“Yeah,” Thomas said softly. He knew it, he ju—

“I’m sorry. About what happened between you two. I’ve tried, but she’s too close to him, she doesn’t see it. I apologize on her behalf,” he offered. Thomas was shocked.

“I like you, man!” Minho slapped Aris on the shoulder, grinning.

“Oh thank God, approval means sooo much to me! “You won’t believe how many people mentioned I’m shorter than her—like I don’t have eyes!” Aris was laughing now.

“I hear you dude. I may be the Varsity Captain but everyone needs that.”

“You’re a Captain? Urgh didn’t need to know that. If I saw a picture of you before, I would have said no because you’re upstaging everyone here!”

“Thanks for saying that,” Minho smirked, “Assurance is always good,”

“Doubtful my ass! He knows he’s hot,” Thomas interjected.

Minho slid an arm around Thomas’ waist and leaned in to kiss his cheek. He kept doing that—he kept being so sweet and it was muddling Thomas’ head.

Was it real? Was anything they did real? Did it matter? He had Minho here with him, right? Minho was his boyfriend right now, so he was allowed to do boyfriend things. Making up his mind, Thomas leaned against Minho’s front, grabbed his hand and zoned out of the conversation.

Minho would cover for him. — “Are you serious?” Minho’s disbelief broke Thomas out of his daze. He looked up at his boyfriend, then followed his line of sight, his own jaw dropping.

“What—“

“You try telling Teresa, dressing up like a fairy at the welcome brunch is a bad idea,” Aris didn’t even turn around, “She’s lucky I love her.”

Thomas snorted, he couldn’t help it. “You’re good for her,” he mentioned, when Aris turned towards him inquiringly.

Aris nodded and then a mischievous glint appeared and Thomas sensed trouble, “So when are you two getting married?”

“Wha—“ Thomas was speechless. Were they that good? At pulling this off? Why would—

“Hey, I mean bringing your boyfriend to any type of family gathering, but a wedding especially. I mean. That’s serious.”

Thomas felt faint.

“Woah, woah slow down,” Minho cut in. “Do you know how long it took Thomas to even decide to bring me along? He made three pros and cons lists! Three.”

“The first one was messy, I could barely read my own writing. So it doesn’t count,” Thomas pouted. This actually happened. He had after all freaked out after telling his mom he had a date.

“That’s because you’re writing is like chicken scratch,” Minho rolled his eyes. “Hey where’s your drink?”

“I forgot it somewhere. And no.” Thomas pointed to Aris. He held up his index finger. “Education first. Parents, second,” he pointed to Minho. “Family chemistry, third. Then fourth, marriage. Right babe?” Thomas looked up at Minho who opened his mouth but no words came out.

Aris looked between them and snickered. “Maybe ease off on the drinks, okay Thomas?”

“I think he’s tired from our trip,” Minho found his voice again. He smiled apologetically as Thomas nodded along. “Is it okay if we leave early?”

“Yeah, no worries.” Aris waved him off with a grin, “Just be there tomorrow.”

“I went through a painful process of getting us outfits for your events, trust me we won’t miss it,” Minho assured him, leading Thomas away. Thomas was clingy all through the car ride but the moment they stepped into the elevator he sighed.

“Thank God!! It was so boring. Two times she could have approached us and instead re-routed!”

“Rerouted..really, Thomas? What are you, a directions app?” Minho said as the elevator dinged, signalling their floor.

“You know what I mean!! And did you hear what he said? That if he’d seen a picture of you, he would have said no.”

“It was a joke,” Minho shook his head, swiping the key card.

“No. He stressed Minho. She protested me coming…” Thomas sighed. “What am I even doing here?”

“Showing off. That’s what you’re doing here.” Thomas glanced at him just in time to see Minho take off his jacket, walking towards him. “You’re here to show that the past is the past. That it hasn’t slowed you down.”

Thomas’ heart was hammering against his ribcage, Minho was so close. Decently close, not crowding close but his back was against the door and he had a crush on this guy, he was allowed to feel..whatever.

“You’ve upgraded.” Minho continued. “That you’re happy. You are, aren’t you? At college. With me?” Thomas gave a small nod, still not looking directly at Minho. “Shall we order your precious airplane snack cravings now?”

“I’m never living that down, am I?” Thomas sighed.

“What kind of a boyfriend would I be to just let it go,” Minho laughed.

“A GOOD one!!!”

— A/N: Hullo Lovelies!! Happy Happy New Year!! This chapter has been on my mind for forever and I’m glad I was able to finally complete it. it became a 3,500+ monster, so I’m stopping this chapter here for now, but moooore shenanigans ahead!! Like hmm..sharing a bed?

#thominho #thominho fic #thominho au #fake/pretend relationship au #thominho fanfiction #thominho ff #thomas tmr #minho tmr #tmr thomas #tmr minho #the lies i tell myself

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hiddendreamer67 · 4 years

Text

Gilded Cage- The Witcher

What’s that? Peter Pan Witcher AU, you say??

Summary: Geralt has been watching Yennefer through her window for weeks now. Jaskier flew ahead to scope it out tonight, and now Geralt’s fairy is doing time behind golden bars.

Word Count: 1,623

(In which young Geralt is Peter Pan, the lost boys are all witchers, fairy!Jaskier is his chattering Tinkerbell, and young Yennefer is the mysterious Wendy.)

Feel free to send in more prompts from my bingo card below! Also check out my writing blog @hiddendreamerwriting for more of my work!

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“You are one insane little girl.” Jaskier huffed, his wings twittering irritably on his back as the fairy fluttered about, trying to find a weak spot within his new prison. The golden bird cage seemed perfectly sturdy, unfortunately. “Mentally deranged, in fact. Completely off your rocker!”

“Hmm.” Yennefer gave him a predatory grin, for an eerie moment sounding like Geralt. “Could an insane person do this?” She pushed the side of the cage with her finger, making it sway.

“Yes! Indubitably- indefinitely?” Jaskier cursed his own lack of focus. “You cannot lock me up. Young lady, if you’re even a lady at all, I demand you release me at once!”

Yennefer huffed. “And why on earth would I, pixie, when all you’ve done in chant school yard insults in my direction?”

Jaskier felt his face turning very, very red, and forced himself to try and calm down. He couldn’t let his temper get the best of him, not when this child was holding all the cards.

“Now now, let’s be reasonable.” Jaskier hovered to the middle of the cage, crossing his arms to look stern. It never worked on the lost boys, but perhaps girls were different. “I am a very important fairy, darling. Without me, the very essence of nature would be thrown entirely off balance. Centuries in the making, gone! Poof! I certainly wouldn’t want that to rest on your young conscience, knowing you single-handedly destroyed the world.”

“I don’t have a conscience.” She teased.

“Of course you don’t.” Jaskier muttered. He fluttered up closer to her end of the cage again, glaring. “I’m serious, you know. 100%, total collapse of the earth, entirely in your hands. Ooooor, you open this measly little door, let one harmless fairy go free, and BAM! Savior of the world, right before me. Oh, wouldn’t that be wonderful? You could save everyone, wow, what an honor!”

Yennefer didn’t seem keen to take his deal. Even worse, she didn’t seem to be paying any attention to Jaskier, instead staring out the window.

The music-talent fairy couldn’t make sense of it; here was a child who has successfully caught a fairy, possibly the first to do so, and she wasn’t even interested in the actual fairy? What? Jaskier knew it couldn’t be about him personally, after all he was a sight to behold. A wonderful conversationalist as well (when not trapped in a cage), and though Geralt would never admit it Jaskier knew he made a delightful companion.

“...alright.” Jaskier sighed, knowing his curiosity could get him into trouble. “I’ll bear this burden, address the elephant in the room. What is it you want with me, hmm? I can’t grant wishes, not really my specialty, music’s really my passion but you don’t seem like the lullaby type-”

“You’re with the flying boy.” Yennefer cut him off, once again glancing his way.

...oh.

It wasn’t a question, but Jaskier answered anyway. “Well I’m certainly not with anyone now.” He laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. Strictly speaking, Geralt was meant to be a secret. Of course, so was all of fairy kind, but clearly that ship had sailed.

“Don’t play coy.” Yennefer rolled her eyes. “It’s unbefitting. He’ll come for you, of that I’m certain.”

And- well, she had a point. Jaskier had to hand it to her, it wasn’t a bad plan. Geralt may take pleasure in telling Jaskier off, but Jaskier knew the boy cared for him deep down in that stone heart of his. After all, it was Jaskier who had first found Geralt, the first lost boy, helping him settle on the island before they both discovered more abandoned children to bring to neverland. Jaskier was constantly flitting by his side, ever since Geralt first united the boys under one name: The Witchers.

But, sadly, despite their history, Jaskier knew when Geralt came it wouldn’t be for him.

“And if he doesn’t?” Jaskier asked bitterly. “Plan on keeping me behind golden bars until I starve to death? I won’t make it easy on you, mind you, my death will be slow and painful and vocal, I assure you.”

Yennefer considered this for a moment. “I suppose I’ll just have to transfer you to a jar, then. Put you out of your misery when the air runs out.”

Despite the teasing glint in her eye, her blatant comment made Jaskier turn furious. His chittering rose to such a high pitch that to Yennefer’s ears his swearing sounded more like tinkling bells. The young girl laughed, amused at his plight.

In all the commotion, a light breeze at the window went unnoticed, a figure with glowing eyes floating in to stand on the windowsill. He cleared his throat, immediately pulling all attention to himself. The young boy was dressed in dark rags, white hair tugged out of his face.

Yennefer let out a gasp in awe, appearing almost reverent. “You’re here.”

“You took my fairy.” Geralt jutted his chin towards the cage, and Jaskier ignored the pleased warmth that came with that title.

“True.” Yennefer admitted. “But I assure you, your firefly is unharmed.”

“Hmm.” Geralt’s face betrayed no emotion as Jaskier’s voice went too high to hear again.

“Mouthy, isn’t he?” Yennefer tilted her head, glancing at the fairy. “Don’t know how you haven’t gone deaf.”

Geralt’s lip twitched, clearly torn on how to respond. “...I’ve no idea.”

“Geralt!”

Geralt sighed at Jaskier’s indignant response. “Release him.”

The girl stood up, crossing her arms and coming closer to Geralt. “No manners? Perhaps think you can give me orders because I’m a little girl?”

Geralt wisely said nothing.

“Or perhaps you think it’s alright to come peer into my window when I’m sleeping.” Yennefer squinted at him with a knowing eye. “How long have you been watching me sleep, witcher?”

“Mmm.” Geralt looked displeased with where this was going.

“Hope you enjoyed the view.” Yennefer moved her hands to her hips. “But I think it’s only fair I get some repayment, I know fathers who have beat boys for doing less to their daughters. Not that mine would give a damn, of course, but a lady deserves her secrets.”

“I hardly think it’s fair recompensation, my life for his adolescent tendencies!” Jaskier called out, completely neglecting all the times Geralt had to save him after Jaskier’s own wandering eyes got them in trouble.

Geralt growled in his direction, clearly embarrassed.

“I won’t keep your fairy, boy, not to worry.” Yennefer patted Geralt’s cheek, making the lost boy flinch away from the unexpected contact. It had been years since someone had touched him so, even in jest. “I only ask for one favor.”

“What’s the favor?” Geralt asked.

“Teach me to fly.” Yennefer glanced out the window. “So I can escape this life.”

Jaskier and Geralt shared a look, glancing around the elegant nursery. They had met plenty of abandoned or neglected children on the streets, but in such a lavish home?

“You’d miss this life.” Geralt murmured.

“Don’t speak for me as if you know a thing about my life.” Yennefer snapped. “My choices are my own. I won’t stay where I’m not wanted, no matter the golden trim. My parents play a charade I want no part of and they’ve made it clear my less vocal siblings are preferred. I will start anew on my own terms.”

“Or you’ll die on the streets.” Jaskier piped up. “Starving, freezing, perhaps abandoned on a bench. Only so much pixie dust to go around, really, before you end up in the middle of nowhere. At least here it’s safe with a luxury pillow beneath your head.”

“Jaskier.” Geralt issued in a warning tone.

Yennefer ignored the musician’s squabblings, narrowing in on one fact in particular. “Pixie dust?” She glanced between them. “Is that the secret to how you fly?”

Geralt let out a long sigh. “No. And yes. It’s … complicated.”

“Then perhaps you should un-complicate it.” Yennefer challenged. “Or I’ll simply push you off and learn by observation.”

Geralt raised an eyebrow in a gesture that clearly stated ‘I’d like to see you try.’ Yennefer stared him down, the two clearly caught in a silent match for dominance.

“Let Jaskier out.” Geralt was the one to break their silence. “Only then.”

“Say please.” Yennefer challenged.

Geralt stayed quiet.

“Oh Geralt, come on!” Jaskier threw his arms out. “It’s one word, we’re so close- give the crazy child what she wants?”

Geralt’s jaw tensed, his teeth gritted. “...please.”

Yennefer smirked in triumph, sauntering over to the cage. “And I thought manners killed witchers. Perhaps you’re not all uncivilized urchins.”

The moment Jaskier was free he zoomed over to Geralt’s side, tugging at the boy’s hair. “Alright, we did it, time to go!”

Geralt looked at him as though he’d gone mad. “Jaskier, she let you go. I need to help her.”

“She also kidnapped me.” Jaskier hissed, clearly still peeved to be in the nursery at all.

“And you both spied on me first.” Yennefer frowned. “We can play the blame game all night.”

“No need.” Geralt brushed Jaskier to the side, easily stepping towards Yennefer. “I’ll teach you to fly.”

Jaskier felt his heart shattering, watching Geralt so casually pass him by. This was his big fear, the reason he had flown ahead to try and lock the nursery window. Geralt had fallen head over heels for Yennefer the past few nights and that was before she was even awake. Now Geralt continued to take her side, even when she proved herself to be a dangerous fairy-napper.

The music fairy huffed, sliding down to sulk atop the bookshelf. With his luck, Geralt would want to do something reckless like invite the girl back to neverland.

#badthingshappenbingo #the witcher #gilded cage #g/t #giant/tiny #fairies #fairy #fairy!jaskier #young!geralt #young!yennefer #yennefer #geralt #jaskier #peter pan #peter pan AU #peter pan witcher AU

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crearuru · 3 years

Text

The Color of Affection, part 3

Pairing: marthadelle (martha x adelle), bravely default 2

Wordcount: 3,662

Adelle had dressed for the cold, thank to Martha's coat, but she was fortunate enough not to have to deal with another blizzard. The smaller monsters on the way to the Frosty Forest were simple enough, but guarding the entrance to the grove was a Goliath; grotesque, massive, mutated mounds of pink and purple flesh, said to be formed from piles of corpses of those who died on the battlefield. This one must be from the First War of the Heavensbow... What was that, a hundred years back? Two hundred? Edna had mentioned wars as something that humans did, and Lady Esmeralda oft warned of how violent humans could be, but her sister was always hesitant to describe in detail their aftermath. Looking at the Goliath, Adelle could see why. Such gory details would've only stirred up even more worry about humans, and Adelle knew her sister wasn't keen on dissuading the residents of Mag Mell from human interaction any more than they already were.

Adelle steeled herself, wishing to take this enemy out while making as little contact as possible. Her sword was definitely the way to go, if she didn't want to catch Contagion. She analyzed where the connective tissue binding the monstrosity together lay, hoping to incapacitate the creature by amputating it without rupturing any of the purple boils littering its body. The smell of battle was going to be awful...

Initiating a surprise attack only after the creature's back was turned, she stabbed her longsword deep into the back of its right arm, and then used her weight as leverage to slice the blade through. The Goliath roared, Sickly Spittle dripping from its maw. It swung around to see whatever had attacked it from behind, but Adelle's sword was stuck fast, and she clung to it for dear life. The momentum from such a large foe kept Adelle spinning, and with a sickening snap the tendons holding together the creature's arm were severed, sending Adelle careening about thirty feet away, faceplanting in the snow. Stabbing her sword downward and using it to pull herself up, she realized the Goliath had seen her... and it was NOT pleased, to say the least. It charged her, and she realized she would not get another opportunity to disassemble this unholy monument to violence, and so she waited. The beast was 20 feet away now. 10. Right as the beast lunged for her, she jumped up, landing upon its "head" (if such a thing could be said to truly have a head as we would recognize it) with a downwards stab. It flailed blindly, for a moment, but it could not right itself with its arm removed, and so, after a minute of thrashing, the beast fell apart, to dust. It left no items behind.

That's one source of Contagion the world won't be needing to worry about anymore... Cleaning off her weapons in the snow, and dusting off her hands, Adelle made her way inside the Frosty Forest.

The paths wound back and forth, though it wasn't as confusing as the Wayward Woods had been set up to be. The skeleton mercenaries did not seem to notice her, and the Coppices were easily avoided once you knew what to look for, although Adelle had indeed learnt what to look for the hard way. Crossing a fallen tree that had long ago settled into its role as a makeshift bridge, she followed more winding paths until she reached the innermost part of the forest. She was tired from her fights with the lesser monsters, as well as the Goliath, but at least she was warm.

Looking around, Adelle spotted the calmagrass, as expected. It was the only thing resembling grass in the frigid terrain, so it wasn't hard to miss. At least Martha hadn't sent her into a trap. That's a 100% success rate on humans not luring her into a trap so far! That surely bode well, yes? All humans could stand to be more like Martha, or at least, Adelle thought so.

After gathering up a bundle about the size of a folded winter coat, Adelle set back to the Serpent's Grotto mostly without incident... Mostly. She heard voices as she approached the cave, and, fearing a potential confrontation, hid beside the entrance to the cave in such a manner as to not be visible to those exiting.

"I trust there have been no... problems, Guardian Martha?" The voice was drawn out, sounding not unlike an instruments whose strings were pulled too taut. It was a deeper voice than she was used to hearing, from fairies or from Martha, and so she presumed this might be an example of a "male"? The voice certainpy presented itself with a mightier-than-thou inflection. Adelle wasn't sure if it was all male humans who were like that, or just this one, but the voice sounded... Snakelike.

Martha sighed. The new Bishop, Helio, was pressing her for details. How he would've made the rank of Bishop so quickly without understanding that the Grotto was not a streetcorner for gossip, Martha did not know, but he was certainly acting the fool. "No, Bishop Helio, there have been no issues." She did not trust the new man with information of Master Gwydion's injury. Helio practically had TROUBLE writ across his face, in big bold letters. But, he was a fellow priest of high-rank, despite his relatively recent arrival, and a certain respect was due.

"Are you sure? Archbishop Dominec says that the Lord of Dragons has to communicate to him through the ether now, due to failing health. It would be a shame if any harm were to befall the savior of Rhimedhal." The man's face was drawn up in a false smile. He knew he was riling her up.

Martha winced. She had been meaning to tell the Archbishop, but was waiting on supplies for the Master first. She could not leave His side to communicate to others His wishes.

"I'm telling you, Bishop Helio, everything is under control. I'll not let anything bad happen to the Master if I have anything to say about it."

"Are you sure that a... woman, of your make, can really do much? It just seems that I should be able to assign someone more-"

Martha's spear was at the Bishop's neck before he could finish his sentence. She didn't have to put up with this.

"Might I remind you, Bishop, that my father was the Guardian before me. I'll not see his legacy tarnished, I assure you. Now run along before you wake the Master." As she said that, she pressed the spear ever so gently against the Bishop's neck, with enough control to draw only a pinprick of blood. "I must remind you that you are to afford your peers the same respect afforded to them by their positions as you yours." A smile, as she cocked her head. The slight edge to her voice softened, the words she spoke rang like bells as she bid the Bishop: "Now, have a nice day, and a safe trip back to town."

Helio's outward composure was cool and calm, but on the inside, he felt a fury that could not be put into words. This rough, coarse woman is in over her head. As soon as he got the seeds of his plan settled into the hearts of Rhimedhal's citizens, he would have the last laugh. As for now, it would be best to watch himself. Martha carried more sway in Rhimedhal than he did... for now.

"Thank you very much for your... hospitality, Guardian Martha. I apologize for my trespasses. May the Lord of Dragons preserve thee." He took a step backwards, then two more, turning around only when out of the immediate range of Martha's spear.

Once the stranger was gone, the gleam of his golden neck adornment nowhere to be found, Adelle slowly crept out of hiding and into the entrance of the cave. She caught a glance of chestnut hair round a corner into the cavern, and as she quickened her pace, accidentally kick a loose pebble.

Martha, thinking Helio may have come back to harangue her some more, turned on her heel, prepared to give a "lecture" of her own, when she saw Adelle's startled face looking back at her. Martha eased her grip on her spear, and the irritation writ upon her face was quickly cast away in favor of the familiar smile Adelle knew.

"What was that all about, Martha? Who was that?"

Ugh. Martha didn't want to think about the Bishop a moment longer than neccessary. Leading Adelle back towards Master Gwydion's chamber, she figured she owed at least some explanation. "Just a pain in my rear, questioning me because he's got it in his head that he needs to make some big, sweeping changes now that he's got himself appointed Bishop. At least he took a break from rambling on about the 'fairy menace' he's always playing up to the townsfolk. 'Menace' my ass. No one's seen a fairy in hundreds of years!"

Adelle's lips were drawn taut. So, there were humans that still hated fairies. It's true no fairies had left Mag Mell in centuries, save for... the Queen, but humans truly called fairies a menace? At least Martha seemed not to put too much stock in that belief...

"Despite being a mercenary, I haven't travelled all that much yet. Is this 'fairy menace' something most settlements believe is a problem?" Adelle did her best to keep her voice steady. She seemed to be doing a pretty good job...

"Oh, heavens no! It's a load of rubbish that most nations don't put any stock into. When Helio started bringing it up to the town, he had Archbishop Dominec eating out of the palm of his hand. Made him Bishop soon enough. Though, I'm certain he must have other qualities that make him suitable for the position. It's just... strange, is all. Him being promoted so quickly, I mean. I know I've mostly kept to myself in this sacred place, all these years, but you'd think I would've met Helio while I still lived in the capital, while my father tended the Grotto. Never heard the name 'til he started making a stir of things."

Martha didn't say this, but she had read up on fairies, as a child. The children in town used to play games involving 'flight' that had to be shut down pretty quickly. Said they wanted to fly like fairies, whose grace was said to be otherworldly. Oh, Galahad sure was entertaining, being so stern when his sister Gladys would jump down the stairs. Until the incident with their parents, Martha remembered having fun with the rest of them...

It was a shame, truly. There were rumors of a cloaked figure, dagger in hand, lurking around the property. But their parents didn't make it. Throats slashed, in their sleep, red rivers running out the door and down the stairs. Galahad and Gladys had been out late that night, playing fairies, jumping off of forts of packed snow, into the fresh white mounds below. The poor dears came back only to find that accursed trail. They alerted the guards, who followed it, but then when they saw it came out the open door of their home... Galahad was sent away. Gladys was still in town, but...

The children stopped playing fairies after that. It was around that timeframe Martha's da died, and she moved out to Serpent's Grotto. She heard from Gladys once in a while. That someone was putting posters of fairies up around town. More disappearances. They had stopped, about a decade ago. Martha hoped the town was safe again. It should be, right? With more priests to keep the peace?

Adelle, for her part, was too consumed in thought of her own to interrupt Martha's long, contemplative pause. Were humans still afraid? Would they kill her if they knew? Would they kill her if they didn't know? Just how violent were they? Why had her sister expressed such a fondness for them?

Adelle looked at Martha again, and she knew. She knew why the fondness remained. Her chestnut hair, her stunning smile, her emerald eyes, the softness of her skin... Though, there was another color in those eyes...

They reached the Lord of Dragons' chamber. Martha made to examine Gwydion's wounds.

"You brought the calmagrass back. This... should be enough. Thank you, Adelle." Martha resolved to dwell less upon the past, for the time being. She had more than enough time to think on it when she was alone; she needn't sully time with company present. It was such a precious rarity.

Adelle handed over the bundle of calmagrass, and Martha set aside about half of it, then half again of that. She brought it to the stovetop, lit the fire, filled the pot with water from the falls in the back of the chamber. As she set the grass to boil, a minty smell began to permeate the room.

"It smells like... Mint?"

"Definitely doesn't TASTE like mint, I assure you." Gwilym's piped up. "The texture of the paste is almost as bad."

"Oh, Gwilym, there's no need to raise such a fuss. It's not like you're the one who will be taking the medicine." Martha smiled as she pet the top of Gwilym's head for a moment, then sat beside the pot, stirring it every once in a while to ensure the calmagrass didn't stick to the sides.

"So is it to be taken orally, or..?" Adelle wasn't quite sure on how the medicine was to be prepared. It couldn't hurt to learn how.

"It can be taken orally, or applied as a salve. Though, to be safe, I tend to give both kinds of dose when the Master grows ill. It's been a while since the last time he took it, though." Martha looked over to Gwydion at that, the concern on her face writ clear as day. Adelle hoped that all humans might be so empathetic. She wouldn't hold her breath, though.

An hour passes, then another as the two sit, both trying to forget about Helio. Adelle told her companion a story about the time she got stuck in the branches of a tree and couldn't get out until someone noticed the rustling of branches and muttered cursing. Martha, in turn, told Adelle some of the details of the children playing fairies. She left out the more gruesome details, but Adelle seemed... uncertain, hearing about fairies.

If Adelle had indeed looked to be uncertain, well, that would be because she was. How could humans forget the conflict of the Night's Nexus, the very thing which drove fairies into hiding? Were the humans just forgetful, or... or was it that the positive memories of fairies outweighed their perception of danger? Could it be that hatred of fairies was instilled later in life, or was it just a recent development in this region? And what of other regions, would they kill her on sight? Was Martha just exceptionally kind, or was she indicative of the greater portion of humans? The man she heard earlier certainly didn't seem very friendly...

"Adelle? Did I say something wrong?" Martha had gently placed her hand on Adelle's shoulder, in a gesture seemingly meant to comfort her. Adelle shook her head.

"No, I'm just... Interested in fairies, I suppose. Is the Lord of Dragons' paste ready? I still need to ask about my sister."

"Yes, it's just about done. A moment, please." Martha had set about cooling the pot about twenty minutes prior. What was once a hunk of wet calmagrass had settled into a white, gelatinous paste, with flecks and strips of green scattered throughout it. She took a handful of the calmagrass she set aside earlier and approached Gwydion.

"Master Gwydion, it's time for your medicine." The massive dragon stirred, trails of smoke rising from his nostrils.

"Is it time, already? It seems as though I fell asleep such a short while ago..." Stretching out his wings, Gwydion revealed a great sore along the side of his chest. Martha set the raw calmagrass on a stone before him, that he might not suffer the indignity of being hand fed in old age. As he set about attempting to sweep the bitter medicine up with his tongue, Martha began applying the salve to the sore. With this, the dragon winced, before easing back into slumber.

Adelle sat in silence for about half an hour, watching Martha diligently apply and massage the salve into the wound without pause. She wondered as to how best integrate herself in the areas the Lord of Dragons might point her towards. Hopefully it would be somewhere a bit warmer.

The dragon's head rose once more, a rumble emanating from his chest into the stone which comprised the cavern. "You, stranger. You have come to ask of your sister?"

"My sister Edna, yes."

"A moment, then." Gwydion attuned himself to the mountains, feeling the snow, the wind, the cold; he was his domain, as his domain was he. He felt the bones of the earth, mineral desposits stretching deep into the mountains, into the stone below. He heard the wind's whispers, the thud of snow collapsing a tree's branch. The trace of powerful magic, having left but not long ago. Yes, he knew where Edna had gone.

"Your sister has been making quite a journey around these parts. Go to the town of Enderno, west from the southern bridge. You will find supplies there. Or you might go west, to Rhimedhal's capital. If you go to Enderno, you should head further still to the south, to Wiswald. She has been passing these 'heirlooms' around, it would seem."

Adelle bowed to the dragon, appreciative of his help. "Thank you for your help. I'll be going now."

"Adelle wait. Before you go, I..." Martha looked to have reluctantly accepted her time with Adelle was nearly done for the foreseeable future. But she had promised something to her friend. "I promised you, if you brought me the calmagrass, that I would show you something. Before you go, I'd like to make good on that promise, if you've the time."

"I may have the time. What is it?"

"We'll need to wait just a moment longer. The stars should be out soon."

It was late in the day, Adelle thought. I'd already be getting a late start on the day's travels; waiting a bit longer won't kill me. Not with Martha, I don't think.

And so the two waited. As the sun set, they bundled up together, each enjoying the feeling of the other beside them, close, and warm. Another bottle of firewine hadn't hurt things, either.

"The stars should be out now. Follow me." As Martha stood, she pulled Adelle up by her hand, the two leaving the cave together, each with an arm around the other.

"Might I lift you, Adelle?"

"Excuse me?"

"Oh just answer the question, silly."

"...You may."

Martha swept Adelle off her feet, and with tremendous force pushed off from the ground, sending the two of them skyward. She was excited to show Adelle what the world looked like from up high.

Adelle hadn't thought Martha could jump this high. She must've been limited by the indoor nature of the cave during our fight. It was surprising to see a human who was able to understand the beauty of soaring through the air, not a care in the world. The wind on your face, cold as it was (though the warmth of Martha's chest she was held tight against helped tremendously with the cold, even despite her armor.) The view of the ground zooming past you, the ruffling of your clothes in the breeze, the way the stars remained just out of reach... Adelle had a feeling the next set of humans she met weren't going to have such a mastery of the skies. Perhaps Martha's skills... not, not perhaps. There was no mistaking that Martha's jumps were a result of training with an Asterisk. It would explain her questionable choice of attire, as well. But... she couldn't take flight from Martha. Perhaps the only human she would ever meet who could grasp flight.

"It's... beautiful, isn't it Martha?"

"Yeah... It is. Have you ever seen anything like it?" Martha clutched Adelle ever tighter against her as they fell to the ground, immediately jumping once more.

"You could say that...~"

"What do you mean, could say that?"

"Hey, I've been spilling the beans about my life for a good day or so. A woman has to keep a little bit of mystery about her, right?"

The coy wink Adelle gave drove Martha batty. She may never know what Adelle meant, but the happiness on her face at the majesty of the winter mountains' majesty was undeniable. The two leapt and bounded across the peaks, the Aurora above providing the perfect backdrop to the night.

Deep into the night, the two returned to the cave, giddy and hotfaced despite the bitter cold of the mountains. They wrapped eachother in blankets and slept peacefully after a night of raucous debauchery, for the firewine tasted so much better with someone to share it with, and despite Adelle's remaining fear of humans... Martha was nice. She was sure of it, even before the wine took the edge off.

In the morning, Adelle woke groggily. She smiled as she saw Martha beside her, but she knew she had to go find her sister.

She knew if she let Martha keep her Asterisk, then she'd have an excuse to come see her again. She gathered her supplies, and, despite giving Martha a peck on the cheek before leaving, otherwise made sure not to disturb Martha. As she stepped out from the chambers, she waved goodbye to Gwylim and Gwydion.

And so she set out for Wiswald.

#bd2 martha #bd2 adelle #helio #bishop helio #surprise surprise bishop helio is sexist and or transphobic #apparently i really like commas #bd2 spoilers #bdii spoilers #i dont even wanna know how many words this is it feels longer than the other chapters #the color of affection #prequel fic #marthadelle

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jlf23tumble · 5 years

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Agree so much with your post about the teams and fan engagement ! And love the way you articulated all of that. Although now I definitely am interested in knowing what your notes about the specificity of each team/artist cause I feel like they'd be fascinating to read. Hope you'll post them some day, and thank you for sharing your thoughts with us ! 😊

Awwww, that’s very kind! It’s definitely head canon city, I litcherally have ZERO clue what goes on behind the scenes (and I can’t stress this enough, none of us do), so this’ll look hilariously dated when we find out that blah woof was true all along, lmao (me @ myself, thinking of some random Grimshaw interviews from last fall, oh, bless). Let’s dig in!!

For those of you who just stumbled upon this post, it’s related to the one I made last night about how I think the management teams of all these men (mid-20s means = you’re a man, not a boy) are not, in fact, sabotaging them. They negotiate a lot of tricky interconnected arrangements that none of us are privy, to, plus they’re at least trying to achieve the goals their clients are going for. And they’re doing it—the trick is these goals are highly individual and not 100% sensical (at least given our own view from the afternoon, Arctic Monkeys ref, holllllllah!!!).

In addition, these goals constantly shift, as does the music industry itself—I drive my own self loony when I lurk on blogs that are seemingly broadcasting from 2012, confused by why xx’s team is so “terrible” because they aren’t throwing good money after bad to get on a radio playlist, or why they haven’t announced yy “properly,” as if they’re being paid to worry about this level of shit (which fires me up on about five levels, deep breaths in, deep breaths out). I’m much nosier about the signals we’re getting when we hear them talk in their beautifully media-trained way about their musical interests, when we get some of that sweet, sweet fan service with a Gallagher or a Capaldi, when we get that heads up about who’s attending what concert, stuff like that. These signals don’t necessarily indicate future collaborations, but they DO indicate what kind of image these guys want to have, the kind of music they want the public to associate them with.

Anyway, I’m getting ahead of myself…their personalities and goals at the moment are all so vastly different, and I truly do love seeing how their teams are workin’ it accordingly. Again, please @ god, don’t @ me…opinions, massively unpopular opinions, dead ahead!

* Zayn. My read on Zayn is that he enjoys the creative process, loves writing and singing, digs collabing with people, but he doesn’t seem to give two shits about the biz side (and why should he? that’s called living the dream at this particular point in his career). His website recently added “tour,” which EYEBALL EYEBALL, but he doesn’t seem to be all that interested in putting himself back out on stage or into radio/print/etc. anytime soon, and again, why should he? His numbers are HUGE without pushing himself through the anxiety-provoking churn he endured for four years, so there’s no real drive for him to do any promo if he doesn’t want to (see: the netflix-like binge dump of Icarus Falls, which could be “sabotage,” or it could just be, “fineeeeeeee, here’s some stuff for you, enjoy”). What other artist gifts his fans with gorgeous covers of such a wide variety of songs that indicate he’s more interested in sharing them than selling them. Accordingly, his fan interactions seem fairly pure and not all that promo-y: he has a keen interest in fanart, he’s done some fan pop-ups/listening parties that are pretty low-key and *seemingly* fan-focused, and recently (with zero anything to really promote), he’s been posing for cute pics and chatting with randos on the streets of NYC. I recently read that his mgmt team is no longer with him, but that sort of folds into my feeling that he’s not pursuing anything biz-wise, hence no need to jump through those particular hoops (I think he’s also struggled with a lot of demons, so yeah, why add one more). Could he be adrift? Maybe, but the next guy is the posterman for lack of focus….

* Liam. Honestly, I worry about Liam most of all. His post-1D career seems very much adrift, and I like to joke that he’s giving me that tell-all about the D one sentence at a time, but goddamn, are people listening? The struggles with alcohol, the lack of focus on every level, the reliance on his dad’s career advice (which more clearly reflects his dad’s financial class, background, and history than it does Liam’s), and the overall confusion about look, sound, and direction also flow back directly into his team. I get the feeling that they aren’t sure what to do because LIAM isn’t sure what to do or what he wants, so they follow in his wake. He’s agreeable to a fault, so seeing him at a meet-and-greet at an HMV in Birmingham last week felt like a step back into 2010 for no real reason, just like hearing that he was more or less coerced into full nude photoshoots for an underwear ad (the decisions to say yes to both of those—who’s steering this ship? If it’s Liam, he needs to tell the team his overall goal, so they can plot a course he and his fans can follow; if it’s the team, ditto). Like Niall, Liam’s actually pretty good at the SM game: lots of selfies, snapchat filters, outfits, gym service, twitter interactions. But generally speaking, his promo is confusing, and that’s probably because there isn’t much *to* promote at this point, other than a mix of collabs, clothing endorsements, spon con, horse farms, and an album that’s always on the horizon. This might be tied to the general post-1D jolt they all went through, like a plane coming off autopilot and into the hands of someone who’s just learning how to fly it. Zayn debuted at number one, so his bump wasn’t as harsh, but the others are slowly, steadily finding their footing after taking some time to find themselves and their sound, releasing songs/albums, performing (or in Louis’s case, going through unspeakable tragedy). Liam’s still adrift…and somewhat admittedly, which is kind of telling in its own way. Just know that my nervousness on his behalf ratchets up every time he feels the urge to assure us all that he’s happy.

* Niall. Truly the one following the original 1D template, right down to working with most of the same people but with more of the overall control in his hands instead of a faceless management squad. Of any of them, he seems the most ambitious, the most scientific about the sound he’s after and how he’s gonna get there. His promo is a mix of new and traditional—radio shows, talk shows, podcasts, special events, twitter interactions with fans, twitter interactions with entertaining celebrities—and it’s all hustle hustle hustle, build build build, as if he were a new ingenue instead of coming up hard on solo album number two. He’s explicit in his goals, which is refreshing, but it means he walks a weird line with fans: on one hand, he’s done with their bullshit, get ready to get rekt if you start commenting on his boring food seasoning or home décor. But on the other hand, he fully recognizes how much he needs them, which is why we get so many peeks into his “normal” life (yet zero percent of his actual personal life). It’s also probably why the blatant tweets of the last two days seem so jarring to me (I might be alone on this one, but I’m not a fan of directives in general, and asking me to call radio stations on behalf of a rich white man to become even richer just rubs me the wrong way, same with asking me to stream stuff to get you to number one…you’ve been there, buddy, how about you calm down and build some character at number 51). And speaking of calming down, it does fascinate me that both Niall and Louis namecheck Taylor Swift as someone who gets the whole fandom push/pull thing right, so watching them try to reverse-engineer her secrets is fun. Louis nails it (that hotspot treasure hunt: chef’s kiss), but Niall’s heavy-handed easter egg dump in NTMY, she would never!! I think Niall’s team needs to watch “Calm Down” about five more times before they try that again.

* Louis. I think Louis honestly has an AMAZING team in place, and they’re all clearly on his side, which makes for a refreshing change. Like Niall, he has publicly praised Taylor Swift for how she engages with her fans, but I think he’s missing a key point: she doesn’t let her fans dictate strategy, and I HOPE that’s the case for Louis, too. His old team *was* shit, so yeah, encouraging people to do fan projects to get the word out was a good idea, but turning that spigot off to let a good (paid) team step in and take over has been, uh, challenging. He’s dealt with more than his fair share of personal tragedy, but every time he gets some momentum going, it feels like something bts pushes him back off track, and he tends to keep it private, which only makes his hardest-core fans scream “sabotage.” Rightly so, he’s focusing on his personal life, and rightly so, his team is giving him the space to do that, even when it costs cash money and throws a lot of shit seriously for a loop. It makes my heart soar to see the potential of what his team can do/is doing, how much space he’s being allowed to process what he needs to process. Weirdly, that’s an unpopular opinion, and a lot of people want to indulge in an angst wank fest where Louis’s the victim of a terrible team that won’t DO anything (nevermind the fact that he’s probably ASKED them not to do anything), so they undertake a tremendous amount of performative unpaid labor that ends up being counterproductive on just about every front. Even worse, most of them can’t seem to process the fact that losing your mum is a blow, losing your SISTER is a blow, juggling other siblings or close friends handling some serious demons of their own in the aftermath of all of *that* is a blow, let alone handling your own personal coping mechanisms, nope, they want Louis to release release release, perform perform perform, c’mon, what’s holding him back, he *said* he wanted to release an album this year, there’s “no reason” for a delay, gotta be his shitty team, free him. It drives me ‘round the bend because it’s the same talk from late last year, you know, when we later found out that at least one family member was losing a fight with drug addiction. Louis’s fan engagement/promo is therefore hella fraught: he has to balance LouisTM on twitter (Mr. Donny, he’s hard, mate), his werk IG posts, and his constant edging because nobody can remember or trust that he’s got this, that multiple things are in play. But he also knows his fanbase, knows that it’s resistant to any kind of change, so I hope he pushes through and stays true to what he wants to do. I was really encouraged with his last promo round because he seems to have narrowed in on a something solid, he’s got a plan, and it’s not, “hey mr dj, put my record on,” it’s getting his fans to trust that he and his team know what the fuck they’re doing, and spoiler alert, it ain’t radio, but go ahead and keep pissing off djs by sending angry tweets their way. (Related: why is it so bad to avoid the radio when all of us admit that radio music is garbage? Is it because it’s more about you than him? Much to think about.)

* Harry. My very favorite head canon is that Harry is Jeff’s nightmare client: what was perfection at first because the Azoffs are old-school promo all the way (no SM, baby, gimme that sweet, sweet paper), and that dovetailed nicely with post-1D Harry, but it quickly veered into mulish teeth pulling. Low profile can quickly spin into no profile, and that really doesn’t work too well when you’re trying to sell sell sell, even if your brand is Harry StylesTM. HS1 and Dunkirk in their own separate ways worked VERY hard to push past the still-persistent way the general public views Harry as boybander Harry Styles, or more accurately, former boybander Harry Styles who dated Taylor Swift (if you venture out and ask someone who’s not a fan), but what I love about Harry is that much like Zayn, he doesn’t seem to be too bothered by all that. Sure, he’s ambitious, he wants to challenge himself and do things, but he’s no Niall Horan. He’s put in his time! If he gets a number one, then cool, but he’s not gonna chase it. And this is where Harry’s team really reflects his goals and energy: sure, they want him to do some promo (that “Do” tweet, the entire bit about the fan in Australia and Harry Lambert’s follow, goddddd, I loved it, petty Harry, resigned Jeff), but they clearly aren’t forcing him. He drops a song that makes a HUGE splash, and the follow-up is…liking some tweets and going to a John Mayer concert (not a John Mayer fan, so that wouldn’t be my first choice, but I respond to the zero fucks given about the whole thing). The music industry has changed a LOT in just two years, so it’s kind of cool to see team Harry pivoting a bit, seeing more SM interaction, the kindness generator, etc., but that said, the team takes their cues from him, and he clearly doesn’t want to do a whole promo circuit beyond persons a, b, and c, and magazine R, F, and A. Does it make sense to have Rob Sheffield write a profile about Stevie Nicks-blessed shroom-eater Harry Styles when his new song sounds like the Zarry combo of my dreams? NOPE, but that’s okay, Harry wanted to talk to Rob, so that’s what happened. The new song is more streaming friendly, and thank CHRIST, a lot less crusty white dude stuck in the ‘70s, so I can only hope that the rest of the album is thus, but we shall see! We’ll also see if Harry’s fan engagement shifts any further into the active zone…so far, it’s been “I’m gonna follow some larries, like these fun generator posts, check out a few dads” and staged photo ops with the same familiar faces, but I think he’s dealing with his own major bts issues as well (album delayed at least twice; that entire stalking situation). I still contend the album’s coming in the next few weeks, so it’ll be interesting to see if/how any additional promo rolls out in this new world order post-gryles landscape, how many interviews he’ll do, but I like that there’s a strategy that seems less stodgy…kudos to the new SM team, at least!!

Oh man, that got really long! Hope you enjoyed, and YES, opinions opinions opinions, and they’ll be stupid in about three weeks’ time, thanks for coming to my already dated buzzfeed article

#so many long-winded opinions #one direction #yeah #and shout out to kim for always checking my work!!!

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thatweirdmod · 4 years

Text

Beriphitar’s Pillage 1

A cigarette leaks smoke from the corner of my frown as I work, hacking the neglected path clear again with my machete. My garden bed should be back here. I grow all kinds of things.

There's magenta irilis which gives my "snacks" and snacks their unique, fresh, lovely flavor. It also adds a nice touch of color, I think. Then there's the weight pullers: tall, weedy drogul plants, harsh smelling buds of grengis, and the innocent looking but deceptively potent white composite flowers, yequin.

Don't wanna remember all that? Don't worry; all you need to know is that they're drugs and drug enhancers, and people want what I harvest out here. It's a mixed bag, this business. It gets me into all sorts of mess with people, but I wouldn't do it, you know, unless it payed the bills.

And it does that, really well in fact. I huff I sigh into the humid air, grateful that at least it's relatively cool, and I'm finally through. I look over the state of my garden, and observe, unsurprised, that the rest of the evening must be spent weeding.

The middle class in my town is probably what's called riffraff elsewhere, and whether we're farmers, craftsmen, or prostitutes, we spend much of our time bent over.

I stretch occasionally when my back aches. I wonder if it's normal for a guy my age to have back and shoulder pain at rest, though. I grit my teeth and shrug it off when it happens, because it's not like it's a surprise, for how long I've been working the land.

Despite all the violence, dishonesty and threats I have to contend with in my line of work, I love this time after I've finished doing something. I feel small yet accomplished as I look up at the starry night sky, unpolluted and uncontested by city lights. On the ground, darkness, dirt, leaves and chirping surround me. I'm alone in the most perfect sense, but then I have to go back home into the residential district of town.

I trudge out of the woods, tired and hungry by now, and looking forward to getting home. I hop on my scooter. I'd call it something like "Trusty Rusty", but even though it's old, I take care of my things, so it's not rusty at all. I buzz down town, taking the back roads so I don't really run into anyone. My house is modest, but comfortable. Some dust can't be helped out here, but I've put my foot down against mildew, stains, and muck.

I strip out of my rough, dirt-crusted pants and torn shirt, enjoy a hot shower, and put on some fresh clothes. As I'm enjoying my warm meal, a knock sounds on my door.

I open up in my boxers and shabby grey t-shirt, with my usual lazy-eyed, irreverent expression.

"What do you want?", I ask the guy standing there.

We're friends, I guess, but only because I lack a better word. Reyfon scratches his messy brown hair and laughs lightly.

"I came to talk to you about that thing."

His thick glasses and somewhat shy demeanor would kind of suggest and innocent young man, but many of his actions paint a corrupted picture.

Truth is, I totally forgot about whatever event we have planned, but I just say, "Okay", like I was planning on him showing up at my doorstep in the middle of my beans and rice.

He steps in on his nervously light feet. I watch as he does a brief, sweeping glance over my home. I never say anything, but man, do I hate it when people evaluate and scrutinize me or my stuff like that. Reyfon smiles. "Looks like you're still your usual neat self."

"It hasn't been that long", I reply.

"Yeah, I guess so", he says. "Maybe a couple of weeks?"

"I bet you've had your hands even fuller than mine", I say.

"Yeah. It feels pretty hectic adjusting to the influx of tourists, no matter how many summers I spend at the brewery."

Reyfon comes from a family of artisans- brewers. While I haven't particularly missed him, I have missed the free beer. I look down and sure enough, I see one of the reasons why I always graciously pardon his intrusions into my home. "Oh", he says, lifting up the paper bag once he notices my eyes have locked on it. "Here."

I immediately take it, put it on the table, and unpack the assortment of pricey drinks, darks, lights, ales, ambers, et cetera. Needless to say, I'm very pleased. "Thanks", I say, then pause. "I suppose you want me to thank you some other way as well."

Reyfon smirks and nods. I'll have to help him again. "You know my father's health has been declining", he begins.

"Yeah."

"More and more of the responsibilities for the business have come down to me, my older brother, and kid sister." Then he scoffs, "Well, mostly me and Veralia. Yet, according to the tradition of favoring the eldest, the one to inherit the brewery will be Theorion. You know my brother, arrogant and lazy, and worse, incompetent and irresponsible. It wouldn't 100% be up to him even if he were the owner, but with enough poor decisions and investments, he could end up making a mess of generations of our family's hard work. So please, help rid us of this pest."

I grow tense, and hold up my hand. "Hold on. This sounds pretty serious. Knocking off some poor scrubs from the west side of hick town is simple, something nobody cares too much about. But now you're asking me to help kill the heir of a wealthy business. Everyone knows you guys around here, and whatever happens to him, it will thoroughly investigated."

"I know it's too much to ask as a friend, so on my word, you will be compensated generously", Reyfon says.

So far, I'm not too keen on this, but that word, "generously" hangs in the air tantalizingly.

"Do you even have a plan yet?", I ask.

"I was hoping you could take care of everything on that front. Of course, though, I'll provide whatever inside info you might need."

"I'm taking a huge risk here, hitting such a prominent target, but how much would you be willing to give me for this?"

"How does 10,000 buckaroos sound?"

"Nice try. This could break my life, so I need enough money to make it if this goes well. 20,000 buckaroos."

Reyfon cringes a little, but says, "Okay. I'll pay you after it's done."

I frown. "You think you're the one of us who trusts the other less? Who's at the other's mercy? You'll pay me before, or there's no way I'm doing shit."

"Hey, it doesn't have to be like that", he says. "How about a compromise? I pay 10,000 upfront, and the other half after it's done."

"15,000 up front."

"Fine. So you'll do it, then?"

I pause for a moment. "Yeah."

"Great", Reyfon says with a small smile, sighing in relief, as if assassinating his brother were an innocent request like any other. "I should be going then. Enjoy the brews. This could earn you a lifetime supply, Beriphitar."

With that, he left, leaving me standing, trying to keep myself from slowly being overwhelmed by what the fuck I'd just agreed to do. Nothing was set it writing. I could still back out, but I feel that that would be unacceptable for me. But then I get another idea. If I'm going to do something like this, if I'm going to take this kind of risk, might as well go all out. It seems like Reyfon can pay me, easily, whenever this gets done. That makes me suspect that the Greyhorns have a lot of cash sitting around.

The next day, Reyfon meets me at my house again. He answers all my questions not only without hesitation, but with enthusiasm. As far as he is concerned, we're in the process of turning his scheme into reality. At the end, I know the schedules of the inhabitants of the house, their maids, and Reyfon even gives me a detailed map of the layout of the house when I ask where his brother's bedroom is.

For better or worse, Reyfon decides that he should be out during the assassination. Actually, it's for the better.

The next night, I lie on my stomach in the dark, rich carpet soft against my chin. Reyfon graciously left the back door unlocked after he left this evening. I came in, went up two flights of stairs to Theorion's room, or chambers if you will, because it's like a whole pad in here- a big personal bathroom, dining and sitting area, and bedroom. I've been camped under his bed for like two hours, waiting for him to come back, hopefully alone.

I snap into tenseness when I hear whoozy female giggling and a good mooded, but douchey male voice approaching. Figures a fuckboy would be bringing a girl back with him. No matter. I prepared for the possibility of having to dispatch multiple targets quickly and silently, but maybe I should've hidden in the closet. Getting out is going to be awkward.

The door opens. "I wanna see that awesome shower you were telling me about!" The girl says. Theorion replies, "Yeah, well how about I give you a tour?" Their flirty tone and words are obviously telling of plans for a shower fuck, a way to bang that's highly overrated in the movies, but pretty good for me now.

Once they've rather stupidly sexy walked into the bathroom while swaying and groping, I start slipping out from under the bed. The bathroom is further down the wall, to my left. They left the door open, but cannot see me as I siddle along the wall towards it. Before they get in, or even have a chance to scream, I've swung out into the doorway, and fired a shot from my silenced pistol.

The pop goes off, and a bullet zips through the air, hitting its marks with beautiful precision. You see, I caught the love birds in a smooch, the guy's back to me. The bullet punches through the back of his head, and then tears through the front of hers. The blood and matter of two brains splatter, making a rather jarring contrast against the clean white and beige rugs, marble floor, and counter. I doubt very much that those were the kind of fluids they were planning on exchanging tonight.

I look up from their toppled bodies, and damn, that shower is pretty awesome. It's massive for one, and.. ah fuck it; this is not what I'm here for. I walk over to them. They'd make a pretty cute couple, just, not exactly like this. I shuffle through the guy's pockets and pull out his wallet. Very nice. The girl doesn't have anything worthwhile in her skirt pockets, but she's got something in the skirt.

According to Reyfon's info, I should have plenty of time. His sister's out having drinks with friends. His dad is emaciating in the hospital, and his mom is dead. So, I decide to help myself to what Theorion was about to have anyway. I brush the girl's wavy brown hair out of her face. It's sticky with the blood that's pouring out of the hole in her head and dripping down her face. Her hazel eyes are closed, her face didn't have time to contort into horror or surprise, so it's stranglely peaceful despite her undue and random end. She was pretty, well is, for all intents and purposes at the moment.

Ugh, it's like stripping a hundred pound sack of meat. Actually, it's exactly that. The human body is really a pain to move when it's dead weight. Getting my own clothes off only takes like 10 seconds. I stand buck naked in the bathroom with two dead bodies. I was mocking it earlier, but I drag the girl into the walk in shower anyway. I turn it on and warm water sprays from a marble seal's mouth. I flop the chick over the marble shower seat, kneel, and start pumping her from behind. It's only been minutes since she died, so her vag is still very warm.

Once I finish enjoying myself, I turn the shower off, dry myself with a towel, and get dressed again. I check my watch. It's only been 15 minutes since I killed Reyfon's older brother and his squeeze. My head is wonky. I can't remember whether I was supposed to leave the bodies or dispose of them.

I rush back over to the bed, and pull out the three bags that I brought with me. I pillage the house, rummaging through drawers, closets, and cabinets favoring speed only slightly more than precision. My last stop ends up being Reyfon's chambers. My 3rd bag is still empty.

After swiping a couple of snazzy watches and 200 buckaroos from around his room, I check under his bed. Sure enough, there are a couple of chests. They're locked, but I prepared for this. After being pried open with my crowbar, the chests reveal their treasure.

In one of them are various trinkets, an old scarf, a few journals, letters, papers- it seems to be a bunch of sentimentals mixed with important documents. The other contains cash, likely a lot of the money Reyfon was planning on paying to me. Upon looking through the bills appreciatively, something beneath the neatly bundled stacks catches my eye- five gold bars curtained beneath. Oh, I love this boy.

I pack the remaining bag, and just for the heck of it, I throw one of Reyfon's personal journals in. I never considered myself the gossipy sort, but who doesn't find it at least a little entertaining to stumble across the juicy secrets of someone they know? I sling my booty over my shoulders, make sure my mask is in place, and head on out of the house. Trusty Rusty is parked a block away.

I mount the scooter and buzz away into the temperate night. First thing I'll do later is buy a new bike, and a car too. This thing has been reliable, and I know how to fix it up, but I could have to make some serious distance, and I can already feel it slowing beneath me under the weight of my goods.

Reyfon plans to head back into his house, find the horrific scene and call the police. He plans to give an account, enjoy the sympathies, gifts and attention he will get as the victim of such a horrific tragedy, and prosper from here on out as the head of the brewery.

I park my bike at the dirt strip around the back of my little house called the backyard. I dip inside to drop off the bags, clean up, and change clothes. Taking my crowbar with me. Reyfon is hanging around a bar in town. I'm supposed to make an appearance there, so he knows that it has been done, but we're not to interact.

When I enter, he notices me immediately. He's probably been watching the door, scanning every patron that comes in. He turns back to his beer as soon as he sees who it is. Reyfon's eyes are clear; he's likely just been nursing that one drink this whole time. If he was gonna come to the bar as an alibi, then he should've at least made an effort to appear more casual about it, and maybe have brought a friend, and had a good time.

Thankfully, this bar also serves food. So while Reyfon is paying, I order a cheese sandwich and have them put it in paper lunch bag for me. I can leave shortly after he does, without looking too weird for not staying and drinking. I tail behind him as he walks down the street. I can tell he's nervous by the way his glasses constantly seem to need readjusting, and the paranoid glances back that I have to keep dodging.

He veers off eventually, into the shortcut through a patch woods that leads to the backyard of his family's mansion. It's here that I pounce. I remove the crowbar from my toolbelt rush forward. I hear him gasp at the sudden sound of feet rushing towards him. The crowbar hits just as his head finishes swiveling around, and his eyes see his attacker. After the big, dull thud he crumples to the ground, twitching a bit, but barely conscious.

As I bash his skull in, a few thoughts will pass through his brain before it mashes, asking why I've betrayed him. The answer? We are living in a material world, and I am a material boy. Hey, you wanna hear another quote? "People work together when it suits 'em. They're loyal when it suits 'em, love each other when it suits 'em, and they kill each other when it suits 'em." I get it, he didn't. And that's why he couldn't hold onto his life.

Reyfon's blood splatters onto my tattered beige work pants. After I finish and catch my breath, I observe. The face of the only person I ever really hung out with has been crushed into a bloody pulp of flesh that looks like fresh ground beef and bone chips. Frgaments of glass and pieces of the black frame from the young man's familiar glasses are mushed into the mess.

Something must be wrong with me to have such a compulsion, but my dick was out, hard, and being rubbed by my hand before I processed what was happening. My hand.. it's slippery with his blood, and it feels so good like this. I pleasure myself, looking down blankly at the battered corpse, lying on its stomach. I probably wouldn't even be able to tell that it was him if I found him like this.

My white, hot cum bursts forth onto the ground between his legs. I sigh and put my penis away, slightly dizzy from all the exertion of today. Brown leather peeks out from the back pocket of his blue jeans. Like an idiot, he kept his wallet there. I slip it out, take his cash, then throw the wallet onto his body.

I walk back home, mostly through the woods so as to be seen as little as possible. I pack one small bag with a few clothes and hygienics. Four bags carried by one guy on a scooter is pushing it, but I want to leave town right now. Then I realize while packing how suspicious all of this looks. Three members of a rich family in a small town are gruesomely murdered, and the house is robbed.

And me, I suddenly skip town, abandoning my drug business, my house, and my land. Where did I get the money to up and leave all of the sudden, and why would I do that on the night of the murders? I should stay, hide the stolen stuff, and wait out the investigation for a couple weeks to a month. Before leaving, I should tell a few people,

"This town is just getting worse by the year. We've had scuffles in the trailerpark and occasional killings among druggies, but for something like this to happen to the Greyhorns... Even I worry. And Reyfon and I, you know, we went back a few years."

Yeah, something like that should be good. It doesn't come across as too on the nose, and it foreshadows my leaving. Others will leave too after this, I'm sure, because the kind of violence that occurred tonight isn't often heard of here. It'll shake folks, myself included, heh.

So if some gumshoe finds their way around to asking about me, like, "That dealer Beriphitar was a friend of the youngest son's wasn't he? He left soon after, didn't he?" the downtown scrubs will answer, "Looks like even he got worried. He was racking up a little that might'a been worth stealin' himself ya know. Not so tough, just a boy trying to carve out a living in a town that turned out to be rougher than he was ready for."

With that, I put my clothes back. I put the bags of stolen money and valuables into plastic trash bags, then take then out to my garden- on foot mind you, because the noise of the scooter at this hour would an overly obvious deviation from my usual routine.

There would be nothing strange about overturned soil in a garden, especially not with fresh crops on top. When I'm done, the bags are safely hidden under about a foot of dirt. Just so you know, the lawmen won't want to tear this place up anyway because of the drugs. What I'm doing is perfectly legal here.

By the time I get back home, it's the middle of the night. That girl seems even hotter now that I'm remembering her in my tiny shower. My tired brain spins a fantasy of her, Reyfon, and Theorion. Reyfon is sandwiched in the middle, Theorion plowing his dirty asshole from behind while he penetrates the girl's dripping pussy. The three move harder and faster, until the illusion comes to its climax, and my jizz sprays the shower wall.

"Sandwiched" though, that word reminds me that I have a perfect good cheese sandwich just left on the counter. I eat it on the way to bed, and then sleep sweetly. With the day that I had, I'm not sure if I'd be able to tell dream from memory.

I wake up to birds chirping, a sour mouth, and the pleasant brightness that comes from having one's home so close to nature. Then I smile little, when I think of the chaos that must be unfolding uptown. Lawmen like buzzards circling my crime scene, Veralia, distraught, shocked, and hungover, and Reyfon's father- I wonder if the news has made it to his hospital bed? At this point, they might as well spare the old man and let him die in peace if possible.

I climb out of bed, have one of the craft beers that Reyfon gave me for breakfast, and then brush my teeth. Over the next two weeks, I follow my plans. I attend the Greyhorn funerals, tell a few people that I'm thinking about leaving town, and sell my land and house.

The lawmen took me aside once to ask me questions. "Did you see anyone strange around town?" et cetera. My answer was simply, "No Sir."

On the day that I was packing my bags again to get on Trusty Rusty and leave town, a beautiful gift delivered herself right to my door. It was Veralia, Reyfon's suffering brunette sister who'd been becoming increasingly irresistable to me the more I saw of her.

Her entire immediate family was either dead, murdered, or dying. It had become unthinkable for her to even stay in her own house; the emptiness and the memories of what had happened, of what she'd seen there, were too much. I heard she currently lived with an aunt in the next town over, so imagine my surprise to see her at my hovel.

Her eyes were sunken, though puffy from what could have been her hundreth bout of tears, and filled with pain. She looked lost, like so many others who'd come to me, and I so then I knew why she was here. She had to find something good in her overwhelming plight.

"I know", she began quietly and not meeting my eyes, "That my brother used to buy leaves and stuff from you." She dug into her pockets and pulled out some crumpled bills. Veralia stretched the money out to me. "Yes", I said softly and with an air of consideration. "I was closing down shop, but please, come in and you can select what you want from what I still have."

There's hardly any stock remaining, since I lowered prices and had been doing a lot of peddling to get it off my hands,but I'm glad I left some. Turns out, Veralia doesn't know a cow from a cat when it comes to drugs, so when I show her my stuff she just says, "I don't know. Just give me something to... stop it." Her face twitches like she's going to collapse into tears, but she holds back.

Her ignorance doesn't matter anyway, because I was partially lying about the effects and the types of drugs anyway. I dope her up as she asks. The drugs take her mind to another world, while I take her body. She moans and pushes me away weakly, but she barely knows what's going on, and she sure won't remember any of this. I strip off her clothes and pound her. I finger her, stick my dick in her slit and her mouth, and rub it against her thighs, pussy and then her asshole before fucking that too. I roughly grope her breasts, then use her vag to finish, shoving my dick in harder and harder, faster and faster, until she wimpers a little even in her drugged state.

Once I get off, she just lays on my living room carpet by the coffee table, almost completely out of it. I think I'll relax for a while before redressing her, but upon having another look at her perky pair of tits and tight pussy soaked with my semen, I decide I'll have a second helping.

I turn her over and splay her legs before me again, completely exposing her genitals to my salacious gaze. I rub her privates, and roughly violate her asshole with two and then three of my fingers. I push my penis inside her body again. She moans sleepily and her hands reach up to swat around above her as I continue raping her- sometimes anally, sometimes vaginally. Her vision is blurry, I know, so she can hardly see me. Veralia's confused, and I feel her thighs pressing up against my hands as she makes makes feeble attempts to close her legs. I come all over her genitalia and asshole.

I wipe her up and put her clothes back on. I finish packing as I was before she came, hop on my scooter, and leave town. Buzzing down the roads to the north, cool wind blowing at my hair and jacket, cargo over my shoulders- I must say I've never felt this free in my life. I've done just as I've pleased, and now I have thousands of buckaroos in cash, gold, and valuables, and a new life of ahead. Life has finally gone my way.

I'm living my own dream as my own man.

#violent #story #crime spree

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thevirgomen · 5 years

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Should I give up on my Virgo Man?

New Post has been published on https://virgomen.net/should-i-give-up-on-my-virgo-man/

Should I give up on my Virgo Man?

Many women ask the question, ‘should I give up on my Virgo man?’ because the male born under the sign of Virgo can be an infuriating partner to be with.

Having said that, his character of being honest and shy makes a Virgo guy the dream lover of most women looking for romance and a permanent relationship.

The part of a Virgo man’s hidden character that infuriates a woman the most is down to the time he takes to make up his mind before allowing her to see the true person.

A Virgo man can blow hot and cold seemingly at any time which makes a woman question whether he has the potential of being a serious long-term prospect.

Even after being together for a long period a Virgo man can come across as being disinterested leaving his partner thinking she must have done something wrong.

A recent study by a renowned relationship expert uncovered some startling facts as to why a Virgo man should act this way.

After extensive trials with 100’s of women, a formula has been devised that show the simple steps a woman needs to take to get a Virgo guy to commit to her. Following this program will give any woman the knowledge she needs to totally win the heart of her Virgo guy.

The expert who devised this system has produced a short video in which he takes you through his findings and explains why a guy acts the way he does. He explains his method HERE. I’d be interested to hear your thoughts on it in the comment section below.

Why you should not give up on your Virgo man.

Virgo men are generally intelligent hard working and conscientious. They tend to have a direct and planned outlook on life and like to keep up to date with current affairs and topics that may affect their future.

This can lead him into thinking that he is always right, so a relationship with a Virgo man will require a woman ‘To be on the Ball’ and ready to debate her point of view.

The good thing is a Virgo man has great respect for a woman if she remains unemotional in getting her point across.

Although a relationship with a Virgo man may have its up’s and down’s the upside prevails in getting someone who is honest and fiercely loyal. Once understanding and acceptance are reached on a Virgo guy’s characteristics harmony and romance will blossom.

Related article: How to get a Virgo man to forgive you

The caring side of a Virgo

Every woman seeking a relationship with a guy wants him to be caring and devoted. I’m sure you like me has had our share of uncaring men in our lives. Men are usually very different from women who get devoted quickly in any relationship she starts.

One of the very first things a woman may notice in a relationship with a Virgo man is that he cares. He comes across as wanting things to work out and starts by delving into finding the things that make you happy.

You may have noticed during the first few dates his caring nature coming to the surface. You may well be delighted but a Virgo man can sometimes tend to care too much in the early stages.

This then leads a woman to be confused when later he pulls back because he is one that needs his own space occasionally.

See also: What a Virgo man wants to hear – But needs you to discover it

When to ignore a Virgo man

From a woman’s perspective, I’m sure you like me had the opinion that most single men seem to be carefree with life.

Most men have a kind of confidence about them of ‘Take it on the Chin’ and ‘Whatever happens’ is meant to happen’ Type of attitude.

This is generally not the case with a Virgo man who has a much more structured outlook on how his life will pan out. He is known to be fussy about everything being in its place.

You may initially be bowled over and find it a refreshing change but sometimes he can take things too far.

A Virgo man tends to have an opinion on everything and can be fussy about things that fall out of his line of reasoning. Learning when to ignore him and just step back and let him work it out himself rather than get irritated is key to harmony.

Related article: Will Virgo man miss you more if you ignore him?

Can Virgo men be controlling?

A Virgo man is a definite person to go to for advice on most subjects. They tend to be someone who is prepared to give an opinion and often wise words on most subjects. This is something that will adhere them to women who tend to love them for it.

However, this advice thing can be a two-edged proposition. On the one hand, a Virgo man is willing to offer advice but does have a tendency to sometimes go overboard with its delivery. A Virgo man is keen to help which can lead to pushing their opinion too hard.

The difference between inspiring and motivating a person who needs advice or being over controlling is a fine line which sometimes a Virgo man misses.

For them, because of the high standards they set themselves, they tend to get close to controlling the situation rather than allowing a person to accept their advice.

See also: What kind of woman attracts a Virgo guy?

Will a Virgo man test you?

A Virgo man has a straightforward way of how things should be in his life and because of this he does not enjoy mind games.

In fact, he views this kind of behavior as underhand and deceitful. He will not get involved in it and he will expect his partner to do the same.

Any woman wanting a relationship with a Virgo guy should stay well clear of trying to get his attention by instigating a situation to try to make him jealous for instance. In his mind, there is no room for underhand deception and beating around the bush.

A male born under the sign of Virgo respects a person more for saying it how it is rather than trying to flower the words to avoid an argument. If you are not happy with something it is far better to broach the subject and get it in the open rather than ignore it and let it fester.

Related article: Does a Virgo man play mind games when dating?

Will a Virgo man want me back?

This is where so many factors need to be taken into account and considered. A Virgo man’s response will depend a lot on how much he feels let down by the break in trust that you once shared. If he feels you have not been honest with him and try to cover it up, there is probably no way back.

A Virgo guy is usually very perceptive and his intuition tells him when to walk away. To pick up the threads of a broken relationship your Virgo man will need a compelling reason.

Depending on the reason the relationship has turned sour will depend on how much energy you will need to put in to turn things around.

If you feel you have made a mistake it is best to come clean and admit you were wrong. A Virgo man hates needy and groveling but does respect humility. When trauma happens in a Virgo man’s life he usually withdraws inside his shell and thinks deeply before moving on.

This is where you need to give him some space to evaluate the good times you had between you before things started to go wrong. If you are serious about wanting him back take this time to examine yourself.

Ask yourself if you had been taking him for granted and may be starting to let yourself down without realizing it. You need to explore different avenues of letting him know you still care for him but without coming across as crowding him.

A unique method that has helped 100’s of women

Relationship expert Amy North has a unique method that has helped 100’s of women stay in the thoughts of their man while still giving them space. Words said in a certain way have been proven to have a deep-rooted effect on the subconscious brain.

Amy has developed a system whereby these carefully worded sentences can be sent directly to your Virgo man via text. These messages with their hypnotic connotations are proven to excite his feelings for you while still giving him space. Amy explains her method in a short video HERE.

For more on a Virgo man

I hope this article has been of help with understanding a Virgo guy. My website http://virgomen.net specializes in situations regarding a relationship with a Virgo man, so why not bookmark for future reference?

My joy is in giving

Charlene

#breakup #characteristics #feelings

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witchfall · 6 years

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the silver lining still remains: ch. 2

SUMMARY: “Connor read somewhere that 3 a.m. is “the magic hour” -- a concept still out of his purview. But the wide open dark gives him a feeling without a name; if it is all an illusion, as he’s wondered, it’s started pulling new tricks.

It feels like there’s a hole in one of his key biocomponents, slowly leaking. Like thirium could pool in the bottom of his abdomen, and no one would know until it’s too late.”

A Connor x F!OC fanfic. Read on AO3

---

[...RECHARGING…]

[...100%]

[ALL SYSTEMS NORMAL. VISUAL FEED NORMAL. TIME: 3:09 A.M]

‘Yea, the diplomats are doing their thing.’ Hank, eating a burger. ‘But they aren’t here with us. Doing the work on the ground, you know? It’s never gonna be...quite the same.’

‘Here with us.’

‘Life’s that way.’

‘You’d miss me.’

[RUNNING DIAGNOSTIC…..ALL SYSTEMS NORMAL.]

Androids do not dream. Connor understands this. But the thoughts circle, endlessly. He processes and scans the color, texture, and sound of his memories until they are a grainy nonsense of variables that shouldn’t be there. Voices stop sounding right. Freckles are in the wrong place. Lips are the wrong size. The recollection is perfect; his sensor scans are absolutely complete.

The wrongness persists.

[ALL SYSTEMS NORMAL.]

He opens his eyes. Moonlight and the white glare of streetlamps shine through the dusty windows of Hank’s spare room (“You live here, you live like a civilized human man. Android man. Fuck it, you know what I mean.”). Sumo snores softly in the hallway and his owner snores louder still in the bedroom across the way. All things normal.

Don’t tell me you were working this whole time.

I was at Dan’s.

A smile, and a strange look in Hank’s eye -- uncategorizable. No statements of clarification. Continues to watch television.

Connor could get up and work. Read one of the books Hank suggested. But the thoughts spin on, so many of them, and he’s not sure he’s willing to leave them be.

She’s interfacing again. Stress level: 55%. Monitor your life signs.

Incorrect prioritization. Monitor her life signs.

Mouth open, face uncharacteristically inexpressive. Eyes (dark brown -- dark dark brown, where do they go?) out of focus. Extremely minor shivering.

Why?

His eyes fly open and he focuses again on the chilling brightness of the moon, if only to stop this thought cycle before it can begin. The street is silent. He read somewhere that 3 a.m. is “the magic hour” -- a concept still out of his purview. But the wide open dark of the sky gives him a feeling without a name; if it is all an illusion, as he’s wondered, it’s started pulling new tricks.

It feels like there’s a hole in one of his key biocomponents, slowly leaking. Like thirium could pool in the bottom of his abdomen, and no one would know until it’s too late.

[TIME: 3:15 A.M.]

Emma steps out of the client’s house, wiping sweat and grit off her forehead with the back of her glove. Clouds obscure the weakly setting sun, casting the neighborhood in a downcast gray. Materials she’d need for tomorrow’s drywall installation cycled through her head, hammering out all curious thought. A litany of the most boring items imaginable.

Nothing like exhaustion to beat the worry out of you.

Sleep or stagework? She hesitated outside her Taurus, testing the tires with her boot. If she had to ask, maybe she should just go home...

Her phone softly chimes.

Who could possibly want to call me now ?

She digs it out of her thick coat with a furrowed brow, suppressing a sigh. The number was “unknown,” but that was hardly unusual in her line of work. Androids were buying their own phones, but the savvy ones were understandably wary of tracking.

She clicks it over. “Emma Ibori.”

“Emma. Are you free?”

She blinks at the voice on the line. “Speaker Markus?” Well, that explains the blocked number. “...how’d you get my number?”

“It’s in the Corps files,” he says. “I hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time.” His voice is warm but straightforward, plodding along pleasantries as if by rote.

She raises a brow in interest, but her gut sinks. The leader of the preliminary Android government probably didn’t just call people to chat. “Sure, no. What can I do for you?”

Hank taps his empty coffee cup on his desk and stares at Connor. He checks his watch...he’s been staring for a good three minutes now. Connor doesn’t even seem to notice.

Hank leans back in his chair, making it creak, and sighs heavily.

“I think we’re off the clock,” he finally says.

Connor is staring at his computer like he’s Atlas, holding the world up. His brow is furrowed as he scans through files that Hank knows too well will reveal nothing new, not even to a top of the line prototype detective. Connor has a single hand on his forehead, fingers reaching up through his hair -- a curious gesture of humanity that makes him seem much younger than he pretends to be, even if he is still sitting up ramrod straight.

“You can go home if you want,” Connor says politely. His eyes don’t leave the screen.

Hank frowns. He’s too well-worn to know how to break through the miasma gathering around the young man. He just tries to be there.

Tough being a prototype.

A rough guitar riff plays -- Hank’s phone. He pulls it out of his pocket and stares at the number. An opportunity.

“Anderson.”

“Hey, it’s Emma. Does Connor have a direct line to Markus, you think?”

“Emma, I'm at work.”

Lo and behold, Connor finally looks his way. Hank stifles a smirk at Connor’s attempt to make it look nonchalant by casting his gaze lazily to the side a moment, but Hank doesn’t buy it for a second. They had to get Connor his own phone soon.

“I got a weird call from him. He said he had a job opportunity come up at the old East Yard Elementary for me but, uh...the number he used won’t work.” He can hear the wind crackle through her phone speaker.

“Markus called you?”

“Maybe.” He can hear her shuffling with a door. “One reason I wanted to confirm with him. I’d just demo this place.”

Hank leans forward. Connor does too. Hank gives him a look -- eavesdropping is rude, how many times do I gotta tell you that? -- but his detective instinct yammers like a mad dog. “Go back to your car.”

A long pause. “...all right then.” He can hear her breathing as she begins to walk. “I didn’t go in far.”

“You really shouldn’t be on that side of town,” he says quietly. “Are you alone?”

She doesn’t answer. His gut clenches. The girl was tough, a wicked good contractor who’d fixed up a number of things in his old house, and a presence that flitted in and out like a fly he couldn’t chase away. But she, like a lot of the youth around these parts, was both too stubborn and too trusting. Connor was nearly out of his seat trying to listen in now, dark eyes intent upon Hank, all pretense gone.

“I have a gun.”

“Emma--”

“Look, can you just ask Con if--”

A loud, unmistakable bang.

“Emma?” He pulled his phone back and looked at the call connection.

The line was instantly dead.

“Oh, fuck. Connor--”

Connor was already running full speed toward the exit. Hank grabs his radio and follows, fast as he dares.

“Dispatch, we have a situation. Door! Connor, use the door!”

Emma’s ears ring. Fear blooms in her stomach like an orchid. In a thoughtless moment, she reaches up to touch her ear to check for bleeding, but her hand is embedded with glass and already slick so it’s useless. She can feel the blood trickling down her jaw. It’ll probably stain her coat, she realizes with a bizarre amusement.

All she can really think about is running, away from her car where they'd ambushed her, zigging and zagging between vehicles, between houses, through any path that could break up their beeline on her. She expects them to shoot again at any moment -- a thought that keens bright as lightning. But they don’t, despite the fact that they had the wherewithal to shoot her phone from her hand.

What was stopping them?

She chances a look back. Two figures in nondescript dark clothes chase her with stocky, athletic movements and a uniformity that felt too exact to be human.

Fear bottoms her out. All her breaths feel like flame.

Her bag drags down on her shoulder, even as she tries to keep it from smacking her side too much with her left hand. But it’s no use. It’s slowing her down and they clearly aren’t tiring. While she hears sirens wailing in the distance, she decides to buy time by -- God and Universe please fucking forgive me, I’m never gonna be able to buy tools again at this rate -- throwing the bag as far as she can at her pursuers.

But not without grabbing her gun first.

“It was a mistake to let you drive!” Hank wheezes, but Connor knows the man can’t mean it. At the speed they are going, only an android could have prevented their untimely death via crash.

[FIND EMMA FIND EMMA FIND EMMA FIND EMMA]

Text flashes red in his eyes, constant, and he blinks hard to try and erase it. There is no erasing it.

[CIRCULATION ELEVATED. RECOMMEND DEEP BREATHS FOR SYSTEM COOLING.]

The dispatch chatter was up. Connor only slowed when he saw the flashing lights of other patrol cars in the distance, parked on some abandoned street where single-family housing met the blockier apartment units of inner Detroit. Police were exiting their cars, guns up.

He nearly slams the car into park. Hank grumbles something obscene but they both near tumble out of the car. They bolt toward what the other police are examining.

A bag…

Instantly, he enters analysis mode, the mind palace thrumming to life. Contents spilled out of the bag as if it was thrown for distraction. A measuring tape and a Laserlite level flung a few feet out of the bag from the force of the toss. One hammer, a smattering of nails and screwdrivers [multiple head types] are scattered on the pavement in an arc akin to spraying water.

Specks of fresh blood.

[MISSION: FIND EMMA.]

She loves this bag.

[PROCESSING: PROJECTING RUN BASED ON BAG LOCATION, THROWN ITEM DISTANCE, EAST YARD SCHOOL.]

“Connor, we’re going to find her, you just gotta--”

[RE-CONSTRUCTING]

“--take a second to breathe--”

[POSSIBLE DIRECTION: NORTHWEST?]

“--listening?”

Connor can hear Hank saying something in the background, but his processors burn too hot. He has a mission to do. He doesn’t have time for anything but analysis--

Two gunshots, 467 feet northwest.

His mission parameters squeeze his chest. Something lances his core biocomponent.

[DIAGNOSTIC UNDERWAY.]

He runs, fast as his feet will go, but the neighborhood is starting to blur around him. He leaves the other officers in the dust, not weighed down by patrol gear or a biological need for aerobic exercise. He vaults over parked cars and old trash bins and rounds the corner of an alleyway--

[RECONSTRUCTING PRECONSTRUCTING RECON--]

Two dead bodies litter the ground.

[THIRIUM -&*^&*CORRUPTION.]

What?

And Emma stands at the alley’s end, gun outstretched.

He stumbles to a stop at the sight. His entire vision shakes a moment.

Blood stains the side of her face, and one of her hands claws unnaturally around the gun, clearly injured. She stands with feet shoulder-width apart, arms straight. A near perfect shooting stance. One pursuer was downed with a shot to the head, the other with a shot to the chest. Executioner style.

Something hot burns in Connor’s ribcage. She had been cornered. A chainlink fence blocks the alleyway behind her.

She suddenly takes in a sharp breath.

“Emma!” The word feels torn from him as he skitters across the alley. Now he can see she’s close to tears, teeth barred, breath coming in shaky waves. “You’re all right,” he says, hands up. The softness of his voice comes at a shock considering the magma filling his midsection. “You’re safe now.”

[MISSION SUCCESS]

She takes in another sharp, shaky breath and the tears finally roll down her face. Her whole body near vibrates with stress. He moves until he is close enough that he can whisper.

“Give me the gun,” he says softly.

“No.”

His chest compresses further. “Please. You are not in a state to hold a weapon.”

Even if her shots were perfect.

She hesitates, but then thrusts the gun into his palm with her good hand -- much to his surprise. He sticks it in his extra holster on his waistband and then leans down slightly to level with her gaze. Without thinking, he tentatively rests his hands on her shoulders. His fingers wrap around her shoulders and his palms settle against her collarbones. Only then does it feel like she’s real.

Alive alive alive alive.

He scans her face, unwilling to miss a single detail. A gunshot wound to her right ear. Thick, coiled hair caking against the sticky blood. Scratches along her jawline from glass shards. Old smears of makeup under her eyes, now just black specks thanks to time and tears. But the constellation is still there -- a single smear of blood disrupting the map of freckles on her face…

“Connor!” Hank and the other police finally arrive, feet loud against the pavement. “Shit...”

Connor doesn’t turn to look back at them. He’s watching Emma’s dark brown eyes, waiting. Waiting. She stares at the middle distance between them, as if rebooting -- until suddenly she blinks and she isn’t. She’s looking right back at him. Searching his face.

“I’m--” A hiccup disrupts her sentence and she takes in another rough, shaky breath.

Another lance through his core biocomponent. He suddenly can’t bring himself to say anything at all. Something in him rumbles and roars -- a creature that he’d not witnessed since he broke the command to Stop Markus.

“Emma, hey, it’s gonna be alright.” That was Hank, breathing hard.

“Wh...why the fuck were they chasing me?” Emma looks between Connor and Hank, breaking eye contact finally. “They were by Tulio.” Her car.

“We’ll figure it out,” Hank says, stepping up next to them. He taps Connor’s shoulder once, a signal to move. Connor’s systems feel sluggish; he finds he doesn’t want to let go. But after a moment, he takes a step back, releasing her shoulders.

Hank places his scarf around her neck. “You said you could shoot but you never said you were a goddamn Olympian.”

She squints, looking away. “I dunno.” She gestures outward. “Got lucky, I guess.”

Luck?

Two programs go to war.

Analyze the variables: Markus’s involvement. Did someone use his voice? The supposed job. How did they obtain her number? Why did they chase but opt not to shoot her again? How did they find her? What did they want? Who are these androids and what was their purpose? Why was the reading of the blue blood returning corrupted data? Why is she shy about her gunshots? Find more information. Solve this now.

If you look away from her something else might happen you never know there are no proper odds for this anymore not in this city where nothing has a precondition another shooter could appear anything could come out of thin air so keep your eyes on her at all times don’t you dare let her leave your sight how did she shoot them like that was it luck was it just luck that left her alive was it just luck that she’s here at all--

“Connor?”

Emma is staring at him, moisture on her face glinting blue and red as the last of the backup arrives.

“He’s fine,” Hank says with his usual gruffness, placing a hand on her shoulder as if to turn her away. “Owes me some new tires. Drives like a maniac.” His tone is heightened. He’s trying to obfuscate something, but Emma doesn’t break her stare. Hank bites his lip, concerned.

Connor looks down. The pavement flashes red. He tucks one hand behind his back, as if that can stop the feeling building inside, and another to the coin in his pocket.

What if what if what if what if?

[DIAGNOSTIC COMPLETE. ALL SYSTEMS FUNCTIONING.]

But that can’t be right. Because his vision is blurring -- breaking into prisms of light as all the magma in his chest finally reaches his optical components.

He turns away so Emma won’t see.

#dbh connor #connor rk800 #detroit become human #dbh connor x oc #dbh connor x reader #dbh #kathryn writes #long post #hope the read more works D:

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brutality-legacy · 6 years

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100+ Lyric Prompts

Here’s a list of lyrics that can be used as prompts or inspiration for stories.

Feel free to add on to this list, send some of these in if you want to see them written or reblog it for yourself. Whatever inspires you!

I will be updating this periodically and will reblog the updated version!

Dark

Caught up in this madness too blind to see / woke animal feelings in me / took over my sense and I lost control / I'll taste your blood tonight

A murderer walks your street tonight

And now when I speak, I speak to kill

Stalked in the forest too close to hide / I'll be upon you by the moonlight side

If you want survival kneel on my arrival

I am a scavenger / a vulture if you will / and if the price is right / I’m not averse to kill

Wish that you could but you ain't gonna own me / Do anything you can to control me

I'm the queen of pain / I can make it thunder and rain / I can turn the clouds black in the sky / I can put all those tears in your eyes

So death is coming to purge this town / I know your name / And I'm gonna hunt you down

I don't bring forgiveness / I don't bring peace / I've come to slay you / Come to kill the beast

So gather ye demons / It seems it's your day / I’ve sinned but I’ve paid more than 10,000 graves

The devil's gonna come when the sun go down.

Till my final breath / There'll be dust and death

Before I die / I'll take every soul I can into the night

Angst

He who makes a beast out of himself gets rid of the pain of being a man

Step by step, heart to heart, left right left / We all fall down like toy soldiers / Bit by bit, torn apart, we never win / But the battle wages on for toy soldiers

Victims, aren’t we all?

This night will hurt you like never before

Awake at night you focus on everyone who’s hurt you / Then write a list of targets / Your violent lack of virtue

I admit I was wrong to let you in

When I wake up to the sound of demons / they're always telling me that I'm no good

What have I got to lose / when I’ve already lost it all?

Have you ever been abused by someone so brutal that it chills your soul / have you ever been afraid of your own ghost?

I'm just a creature of a broken past

I'm doing what I can to fight this anger / I'm just a product of a living hell

To save your life I would race to my grave

There’s no pain I wouldn’t go through / Even if I have to die for you

Oh, dear mother, I love you / I'm sorry, I wasn't good enough / Dear father, forgive me / 'Cause in your eyes, I just never added up

Oh, dear brother, just don't hate me / for never standing by you or being by your side / Dear sister, please don't blame me / I only did what I thought was truly right

In my heart I know I failed you

It's a long and lonely road / When you know you walk alone

If I could hold back the rain / Would you numb the pain / Cause I remember everything

We build cathedrals to our pain / Monuments to attain / Freedom from all of the scars and the sin / lest we drown in the darkness within

You don't have the guts to love me like you wish you could

I must leave you cause I know your kind / You'd wake me up just to say goodbye

And I know that's not a tear in your eye / Cause boys don't cry and neither do I

At least I gave it a try but you had bourbon in your eyes

I've betrayed you and it should be a sin

One day you will understand / Why I pushed you away as I ran

I ain’t never been a keeper / Despicable / Love her then I leave her / And if I were you I wouldn’t love me neither

Take my life / Just not today

Will you swear on your life / That no one will cry / At my funeral

I'm a dead man walking / Hell's at my door / I'm a shadow of the man I was before

And I admit I am emotionally scared to let anyone inside

Happy/Comfort

We are not alone / It's darkest before the hope / You and I, we're not alone

Hope is a fire to keep us warm

I smile up to the sky / I know I'll be all right

There is no storm we can not weather

When you’re lost and need to be found / I will look forever

Never knew a time / When you weren't by my side / The one thing I could always count on

Just open your eyes / and see that life is beautiful

Just keep me close / There is no storm we can not weather

While my roots hid deeper inside / And my leaves stay bundled up tight / I felt my faith get bigger than life / Not only did I survive / I learned to blossom

Romantic

When it all comes down / when it starts to fall like an avalanche / I will be your wall / I will hold you up / Go against them all

I'll set you free when you're locked in a cell / I’ll find you heaven when you're lost in hell

I had a dream the other night / about how we only get one life / woke me up right after two / I stayed away and stared at you so I wouldn’t lose my mind

And if we only live once I wanna live with you

With broken words I tried to say / ‘Honey don’t you be afraid, if we’ve got nothing we’ve got us.’

I’m so into you / I can barely breath

Let’s get inside your car / just you, me, and the stars

I tried to be chill but you're so hot I melted

Our time is short / This is our fate / I'm yours

You asked me how long I'd stay by your side / So I answered with only just one reply / Till the casket drops

And it turns out s/he's got everything I want / but all rolled into one

You make me smile / please, stay for a while now

Gaze into my eyes, when the fire starts / And fan the flame so hot, it melt our hearts

Once I'm in I own your heart

Welcome to my cage, little lover / Attempt to rearrange with you, baby / Still don’t know your name, Miss Honey / Let’s go up in flames, pretty lady

You’re rich and I'm wishin', um / You could be my mister, yum

You taste like the fourth of July / Malt liquor on your breath, my, my / I love you but I don’t know why

He had a cigarette with his number on it / He gave it over to me, “Do you want it?” / I knew it was wrong but I palmed it / I saved it, I waited, I called it

I can't believe it / When did I start to fall for you?

I think... oh, well, what am I to do? / I didn't know that I would fall in love with you

I just bite my tongue / And when I want to say I love you I'll say ‘Boop’

She got blood cold as ice / And a heart made of stone / But she keeps me alive / She's the beast in my bones / She gets everything she wants / When she gets me alone

I don't judge you love / I never have before / We make mistakes / We leave them by the door

I found love / Where it wasn’t supposed to be

Sexual

Hold my arms above my head and push my face into the bed / Cause I'm a screamer baby / Make me a mute

Wanna wrestle with me baby? / Here's a sneak little peak / You can dominate the game cause I'm tough

Every caress is a medicine / Bringing me to my knees

The more we drank the less that we had on

Take the pain / Take the pleasure / I’m the master of both

Imma hold ya down until you're amazed / Give it to ya 'til you're screaming my name

I wanna fuck you like an animal / I wanna feel you from the inside

I ache for the touch of your lips, dear / But much more for the touch of your whips, dear / You can raise welts like nobody else / As we dance to the masochism tango

I'ma give it to you stronger / Hands up / We can go a little longer

I'm dominant by definition / I'm turned on by your submission

Latex, chains and whips make me hard and excite me / Come on, throw your hands up and pretend you wanna fight me

Fight

Take a last look around while you're alive / I'm an Indestructible Master of War

I know that blood will be spilled / and if you won’t then I will / My grave will never be filled / it’s either kill or be killed

Sleep for today, but tomorrow we fight

I am one man but I'll stand like an army of soldiers

To bring you peace I'll go into war / Ain't afraid of the rain I trained in a storm

The war was on its way / And we were waiting

We'll crush our enemies / Bring them to their knees

Wake the white wolf at the dawn of war / the end of the age is coming now

Hate

My heart it glows as you decompose

And I wonder can you hear me laughing / Cause I'm dancing on your grave

But I want you to know / I always hated you / Hated you from hello

Who the fuck are you to tell me what to do? / I don't give a damn if you say you disapprove

Misc

I straddle the line in discord and rhyme

Sitting here at my grave side I've never been so alive

I'm your Guardian angel and a part of you's tangled

When everyone wears a mask who's the real villain?

Nothing's going to stop me but divine intervention

It’s like a dead masquerade / so come and dance with me

I bet you thought that I was soft and sweet / You thought an angel swept you off your feet

I wait on you inside the bottom of the deep blue sea

I'm neon phosphorescent / Open like a Christmas present

And then you say I'm as cold as November

Every chatelaine / Wants to share her reign / So come and join me in my castle

Your blood’s gone bad / I knew it would

I was born under a bad sign / With a blue moon in my eyes

The boy who fell into the sky / Had no one there to watch him cry / He looked at you with his empty eyes / And said, “I’m doing you a favor”

Let me know / Where I can go to save my soul

Don’t threaten me with a good time

Don't you ever tame your demons / But always keep 'em on a leash

But my peace has always depended / On all the ashes in my wake

Days of rust / Nights of rain / Kingdom comes with a ball and chain

It's strange what desire makes foolish people do

I could be the hero / I could be the villain / It doesn’t really matter / I have the power

I was sent to warn you / The devil's in the next room

Keen to the scent / The hunt is my muse

You’ll fall like a guillotine / And kneel before the queen

Am I the only one I know / Waging my wars behind my face and above my throat

'Cause sometimes to stay alive you gotta kill your mind

Nothing ever comes without a consequence or cost

Took an oath by the blood of my hand / Won't break it

Do you feel the hunger / Does it howl inside / Does it terrify you / Or do you feel alive

To capture a predator / You can’t remain the prey / You have to become an equal in every way

#Prompts #Lyric Prompts #writing prompt #writing games #inbox prompts #long post

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isagrimorie · 6 years

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Thing I noticed re-watching Nanoha Reflections:

Fate’s already taller than most of her peers!

Nanoha and Fate are damned strong to carry their friends! So magic + increase physical strength?

I love that Nanoha doesn’t forget her friends and are actually brought into the magical group, and Arisa and Suzuka’s parents were also invited in.

Team Mother got to relax and have coffee while Arisa’s dad took care of the kids.

Magical shields are effective against bullets. Take That people who are determined to show Grim Dark military easily winning against TSAB.

It was really awesome to watch Hayate fight and use magic and use it without using her barrier jacket.

Amitie is awesome.

Are is in mini mode, she’s really trying to conserve magical energy for Fate and that makes me want to hug her so much.

Um, how do they know who Hayate, Fate, and Nanoha are? Even down to Fate’s backstory? I doubt that was advertised -—wait, are they from a future????

I can’t get over how Hayate kept listing all of Amitie’s traffic violations! Something worthy of a future Special Branch Investigator and Future Commander.

Kyrie did a lot of terrible things and all for nothing. In the Nanohaverse, Ends Justify the Means never ever works out.

Nanoha (the character) must really hate ‘The End Justify the Means’ mentality because in her experience all that ever does is lead to more heartache with zero results.

Shooting poor Rein was just terrible!

Hayate calling the Tome of the Night Sky her treasure, shades of her fully embracing the Master of the Book role.

Maria says that Bardiche in particular is very hard to upgrade, possibly implying Bardiche’s design is unusual? After all Linith (who possibly had Precia’s knowledge in engineering) designed it. And as mentioned Precia was a genius, of a whole other level.

Arisa noticing Nanoha’s pensive look and thinking that with Nanoha, it’s not far off to think she might go somewhere she can’t follow. And knowing Nanoha’s future, it’s true, Nanoha moves to Midchilda. It’s very bittersweet.

It’s that look and her determination that had me questioning why Nanoha shifted to Combat Instructor, and on a Watsonian level I know it might have to do with Nanoha’s injury.

Fate has a long way to go becoming the Enforcer we saw in StrikerS, she still gets startled by appeals to her good nature, but her determination to help people like her, who was so determined to do anything to help the people they loved and unwilling to listen to anyone else might be the jumping point for Fate choosing to become an Enforcer.

Haha! Nanoha’s response to, ‘But why would Amita choose Fate as her interviewer?’ was a confident, ‘Maybe because she looks gentle?’ It’s like Nanoha is 100% startled when people don’t think that of Fate. I fully believe Nanoha goes around saying stuff like that to the point that Vita gets annoyed.

I am a bit confused about stealing the Tome of the Night Sky, I thought the Book was connected to Hayate’s linker core?

I honestly love that it’s Fate asking witness questions with Lindy on hand to supervise, it feels like a step for Fate becoming an Enforcer.

Hee. Fate unknowing using her charm to get Amita’s promise they’ll work together, and Amita getting more and more flustered at Fate’s enthusiasm and positivity.

Hah! Vita’s face learning that Amita chose Fate as an interview because of her ‘gentle face’ and Nanoha’s happy ‘validated!’ reaction is everything.

And then Fate insightfully zero-ing on an important detail that could help with their case/mission, Iris.

If you really think about it, Shamal’s powers are terrifying, she can reach in to get someone’s linker core, computer core, heart, if she so chooses. Good thing she’s on the side of good people.

Honestly Nanoha’s will power is something else, she doesn’t believe in half measures, she’ll lay everything on the table and the some more. Giving it her full 200% is always her life’s motto— which contributed to her injury in the future. And the reason why Nanoha’s learned to play things smartly, doesn’t mean she’ll stop giving everything her 200% when it comes down to it.

Nanoha’s fight with Stern showcases once again what an inventive fighter Nanoha is, most bombardment mages just stay where they are in a fight. Not Nanoha, she uses the Beam War as cover and momentum no move forward and make the fight a close quarters fight. When Nanoha tells Fate in StrikerS that she was sturdy, she wasn’t kidding. Kid’s tougher than a diamond. And a willpower that’s a thousand times tougher.

Fate’s first instinct this time around is to talk to her opponents, she internalized Nanoha’s method very well, but with her own twist, in that she’s initially not willing to give a fight her 100% until she’s certain. Nanoha’s technique is, talk to the opponent, get their motivations but if repeated reaching out is spurned. Make them listen through superior fire power.

Lindy saving Fate tho! Fate calling Lindy mom! Fate realizing all the people she lost is in her and she has more family because of it!

Hmmm… it seems like Bardiche is more connected to Fate. The moment Fate became more certain of what she wants, Bardiche became better (season/movie 1 and 2). The moment Fate became certain of her family, Bardiche activated (Reflections). Raging Heart (raging is so much better than raising heart! fight me!) seems to work with Fate as a true AI partner, the Book is a utensil to Hayate and Rein is a really cute true living constructed device. But just like Arf, Bardiche seems to be a part of Fate, he doesn’t need to vocalize his thoughts because he already knows Fate’s thoughts. They can work in sync without talking.

Body horror! BODY HORROR!!!

Is Iris the second villain in (animated) Nanohaverse who doesn’t have good motives beneath their terrible actions?

‘Goodbye, Stranger.’ Ouch. That is the harshest thing Iris could ever say to Kyrie, and this is the harshest wake-up call of all too. Again proving, in Nanohaverse, the End doesn’t justify the Means.

‘I’ve had enough of regretting because I gave up, causing someone to be sad. That is the purpose of my magic.’ Nanoha, you’re a fifth grader! You are 10! (or 11!).

I wonder why the Wolkenritter didn’t recognize Levi, Stern, and the King? I would’ve thought he was the previous owner of the Book?

BODY HORROR!!! BODY HORROR!!!!! AUGHHHH! EXPLODING EYE. WHYYYYYY??????

I love that when Nanoha and Fate aren’t partnered, Fate is usually partnered with Signum. They complete each other very well, and I would like to think Signum taught Fate more sword techniques. Fighting wise, Fate’s style is very diverse.

Although, I’m not keen at how often the Wolkenritter, especially Signum, are defeated in this movie.

AHHHHH. BODY HORROR. I SEEM TO HAVE ERASED THE AMOUNT OF BODY HORROR I SAW I THIS MOVIE. AND THEY’RE HURTING FATE AND SIGNUM! THEY ALREADY HURT CHRONO. STOP THIS!

I will always love how hungry Nanoha and Raging Heart to update their systems in order to level the playing field against an enemy.

Fighting wise, Fate has a diverse set of it. But Nanoha? Nanoha’s magitech capabilities are a hybrid of everything she can see a use for, there’s no limit to what Nanoha can and will incorporate to help her win a fight for a happy outcome.

‘A magician helping a crying child’ once again, this fits so well with what I think Fate’s Enforcer work in the future, that now it’s strange to me they’re not working for the same branch as partners.

Also, this is why Nanoha is the Ace of Aces.

#film: nanoha reflections #magical girl lyrical nanoha #nanoha takamachi #fate testarossa #hayate yagami #wolkenritter #lindy harlaown #fate t harlaown #signum #vita #shamal #zafira #arf

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ellacrossman96 · 4 years

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How To Stop Your Husband From Divorce Fascinating Useful Ideas

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When Love Dies How To Save A Hopeless Marriage

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#How To Stop Your Husband From Divorce Fascinating Useful Ideas #Prayer To St Jude To Save Marriage

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