#like instead of going to those family gatherings for whatever reason it wouldn't be ''going to see his husband's family''
Note
Rhaenyra got usurped because like a classic princeling she just sat and waited for what’s owed to her to be given to her with no complaints or arguments, without putting in any effort of building connections and showing herself as responsible and capable as a ruler. She was handed a bad hand, true, and Aegon II was much like her in his lack of much effort, tact and humility, and he DID have it easier just because he was born a man. But Rhaenyra did NOT help the matter with her idiotic decisions. At the end of the day, she was just as cruel and horrible as her brother.
I really, really hope this is about the original story and not HotD. I'm going to treat it that way and any ask that doesn't specify or give very good clues this way. I have multiple posts about why Rhaenyra goes to Dragonstone, or just her in Dragonstone.
*This POST focuses more on whether I think she should have continued to rule after what happens with Nettles*
This POST gets into women-being-leaders both how real-life contemporaries looked at female leadership, how modern history writers regarded those contemporaries and their own conclusion, and real-life women with autonomous rank/governing power
These posts go into GRRM's writing of Rhaenyra as well as other notes about her leadership: POST #1, POST #2, POST #3, POST #4, POST #5, POST #6, POST #7, POST #8--esp Section B, C, & D (all address Rhaenyra's rulership and has more quotes supporting what I will say below)
This other POST from way back has me talking about what Rhaenyra could have done BUT in the current post, I will point out to you how you, anon, decided to define Rhaenyra's culpability (section D).
But because I am not tired and for the sake of cohesion...
A.
Viserys was the one to order Rhaenyra to stay in Dragonstone for an undisclosed amount of time after the Vhagar claim/Aemond-eye incident. Quote "Heirs of the Dragon -- A Question of Succession":
I imagine that Rhaenyra continued to stay and used Viserys' order because Dragonstone had become her place.
B.
What do you think Rhaenyra was doing at Dragonstone, exactly? You understand that Dragonstone is the seat of the heir to the throne, the place they have domestic and lordship rights over, the place where they would go with whatever families they have to rule over its surrounding peoples? So no, Rhaenyra didn't do "nothing", she ruled Dragonstone and took care of its businesses as other lords and ladies do their own households and vassalages.
Rhaenyra didn't just go to Dragonstone to escape Alicent's undermining her and targeting her kids, though that is a large reason why. Only a person who refuses to give her or a character they decided to dislike forever wouldn't give her the grace of believing that she herself figured that going to Dragonstone was also good for her to actually learn to be a ruler, have others refer to her (instead of Viserys) for most major decisions in her domains, and have that Alicent/green block removed from her performing said governance. Not only did Alicent outrank her as Queen Consort, Alicent, again, has been plotting against her since she was a child of 10 and gathering/having followers in court even before the 111 tourney where Rhaenyra comes out in red and black (the renaming of the respective factions). Those courtiers also would have not just tittered at Rhaenyra, ignored or make subtle jokes and comments at her expense for Viserys to not understand or hear--since she was a child of 10--they also could serve to survey Rhaenyra's movements or such to report to Alicent for favors (not as real spies, but watching her nevertheless). Watch any good court intrigue drama, and you should know what I mean if you can't paint a picture or imagine what court society would be like.
Now, you still might protest and say to me, "Fire and Blood is an unreliable narrative, how do you know all of this is true?!"
This shows two things:
you didn't bother to click the first link to the post with the quotes I wrote way above. In there, I gave dates as well, to track what the text is telling us about the development of the relationship between Rhaenyra and Alicent, and what happened after Alicent birthed Aegon. You can still come to strong conclusions in some parts of the narrative, especially using context and how it chooses to relate the information
you're being hypocritical: the narrative is unreliable...so you, who have formed a strong conclusion about Rhaenyra's character versus Aegon, didn't come to that conclusion using the same text or reading the book? somehow the way I or others who disagree with you are wrong...despite all of us getting our ideas from the same sources? I however, am presenting quotes and being specific, bringing the sociopolitical context and history to show you and others why I think the way I think
C.
This POST goes into the Shepherd's role in the final riots
Maelor's death is not on Rhaenyra, as she never mistreated him or even did what Maegor did to Viserys (Aenys I and Alyssa Velaryon's son/Maegor's nephew). Maelor was safer in the Red Keep than he was out of it, but Larys Strong's attempt to get him out and remove Rhaenyra's advantage over the greens.
It is after the Tumbleton Sackings and the Two Betrayers PLUS Corlys enabling Addam to flee that we have the Shepherd show up:
We know that Larys was also likely responsible for most of the common-born malice against Rhaenyra before the Shepherd came into the scene, even with Mushroom being the one to bring this up.
he was the master of whispers for part of Viserys' reign and Aegon's stint before her capturing KL's (he knows how to use public perception and human psychology as well as was able to discover and use information)
he was the one who enabled Aegon to escape
Larys almost immediately comes out of whatever hole he was hiding in after she died
Quote #1:
Quote #2:
When one is in the middle of a war or the immediate aftermath of one, there's always going to be criticism of their rule from the fear of lack of food, shelter, ability to perform commerce (commoners), or the compensation of some political privileges and restoration of lands (nobles). People of every class even looked at the young Jaehaerys I askance after Maegor's cruelty and Jaehaerys' age--if Jaehaerys would even be able to address their needs or grow into a capable ruler.
D.
You: "Aegon II was much like her in his lack of much effort, tact and humility"
1)
Even if we stayed with your "admittance", if Rhaenyra = Aegon in bad leadership, why do you harangue Rhaenyra more than Aegon? Because you think that the enthusiasm and/or sympathy for her is unjustified?
I already addressed how Rhaenyra actually did more than Aegon ever did in her place at Dragonstone. Other than that, did you forget that Viserys had her sit at council meetings when she was his--and only his--cupbearer? Since she was 8 years old?
At eight, the princess was placed into service as a cupbearer…but for her own father, the king. At table, at tourney, and at court, King Viserys thereafter was seldom seen without his daughter by his side.
("A Question of Succession")
No, this is not comprehensive training, education, or preparation as Jaehaerys I would have had for his two eldest sons, but Viserys is at least putting in that effort. More than he had for Aegon...because he never wanted Aegon to rule. Ever. And her sitting in and being present while the councilmen speak of their plans and concerns lets her be familiar with the priorities of those people as well as the perspectives of the nobles and commoners she anticipated ruling. She had ears.
Also, you acknowledge that Aegon didn't do jack before getting crowned...but you totally ignore how he:
sexually assaulted many servant girls (do not try to minimize the "fondling", even if you do not believe he raped others. Fondling servant girls because you're bored still shows you do not care about others' emotions or boundaries, that you feel entitled to their bodies)
tried to imprison his council members when they disagreed with him, how he dismissed Otto and made Criston Cole his Hand
decided that going into battle on dragonback (instead of just Aemond-Vhagar) was a good idea and almost got killed for it
decided that threatening the granddaughter of a man who gave him sound advice of NOT antagonizing remnant opposers further was a good idea
almost mutilated his nephew to put off said opposers
How does any of this in any way compare to any of Rhaenyra's actions--or lack thereof--that usually come up when criticizing her? The ones I seriously criticize her for the most are Rosby and Stokeworth and how she interpreted Daemonand Nettles' relationship, and how she wanted to handle Nettles. In the second link I gave way above, I list out what I think she could have done to establish herself more against Alicent even from Dragonstone, but this has more to do with strategy than morality, which are NOT the same! Meanwhile, it seems you tried to make it that way with how you pushed forward that last sentence after all your problems with her "refusing" to socialize herself amongst the nobles, etc. Why do you think Rhaenyra is in any way "equal" to Aegon's actual evil character? Did she rape or fondle people? Did she punish Corlys for saying that she should have been the one for not going to confront the green army at Rook's Rest? Why does he have to be "better" than a person who is objectively inferior to most people?
No, it is specifically when she is BETRAYED by those she gave power to, after she loses children in violent, preventable conflicts that Rhaenyra begins to unravel and her paranoia grows. Aegon went crazy from the jump.
Aside from you ignoring how terrible and worse of a general human being Aegon is, he was also much less worthy to be a potential leader who went out of his way to be an actual menace to lowborn people, as well as his own Faith/highborn council members. He does not seek to build connections and rather did all he could do to destroy any well-wishing or favor for himself once he came more into the forefront of the story. He showed absolutely no desire or concern about what he could do with the power he took for other human beings' quality of life or personal satisfaction.
Where is the concern for how Aegon should and how he does/does use "tact", or concern for how he refuses to have "humility"? Do you realize that the lack of concern for him and his actions in themselves results in reaffirming his male privilege to just inherit his maleness alone? Because it makes any and all of Rhaenyra's actual or hypothetical actions meaningless in the face of how little he actually has to do to be considered "capable"?
2)
You: "without putting in any effort of building connections and showing herself as responsible and capable as a ruler."
I find it interesting that you seem to acknowledge that Rhaenyra should be doing more than Aegon, especially to ingratiate herself with other nobles or assure them that she is a good ruler AND allow that Aegon to do nothing but be male for those same nobles (who you have simultaneously lumped together into this Aegon-preferring mass). Why should Rhaenyra have to put in more effort to even be considered "responsible" or "capable" when Aegon is even less so AND historically the Westerosi lords and ladies all already have this idea that female leadership is inherently less favorable than male leadership, that women are simply less trustworthy? If we are talking about Rhaenyra before she moves to Dragonstone, before years pass with her as the official heir with everyone getting used to their being said future Queen, and hypothetically Aegon actually put in the smallest bit of effort, these lords and ladies would prefer him even if he just visited a few households. If Rhaenyra put in the exact same amount of effort, they would likely suggest or hint at Viserys to put Aegon forward BECAUSE HE IS MALE AND NOT BECAUSE HE ACTUALLY SHOWS TO BE A GOOD RULER.
It seems you fooled yourself into thinking that either you or some of these people are actually looking for "capability" or "responsibility" from Rhaenyra. Leadership as a concept is masculine to these people, similar to how real-life contemporaries of European territories saw female leadership.
This is a quote from an essay talking about how contemporaries saw women in autonomous power:
In medieval times a woman could not bear arms; therefore a woman could not take on a role which, even symbolically, required her to carry arms. In medieval times a woman who took on an overt military role was an aberration.
Lyon, A. (2006). "The place of women in European royal succession in the middle ages."
For some people in-text and those reading the book, she will never be enough. Should she forever ingratiate herself once she comes across this block, or continue on and use her dragons? Would you say the same for Aegon V and his laws that enhanced the lives of the smallfolk by whittling down on ancient aristocratic rights & privileges? What about Jaehaerys and his marrying Alysanne despite sibling marriage being forbidden and reviled in the Faith (and most of Westeros being of the Faith except the North and the Ironborn)?
What you are really looking for is live "proof" that she--and women in general--her womanhood can never conform to that concept of leadership that Aegon can easily adopt even just by doing nothing.
3)
You: "Rhaenyra got usurped because like a classic princeling she just sat and waited for what’s owed to her to be given to her with no complaints or arguments".
If Aegon is a "classic princeling", then do you have the same disgust for every other prince (male princeling) in the whole of Targ history who expects to be king or at least one heir's heir?
Already go into how Aegon doesn't need to do much as a prince. This focus on Rhaenyra not having some sort of aristocratic feeling of entitlement is crazy. Yes, she expected others to fall in line with Viserys' wishes...because he is King and she is the official heir.
If you try to argue that a monarch or any leader must take into consideration the perceptions, traditions, and mindsets of those they rule to make their subjects more amenable to their rule--thus you have more confidence in ruling and your position is more secure--you also have to acknowledge three things about the Westerosi feudalism and the 1000s old-traditions & ideologies toward gender roles and succession:
the lord/lady's chosen heir is considered the one with the strongest claim/expected to rule next
the eldest is first up in the succession and is the primary/first claimant (royal or noble)
as I said, these people live with the overarching idea that men make better rulers because they comparatively were more entrusted with power and authority over others
Even with the anxiety around illegitimate children, there are other possible claimants, this one element of feudal succession in Westeros remains true. Visery had the privilege of naming a child his heir, and she happened to be both his eldest and female. And there have been ladies/queens in pre-Targ history that ruled in their own right. Lady Jeyne Arryn is not modern exception to a modern moment in Westerosi history.
The lords and ladies of Westeros did not have any excuse to doubt Rhaenyra even with:
the Queen Dowager Rhaena passed over for Jaehaerys and her other brother Aegon (who was also her husband)
the Council of 101 setting that precedent of male primogeniture (very important link)
Jaehaerys I being one of the better Targ kings of Westeros (Alysanne is not only described as equal in "intelligence" to any man--again that male=better and men have intelligence mentality--would have been even better, as it is she and Septon Barth who put the ideas or presented some of the problems Jaehaerys reformed -> but because she was younger than him; the lords' immediate desire of a claimant to finally rally against Maegor for was specifically for a male heir; and she became Queen Consort instead of Queen Regnant when Jaehaerys subsumed her claim by marrying her, she could not rule in her own right)
Therefore, I must reiterate how their only gripe was that she was female and not because she was legitimately worse than Aegon as a candidate. Which she wasn't.
4)
You: "But Rhaenyra did NOT help the matter with her idiotic decisions. At the end of the day, she was just as cruel and horrible as her brother."
I already spoke about her decisions regarding Stokeworth and Rosaby, Nettles, the rioting's origins, and the greens taking the gold in the treasury that leads to Rhaenyra being unable to pay for most needs for the KLers. If not in this post, in the ones I linked at the very top of this post.
Quote -- "Rhaenyra Triumphant":
Another hint at Aegon's and the greens' lack of care for non-noble or noble subjects that you somehow designated only to Rhaenyra...
I always find it hilarious when the phrase "at the end of the day" precedes a sentence that has little to do with the preceding ideas the person presented. In the text of your ask, Rhaenyra's cruelty and "horribleness" had nothing to do with your past claims of her being "idiotic" or spoiled. It came out of left field, and it is as if you're trying to smush all of the reasons for your dislike towards her into one without losing space, or you're trying to throw that last bit in there for extra emphasis, not knowing how to really create emphasis. Like a misinformed child who just remembered their last complaint.
*EDIT* (8/21/23):
THIS is a great post by @mononijikayu about medieval queens, female rulers, the history of how women in leadership positions were made and seen as threats to the very structure of social "order", and contextualizing Rhaenyra thru Empress Matilda. I didn't even know about Matilda's husband being comparable to Rhaneyra's Daemon! PLZ READ!!!!
Excerpt:
just as much, along with these fictitious portrayals, more lies are depicted. these women are considered vixens that cause havoc to men by shifting them into desires and danger. through the written word, we see how women are cast in roles of villains in men’s lives. it is because by their conclusive thoughts, women are the only creatures that are able to turn ‘good honorable men’ into despicable creatures who do shameful, deplorable acts for the sake of women’s pleasures. it is within this narrative that ancient chroniclers declare that women were in fact the doom of men. if they were not able to control the dangers posed by the wiles of women, then the foundations of the mighty society they had built would be up in flames.
[...]
as i mentioned, these factors of community are written down and preserved. and with that, the example of the ancients were the foundations by which medieval society built itself. the same concepts continued to cause the same issue within society and that was the exclusion of women from participating in the bigger picture of community and state, much so with governing states in their own right—without judgment or disapproval.
#asoiaf asks to me#rhaenyra's characterization#rhaenyra in dragonstone#fire and blood characters#westerosi succession#rhaenyra targaryen#rhaenyra and feminism#fire and blood#asoiaf#westerosi history#fire and blood comment
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I lost track of how long we'd been there, searching, risking our safety every. Single. Time. Just to find SOMETHING, ANYTHING…
Eventually, we had to give up, we had to tell others what had happened. It wouldn't be our responsibility alone, and word would eventually spread as we told anyone who would listen… some rightfully tried to accuse us of tricking Shaymin… of… killing her… but there were those who didn't believe that, they could tell by own words, actions and body language that we were not lying or hiding a crime… Shaymin… I refuse to believe she is gone… I REFUSE…!
The following days were a blur, all I could remember was talks of a library, and a young Charizard seeking allies… I never paid them any mind, it wasn't worth my time, how good would someone, a failure like myself, be for saving others from crime? Despite my despair, however, those two fellows who traveled there with me, worked with me to venture into that dungeon after Shaymin far too many times to count, weren't letting me wallow alone. They talked to me about forming a team, their roles as cartographers were being taken over by far more qualified individuals, or so they told me… what kind of team would we form? Joining this "Xerneas Guild" or whatever? I remember asking something along those lines, but the two refused-they felt their mapping knowledge could be put to use elsewhere… the Dungeons.
I scoffed at this claim, but they insisted… the entire time we were venturing in and out of the dungeon forming in Shaymin's domain, it did not change, it wasn't until… that--I decided to entertain the two… dungeoneering was dangerous, no one would do so, but we could potentially gain resources from them if we did this, we could even, maybe one day… take back the lands we left behind… wishful thinking, but it was… something that kept my mind off of reality, at least for a moment. I agreed to forming a team, but I wasn't ready for that, not yet, so instead, I suggested we travel this new world. If we were going to risk everything venturing into these dungeons, we'd need to know the populace we'd be helping… that was my reasoning at least… and it seemed to work… while I agreed to join them… I still had resignations about doing such work… I'd failed so many times… how would now be different?
With the help of our Pidgeot friend, we traveled to the Southern Islands, explored them as well as we wished, though many of them were small and near empty in terms of civilization. We came to learn that many Pokémon decided to leave the moment they gained the ability to do so, and sought out their friends or family that were scattered by the chaos-wishful thinkers. These islands were mostly empty, quiet… too much so for me, I wanted to leave for better lands myself… it makes me laugh thinking back on things now.
The Eastern Isles… we weren't there long.
I had heard that to the West, the Tree of Life allowed Pokémon to evolve, and that the "trial" as some called it varied by those who ventured in, what caused them was still a mystery. Some even claimed to hear voices… it was all too strange for me, but the idea of venturing through that dungeon, the tree where heroes-mere children-saved this world from a cruel fate, was exciting to my companions. I really wonder if they were merely trying to cheer me up… their willingness to help me seek out Shaymin aside… I prayed I didn't steal them away from a good life to follow me into danger. Among the other islands, communities formed around dungeons that they could mine for resources… I couldn't help but laugh at the idea of "infinite resources" from a dungeon… even if there was some truth to it… wouldn't it be dangerous to just dig away like this for too long? If we did form a Guild-as my companions were starting to suggest in idle chatter-we would definitely have a dedicated safety team here, or many teams… but that's a future I haven't even begun to fathom yet. One curious note aside from this, were groups of species or types gathering together… their numbers were horrifyingly low and they seemed eager to find ways to save themselves from going extinct.
The answers to their goals were obvious, though I'd heard not all of these groups stayed in the West and some found ways to fly to wherever they pleased. I feel a long-term method to sky travel in groups won't be far off with the ways these Pokémon are wishing to travel, and considering how long it takes and how often breaks are needed… it will be a serious undertaking. My Pidgeot companion did mention the idea of a basket or something similar to carry Pokémon, but lamented at the speed cost it would have on someone like them… it's funny to imagine…
Our last stop on this tour was the North, bitter, windy and just purely cold, it wasn't the best place to venture to. Some settlements were forming and a curious group of farmers were cropping up in some places… were they meant to be a "Guild" too? They operated like one, but I wasn't too eager to find out… gardening isn't of my interest… despite being a grass type. The only part of our cold adventure I truly remember to this day was seeing what happened to Mt. Freeze… it had begun to fuse with another dungeon near it, becoming a massive valley with the mountain at its center. I couldn't begin to understand what happened, but we were told the dungeons "changed" and this occurred recently. Of all our travels and the few dungeons we came across, none had changed per the Pokémon living there… we assumed a "delay" was occurring, but couldn't pinpoint it now… instead we chose to step back, a large group of Pokémon had begun to gather, some seemed very distraught, with what I could hear, they seemed to be in mourning, something they only now were able to achieve… someone they loved was lost, either here, or this was their homeland. I chose to at least pay respects before we departed ourselves, from a distance, but someone spotted us and kindly greeted us.
They were an Absol, I distinctly remember talking with them for quite a while… they were mourning the loss of another Absol, one who worked closely with the Hero of the Meteor Crisis-which truly surprised me. This dungeon-what was left of it-was once their home, and the cataclysm did… this… to it. At first I felt I didn't have the right to, but I saw this becoming common from that "Xerneas Guild" leader, so I suggested a monument of some kind, to honor their partner, their hero. I remember the Absol falling silent for a long time, just looking out to the mountain, so I did the same. During that time, we had talked about everything I could figure was worth talking about… even though it pained me, we spoke of Shaymin… I didn't have the heart to tell them what I saw exactly, but they understood and let it be… until my suggestion that is. "Shaymin was brave-even if it didn't seem like it." I didn't verbally agree with Absol's statement… but what they said next left me thinking more. "Form your Guild. Take that reckless bravery and use it to help others." They also agreed to suggest the idea of a monument to the others, and that they'd settle somewhere nearby, though I advised against it if the dungeons are changing again, but they claimed it'd be fine. I… agreed to consider it, and eventually, after a bit of idle chatter, we separated and I returned to the Central Islands with my companions… I had some thinking to do…
…
I forgot how long it's been since I visited that dungeon, but I remember the last time we did go there, the monument was built… hah, it had that new-age Unown script written on it… I think it said… "Heroes" if my translation is right… Ah, I need to get Smeargle to help me get used to writing and reading that… After I find some time to visit that little town of theirs, it's been a while…
An Excerpt from
The Founder's Book: Shaymin Guild
#Chapter 2 Part 2: The Shift#The Founder's Book: Shaymin Guild#Apparently this post does not like me using indents... so this one will just... look like this I guess;;;#long post#Like... REALLY long which is maybe-DEFINITELY-why this causes save errors...
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Object of Obsession - 44 / 46
Fandom: Halloween
Pairing: Michael Myers x OFC
Summary: In Haddonfield everyone knows the legend that was Michael Myers. Content and at ease, they’d forgotten what it was to feel fear in the month of October. But now, he finds himself back and ready for blood but then a bond forms between him and one of his victims. A bond he can’t seem to break. And it starts to make him do things he never thought of doing before.
Warnings: (Encompassing the whole story in no particular order) kidnapping, noncon, explicit sexual content, smut, loss of virginity, rough sex, blood and violence, knifeplay, canon-typical violence
Author Note: Minors DNI!
Word Count: 7,243
Chapter 44 - Halloween
How had he done it? Michael wasn't entirely sure. He'd woken up with the entire house around him engulfed in flames. He had been covered in gasoline. For whatever reason, the flames hadn't reached him. It was when he moved that the fire jumped at him. The gas helped ignite parts of his body, and yet he found the strength to get out of there.
Had it been any other time, he would have stomped out through the front door to take on those who tried to kill him. But, he wasn't stupid. He was injured, partly on fire, and exhausted. He went out the backdoor. The fools had left only one person to watch that exit. They were easy to catch off guard. He didn't kill them. Instead, he managed to paralyze them and then threw them into his burning home for good measure.
After that, he trudged through the woods with no particular destination in mind. He needed rest. He needed to get better. He needed her.
He had collapsed at some point, his mind kept replaying the look on her face. She came to him, mouth gagged, eyes hard and accepting of the fate she had told him. When she spun and gave him her cheek, he knew what she wanted him to do.
He couldn't do it. This was his choice to make. He wasn't about to let "fate" tell him what to do. If he was to scar her it would be for his pleasure or amusement. Not like this. Besides. He was Michael Myers. He could take them.
Except-
He'd fucked up. She'd been pulled away from him, screaming into her gag at him to cut her. And, in that moment, he lost his cool. Desperation overtook his calm and collected senses as he tried to get her back. The first hit should have knocked some sense into him. They weren't going to kill her. He'd get her back, he would just have to be patient as usual. But it didn't. He kept seeing the man's face. The one who held her. The way he grabbed her so possessively, covering her eyes. He gave Michael a look, a smile that read only one thing. Mine, now.
Her ghost had come for her and got her. Michael lost. He lost hard. Completely unable to get back into his killer mindset as his desperation hit a whole new level. They beat him. They "killed" him, tossing his body into his grandfather's home and setting it on fire for good measure. But, he was Michael Myers.
It was at least a day, he lay on the cold, hard forest ground, gathering his strength. A part of him wished it was in bed, with her doting over him. Feel her warm soft hands, see her concern. The only person in the world who would ever feel worried for him.
Warm hands? By the following nightfall, he knew where he needed to go. He had gathered his strength and made his way back to town, back to the house that belonged to someone who could take care of him for a night. They wouldn't be happy about it, but they would do it.
Except, reaching Dr. Amelaner's house, he saw the bright yellow police tap on the door. The blood in the home told the tale of her and her family's murder. It was probably blamed on him, not that he cared. Unfortunate. For the both of them. He had started to like the idea of having a doctor "in his pocket" so to speak, in case Gretchen needed help again. Now he'd have to find someone else.
Michael had slept in her house and before leaving in the early morning, he took a butcher's knife that was in her kitchen. It was rather nice and seemed to be of good quality. His killer side grew excited at the idea of testing it on someone.
What an oddly perfect day for someone to die. Multiple people, in fact. It was Halloween. He didn't even realize his favorite holiday was so close. The citizens of Haddonfield wandered through the streets and downtown without a care in the world. They were happy. They felt safe. News of his demise played on the radio and TV. Little did they know that the killer was walking among them now.
But, his mind was conflicted, as the two halves of him, that had merged into one, split again. The killer part of him wanted blood and fear, and the lover part wanted her.
Not want. Need.
He hadn't realized just how at peace he was, knowing she was safely hidden at home for him to come back to. Now that ghost had her. Who knows what he was doing to her. Probably things that only Michael was allowed to do.
It made his blood boil. But losing his temper, getting desperate, it was what had almost killed him. Not this time.
His body led him to the hospital and that's when he saw her, standing in front of a window three stories up. He stood under a tree. Waiting. Watching. Thinking. Even in broad daylight, he seemed to go unnoticed.
It was impossible to see her facial expression, the distance was too far. But her body language told him everything. She had her arms crossed around her, hugging herself. Sad. Mourning him? It really shouldn't have surprised him. She did unknowingly tell him she loved him. It was wrong. For her at least. He wasn't a good guy. He would never change, not even for her. He had a bloodlust and had no problem appeasing it.
But then again, maybe it was a good thing that she wanted him. Because, even if she didn't, he was still coming for her. Willing or unwilling, he was going to get her and take her somewhere else so that it was just the two of them again. He had to wait though, for the right moment.
He kept tabs on who entered and left the hospital. He expected the hospital to get busy, expected to see more police officers because surely they knew he was coming for her. They had to have realize he wasn't dead. And, there were police officers. Just not enough and they weren't on alert for him.
A cute family had passed by him as the day slowly turned into night. All dressed up and laughing, ready for Halloween. Halloween, his holiday. Everyone was far too happy, far too at peace. He was going to have to fix that. Remind them that there was still a boogeyman out there.
They were almost his first victims of the night. The parents at least. He hardly noticed the children till he felt eyes on him and stared back at the little boy. The kid immediately hid behind his parents. As if they could protect him from Michael. It was rather amusing.
It was a quick glance up. His need to strike fear was starting to overpower his want to get her back. Oh, he'd get her back. He was sure of that. But, there were so many potential victims just wandering the streets. So many homes opened and inviting. But, that's when he saw him. It was difficult to make out exactly what was happening in her room. She was pressed up against a window and a man was in front of her. Far too close. Too intimate.
Well, he could have his fill of murder in the hospital. Michael had moved with determination, making his way into the building. No one noticed him. Not even Dr. Loomis. The good old doctor was sitting in a wheelchair, with Michael's mask on his lap, near the front desk. Two police officers were by his side. It amused him that the old man lived to face Michael yet another day. Was this the day he was destined to die?
Michael resisted the urge to just walk up and take what was his. He needed his mask. But, it would have caused too much attention to him when he didn't want it. He walked past a nurse as he went into the stairway. So unnoticed, even without his mask.
He was walking up the stairs when he heard a door slam open. She practically flew down the stairs, running into his body. He tried to grab her, to calm her down. But she didn't see him. She managed to slip through his fingers but that was alright. He heard someone yell down at her, calling her a bitch. He couldn't very well have that.
The first man was surprised when Michael's blade pierced his heart. The second man started to put up a fight, but Michael didn't have time for that. He slashed the man's throat before walking back down the stairs to find her. That wasn't hard.
She was fighting, desperate to get away as strangers wrapped her in a straitjacket. The way her eyes changed when she saw him: happy, sad, determined. And yet, somehow, no one noticed him. It was as if he was a ghost.
There were only six people in the hallway. Gretchen, the two men who held her, Dr. Loomis, a single nurse and a patient waiting on one of the chairs nearby.
The nurse stepped between them, close enough for him to grab. Her hand was raised with a needle in it. Not today. She was so light, so easy to turn and lift up. His knife easily sliced into her skin, mingling her blood with those he had just killed in the stairway. And, then there she lay, on the ground. Completely lifeless. Once a woman with a job, probably a family, and now nothing.
Michael looked up, meeting Gretchen's eyes. Relief? Not the emotion he would have ever expected anyone to give him. Then again, that's what she did to him. Give him responses he didn't expect anyone else to give. She made him feel different. Only to her though.
"Oh shit," one of the men said.
"You son of a bitch!" the other yelled as he placed his hand on his hip, going for his gun.
Gretchen threw her weight on him, causing him to lose his balance. They both fell to the ground. Michael grabbed the needle that was on the ground. He jabbed it into the standing man's eye while plunging his knife down into the other man's leg.
Both screamed.
Gretchen convulsed on the ground, thrashing about as her face started to turn red. There was something in her mouth. Michael quickly pulled out the cloth. The moment she was free she let out a loud gasp and coughed, filling her lungs with air.
Michael turned his attention to the man whose leg still had his knife. Before the man could react, Michael wrapped his hands around the man's throat. Not a quick death for this one, his careless act in stuffing the cloth in Gretchen's mouth could have killed her. He let that more brutal, sadistic side of him show as he slammed the man's head onto the floor until his body only twitched and moved because of the dying nerve pulses.
Finally, he stood up, pulling his knife out of the man's leg as he did so. He stared at the knife, at the blood, twisting his hand curiously at the freshness of it.
More.
"Michael," Gretchen's soft voice pierced through his head.
He slowly lowered his gaze. The straitjacket bound her, making her look more like a victim than ever before. He reached down, grabbing the front of her jacket he pulled her up to her feet.
"I'm sorry, Miss. Carter," Dr. Loomis said. His voice was just loud enough for the three to here. Not that he needed to be so quiet. The last person had took off running, out the front door the moment Michael killed the nurse.
The doctor expected Michael to kill her.
Michael leaned in, playing into the doctor's expectations. He ran his knife along her face, leaving a small trail of his victim's blood on her skin. She waited patiently, accepting whatever fate he had in store for her.
Fuck, never kill.
Michael ran his knife down and then used it to cut through the straps that bound her arms around her chest. She immediately threw off the jacket and dumped it on top of one of the bodies. He saw her muscles tense, clearly, she wanted to hug him. But, for some odd reason, she didn't.
Her hand lightly touched his arm. She seemed hesitant, unsure. She tilted her head up, giving him questioning eyes.
"Are you real?" she asked. Her voice was soft, fearful that she was imagining him.
He wasn't quite sure what possessed him. He should have just grabbed her and taken her away to prove that he was very much real. But instead, he raised his hands to cup her face. The flat of his blade pressed against her cheek. She didn't move. Her eyes glistened as if she was about to cry.
He pressed his lips against hers, not quite demanding the kiss he wanted because he couldn't be that guy just yet. He couldn't be the Michael he was starting to show her. But, just enough pressure for her to know he was very much real. Very much there.
He pulled back. Her right cheek had more blood smeared on it. He reached out and wiped her cheek with his thumb, clearing a small patch.
Dr. Loomis let out a gasp, surprised by Michael's actions. The man had spent eight years trying to find that bit of humanity in Michael. There wasn't any. Well, apparently there was. It seemed that she was somehow able to bring out just that bit of him.
Michael leaned in again. His lips brushed her ear. He saw her skin raise as his warm breath grazed her flesh.
"It takes more than that to kill me," he whispered. He couldn't help but smile at the thought. Yes, much more than that.
Gretchen gripped his sleeve, squeezing his arm as if assuring she was real as well. Then she moved. The sudden feeling of panic gripped him as her fingers slipped off his arm. His hand snapped out, grabbing her wrist, rather painfully he was sure. But, it was time to go. Time to stash her somewhere safe before he began his Halloween killing spree.
Michael tightened his grip on his blade while he pulled her closer to him. His brow furrowed. It dawned on him. The two really only important things to him right here in his hands. His knife in one and Gretchen in the other. Sure, he had killed people with things other than a knife, but it was the knife that he enjoyed the most.
Michael spotted Dr. Loomis who stared back at him, frozen, transfixed. Michael couldn't help but turn his head away from the old man. He was acting too human for his liking. Gretchen moved and he tightened his grip on her wrist.
I am not letting you go right now. She understood. But, she still moved away from him. He kept her within his sight through the corner of his eye. She leaned down and grabbed something from Dr. Loomis. The old man grabbed her free wrist.
"He doesn't love you, Miss. Carter," Dr. Loomis insisted. His voice was loud enough for Michael to hear. "I don't know what kind of sick game he's playing, but he's just using you. He can't love. He can obsess to an unhealthy level. But the man has no soul. He is incapable of loving someone."
Gretchen's body tensed and Michael saw her look back at him. He still kept his head to one side. Not that it really mattered. Both had seen his face plenty of times. It was the principle of the matter. And, he wasn't quite sure why Dr. Loomis thought she had a choice here.
Michael couldn't admit to loving her. She knew that. And Dr. Loomis was probably right. He wasn't sure he knew how to really love. But he knew how to fuck. And he knew how to obsess. And she was his obsession. She would have to make do with that.
Gretchen moved back to his side.
He noticed something in her left hand and he turned his head to look down at it. His mask. Michael raised his head, eyebrows knitted with surprise and confusion. Gripping his mask, she rose to her tiptoes and placed it on his head. Slowly, she lowered it to cover his face. She paused for a moment and then kissed his lips before pulling the mask completely down. Michael's breathing came out smooth and steady through his mask. He felt oddly complete.
A silent gasp made both of them turn to look at Dr. Loomis. The old man's eyes were wide with surprise. It seemed as if he was having trouble understanding what was happening.
Michael gave Gretchen a look. You know who I am. What I do. He felt as if he was giving her a choice.
She looked up at him without fear.
"I want to end him. I want to save my uncle and cousin. Can we do that?"
Gretchen's heart pounded in her chest at her request. Michael stared down at her through his mask. His beautiful blue eyes revealed nothing about what he was thinking. His mask amplified his deep and even breathing.
Not even a hint.
She knew what she was asking of him. A lot. To actually try and help her save two people. How they were going to save Nathan was beyond her. But, at least her uncle's life would be easier. If Brandon hadn't already killed him.
He'll use Jethro as leverage to get you.
Gretchen didn't look away from Michael's eyes, letting him think about what he wanted to do. Be a hero? Your hero. He would get to murder though. She wasn't going to stop him from doing that.
Michael turned his head and looked up at the ceiling lights.
"Oh shit!" A man yelled.
Michael spun and moved from Gretchen's side as he rushed over to the officer who walked in from one of the hallways. The man scrambled to grab his gun. He fired, but his bullet hit the ground as Michael pushed his gun down.
"Miss. Carter," Dr. Loomis said, just loud enough for her to hear. She looked at the old man. He was still trying to reach her. "Think about this. Really think about this. You're a decent young lady. Your family loves you. You don't want to do this. You don't want to help this evil stay on this Earth."
Don't want to do this…
The officer let out a cry of surprise as Michael pushed him back into the hallway and away from her view. Didn't stop them from hearing the sounds as the two men fought.
Dr. Loomis was right. She didn't want people to die. She bent down and picked something up from the ground. Walking over to the old man, she placed her hands on his wheelchair.
"You're going to sleep, Dr. Loomis," she stated, pressing the needle into his skin. The one meant to knock her out.
His eyes widened and he looked as if he were going to fight her, but the drugs kicked in quickly.
"Pray to your God that we die up there. Together," she said, pulling the needle out of his neck. "I don't want him to kill people. But I'm not going to stop him. I want my family to be safe."
Dr. Loomis's head slumped. She carefully arranged him so that he wouldn't hurt himself. Michael's presence made her stand up straight and look up at him.
"You like him," she said. His mask was raised just enough for her to see his mouth. She so desperately wanted to kiss him again. "But he hates you. I figured knocking him out would be better than having him hinder you."
Michael reached out and ran his fingers along her jaw. He leaned down and pulled out the keys from her pocket.
"Go," he said as he placed them in her hands.
"But-"
"I won't kill them. I'll find you. Go or I'll go with you."
She clenched her keys, wanting to argue with him.
"The ghost is in my cousin. Just… help my uncle escape and then get out of here."
Michael didn't reply.
Swallowing back the lump in her throat, she made her way to the front door. She paused. Lightning flashed and thunder rumbled overhead. It had started raining at some point. Putting her jacket over her head, she walked outside.
Maybe he was sparing her from seeing him in full action. Although, she'd already seen him kill several people by this point. Or perhaps she was his kryptonite. His weakness. He knew he'd be too distracted with her around.
Reaching her uncle's car, Gretchen paused. But, Michael didn't know how to deal with a ghost. She tapped her head with the palm of her hand. The fog in her brain persisted, but, she could feel glimpses, sparks. Feel that bit of her that had been unlocked before her birthday.
Michael couldn't deal with a ghost, but she could. And she wanted things to end. Needed them to end. She couldn't constantly be looking over her shoulder. Wondering when Brandon would show up again. She needed him to move on.
Gretchen spun on her heels and rush back into the hospital. Michael wasn't in the front hallway, meaning he trusted her to leave like he told her to.
Oh, he's going to be so pissed. For a brief moment, her heart jumped at the thought of what he would do to her once they were alone. Focus!
Gretchen opened the door to the stairway and ran up the stairs. She had to skip by two bodies. She recognized one. The man who had rushed after her when she was running down the stairs.
Michael. She'd bumped into him and didn't even realize it. Her mind was so focused on escape. Reaching the top door, she paused for a moment before opening it.
A nurse lay on the ground, blood pooled around her from a stab she'd received. Michael hadn't wasted any time in doing what he did best. Turning the corner into the hallway that had her room, she froze. Nathan. Her cousin lay on the floor near her door. A quick glance around him show no weapons, but that didn't mean he couldn't hurt her.
Another body was near his. Michael's knife stuck out of the man's chest. Further down the hallway, she heard objects being thrown and pushed followed by some men shouting.
"Nathan," Gretchen whispered. She rushed over to her cousin, then paused. She wrapped her fingers around the handle of Michael's blade and pulled it out of the dead man's chest.
Just in case. She didn't want to use it on her cousin. But she wanted something to protect herself. Her own powers still remained just out of reach.
Crouching by her side, she tightened her grip on the knife. Carefully, she moved Nathan's head to face her. She examined him. His face didn't fade. She didn't see Brandon. He didn't look like he was bleeding. Had Michael just knocked him out? She placed her hand by his nose. His chest moved and warm air came from his nose.
"Nathan?" she asked, pushing his shoulder.
His eyes opened for a moment. He moaned and started to move. She kept a close eye on him. He was himself. Brandon was gone. For whatever reason, his ghost left her cousin.
"Fuck. My head's killing me," he groaned.
She placed her hand on his forehead. It was burning up. "Nathan, you-"
"Gretchen?" his eyes widened and then he shook his head. "No. You need to get out of here. He's obsessed with you."
"But-"
"Go. I'll be… I'll be… fuck." He placed his hands on his head.
A hand wrapped around her wrist that held the knife and roughly pulled her up on her feet. She let out a cry of surprise and tried to attack, switching the weapon to her other hand. Michael grabbed her other hand as well, glaring down at her in anger. Still the same eyes. Still himself, but then again, she had a feeling that the ghost couldn't possess Michael.
Michael took his knife out of her hand. Gripping her wrist harder than he needed to, he pulled her away. He shoved her toward the stairway and elevator the moment he turned into that hallway.
"Michael!" she started to protest.
The elevator dinged. A sharp sting burned her chest, just above her right breast. Michael had slashed her.
"Asshole!" she snapped, pressing her hand against the shallow wound.
Michael's pupils dilated as if he was surprised by what he'd done. Giving her the smallest of headshakes, he squared his shoulders and moved toward her. His threatening demeanor caused her to walk backward.
"He went this way!" a man yelled.
Michael turned his back to her. Gripping his knife tighter, he took three long steps away from her and toward the new threat. One of them could be Brandon. She needed to know where the damn ghost had gone.
"Michael-" Brandon's ghost is still around. Some-
Gretchen let out a gasp of surprise as a hand clamped around her mouth.
"We're going, love," Jethro's voice whispered in her ear.
She'd fucked up.
Michael turned. His eyes widened slightly as he took a step toward her. Two men rushed into the hallway.
"Die, you piece of shit!" A shot rang out, hitting the wall near Michael.
Time slowed. At least for her. She could feel Michael's dilemma. Turn his back to his attackers and get to her. He'd probably die. Or turn his back on her to take care of his own immediate threat. This couldn't be a repeat of last time. They both knew it. Her look of panic changed to understanding. Michael would find her again.
Michael turned his back to her while Brandon dragged her into the elevator and pressed a button. Her heart beat dramatically in her chest as the door closed her in with the ghost that just refused to give up.
Not that it really mattered, there was only one extra floor, but Gretchen quickly hit the unlit button. Jethro released and spun her, slamming her against the wall. Clear anger on his face. She should have known. Nathan was injured and himself. She should have realized that the ghost had moved into her uncle.
"Fuck you, Brandon," she snapped. "Get out of my uncle."
Her head snapped to one side as a burning pain pulsed on her cheek. Stars invaded her vision for a moment. He'd smacked her. She pressed her hand against her cheek but refused to give him a look of surprise. Instead, she glared at him with contempt.
"Language," he said, pointing his finger at her face. "I'm getting tired of your attitude."
"Fuck you," she spat, placing her hands on his shoulders to push him back. "What? Did Nathan give you too much of a fight that you had to leave him and possess my uncle now?"
The elevator door dinged and opened. Brandon placed his hand around her neck. They both looked as if expecting to see Michael there, waiting for them. He wasn't. The door slowly closed, trapping her once again with the angry ghost.
"I know, by the way. My uncle told me everything!" She pushed against him, trying to escape his grasp.
Jethro glared at her. No. He's Brandon. Not Jethro. His face shifted from anger to a look that made him seem a bit more conniving. He let her go and stood back.
"Oh? What did he say?"
"Told me about our family legend. How apparently I was destined to be chased by two men. An evil murdering one and then my soulmate." She was stalling for time. There was a clearing in her mind. Or at least, there was going to be. She could feel it. The tingling sense of growing power as the fog slowly lifted. And Brandon's face was starting to show over Jethro's. Not to mention, she needed to give Michael time to get to them.
Brandon slammed his hand on the emergency stop button. The elevator let out an alarm as it came to an abrupt stop.
"And, I take it you think I'm this evil man. This murderer?" he asked, turning to face her.
"What do you think?" she snapped.
He snorted, shaking his head. Without warning, he grabbed her and pushed her against the elevator wall again. Her head slammed hard against the siding, making her groan as pain shot through her. Michael never did that. For some reason, her mind immediately thought of the first time Michael pushed her up against the wall. But his hand had gone to the back of her head to protect her from getting too hurt. A strange softness in him that had surprised her at the time. It probably surprised him too. It was unexpected. That was probably the first time he tried protecting someone from getting too hurt.
Brandon's hand wrapped around her throat and squeezed, shortening the air she could take.
"I make one tiny little mistake and you hold it against me. Meanwhile," Brandon nodded down to her fresh wound. "Michael cuts you up real good and you'll still fall into his arms."
Yeah… she wasn't too happy about that cut.
"I will admit," he said. His mouth twitched in annoyance. "I went about things between you and I all wrong. In death, of course. Had I lived, you would have been none-the-wiser. But you don't understand how maddening it is, watching you go to him. Time and time again. And I know why. I've told you why. See, I remember. That's the funny thing about being dead. You get to remember things about your past lives."
She couldn't help but glare at him. Her hands went to his as she tried to get him to loosen his grip.
"I don't blame you. See, in the past, you had to do it. Michael, always the killer, took you. You and I were going to marry. We were meant to be. We loved each other. Yet, he took you, raped you. He was going to kill you. But, you saved yourself. You used the old magic taught to you by your grandmother to take a part of his soul so that he would never want to harm you. It sort of worked. But, when I came to rescue you. Michael lost it. He killed you and himself so that we couldn't be together."
She frowned. There was an air of truth. She felt it, deep in her soul. Events of the past that had happened. But, he was also lying, or perhaps misrepresenting things. Twisting them, knowing she'd feel the familiarity, but she wouldn't know what exactly was true.
"Ever since then it's been a thing. You're born. We come for you. If your powers don't kill you then he does. Unable to accept it when he loses. Because he always loses when I show up."
She shook her head. "You're lying," she said. Michael was many things. A murderer most of all. She knew that. But, she had a feeling that he'd kill the entire world if he had to just to keep her. He'd go down fighting. But he wouldn't kill her.
Brandon's mouth twitched in anger. "He's the murderer, Gretchen. In this life. The one before that and the one that's to come. He'll never not be what he is. Why can't you see that? He's the bad guy! Look, he even cut you. Any deeper, any harder, he could have pierced your heart. He could have killed you."
Gretchen's heart pounded in her chest. Michael's anger had gotten the best of him. It was a horrible excuse. His anger. And she could see it in his eyes that he immediately regretted it. It wasn't the first time he'd cut her. Hurt her. And she wasn't about to let him get away with it if they both lived past the night.
Michael was the bad guy. She knew that. How odd. The absolute and firm understanding that he was who he was and there was no changing him. But, she never once thought to herself that she could change him. It did suck, to say the least, knowing that he would be responsible for the deaths of more innocent people. He might even add a scar on her body.
But my heart is bound to him.
"If he can't have you, he'll kill you, Gretchen," Brandon reiterated.
That's where you're wrong.
"The only person who has really tried to kill me is you," she said, glaring at him.
Brandon rolled his eyes as if his attempt to get her to commit suicide wasn't a big deal. "I've been trying to save you, love. Yes, I have tried to get you to kill yourself. But, I had two very good reasons. One, your family never tried to help you with your powers. They always let them destroy you. I knew what kind of pain you were in for. Or at least, I thought I did. Imagine my surprise that they didn't overwhelm you like they have before. That they didn't give you the painful death that I expected and wanted to save you from. But, I also wanted us to start over again. No point in you living in sadness and pain without me."
Brandon's eyes searched her face. "You're not convinced," he said.
Half truth, half lie. She couldn't help but feel that he was twisting things somehow. Manipulating the knowledge he had to suit his own narrative. He knew he could do that. It might have worked. If she trusted him. If she still believed he was her soulmate. His desperation to have her believe him, and the feeling that he was trying to manipulate her worked against him.
"You've lied to me from the start, Brandon," she said. "Maybe not when you were alive, but ever since you died. You put thoughts into my head, trying to convince me that they were my own. You tried to make me go crazy. You keep changing your-"
He squeezed her throat, cutting off her words and air.
"I'm done, Gretchen. Let's start over," he said, giving her a smirk. "I won't fuck up next time."
Panic coursed through her as she grabbed his fingers and tried to loosen his grip. His hand was like a vice around her throat. He used his other hand to pull her fingers away. Her eyes darted to the elevator buttons. She just needed to get it moving, get the door open. Michael was out there. He had to be. She just needed to let him in.
"It'll be okay," he said as he hushed her. Blackness started to invade her vision. Her lungs burned, demanding air.
It's never Michael who kills us in the end. It's him.
Her strength quickly waned. She'd fucked up. She should have known he was going to eventually try and kill her.
I don't want to die this time. If only there was some way to give her uncle just a little bit more strength so he could regain control of his body.
Brandon released her, allowing her to take in a deep breath of air. She gasped and coughed. She placed her knees on his chest and pushed him back. He stumbled.
"Hurry. I don't know, how long I can keep control," Jethro said. He cried out, clutching his head as he dropped to his knees.
Gretchen staggered to the panel and hit the emergency stop button again. The elevator came back to life, jumping slightly before it resumed its next descent. Gretchen wrapped her hand around her throat protectively while she caught her breath. In the far corner, Jethro groaned.
Brandon let out a frustrated cry. "I am trying to help your family here," he yelled, clearly at Jethro. "Help the fucking world."
The door dinged and then opened. Gretchen scrambled to her feet, throwing herself out of the enclosed space. Brandon lunged at her, grabbing her ankles. She dropped to the ground, letting out a choked cry.
"You're done," he snapped as he scrambled on top of her. She screamed, scratching at his face to get him off her. A body rammed into him. Gretchen rolled away as Nathan rose up and punched his father's face.
"Get out of my dad!" he screamed.
Brandon punched him back, before kicking him in the stomach. Nathan gasped for breath, doubling over in pain. Gretchen scrambled to Nathan, who pushed her back.
"Gretchen, get back," he commanded as he staggered to his feet.
Brandon stumbled onto his feet. Anger. There was so much of it enveloping the room.
"Hitting your own father?" Brandon said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
"Fuck you, ghost piece of shit. We'll figure out a way to get rid of you," Nathan snapped. His arm went out to protectively keep her behind him.
Brandon smiled, revealing bloody teeth. "I'm never going to stop, Gretchen. I can switch between them. Left my mark on their souls. You try and kill me, get rid of me, I'm taking them both with me. But." He extended his hand out. "Take my hand. Save their lives. I'll let them live. I won't drag them with me if you come with me. Fuck the world, right? You don't care what happens to innocent people. But your family. Well…"
"Don't," Nathan whispered.
She didn't plan on it. Still, her heart wrenched at the thought of the final two members of her immediate family suffering because of a possessive ghost who didn't know he had lost.
A warmth pressed against her and she looked up. Michael brushed past her, putting himself between her and her uncle's possessed body.
"Not this fucking time," Brandon snapped. He turned and started to run toward the entrance of the hospital.
"Don't!" Gretchen grabbed Michael's arm as he started to stalk toward the fleeing Brandon. She would figure out a way to save her uncle and cousin. Brandon was arrogant and manipulative. He was stalling. Trying to get her to doubt herself. But, he was scared of her. They could escape for now, and she'd get stronger like her uncle wanted her to. Get that damn ghost out and force him to move on by himself.
"Gretchen!" her uncle's voice called out as a warning.
She moved her gaze ahead.
Time slowed.
Brandon hadn't been running away like she thought. He'd picked up a gun from one of the men Michael had killed earlier and raised it, aiming directly at her.
Michael pushed her back as he moved forward. Hands grabbed her. Nathan covered her body with his. Someone screamed. It was her. Nathan let out a grunt and his body jerked as the bullet hit him. Michael didn't waste any time. Just as Brandon moved the weapon to shoot him, Michael slashed at him, cutting his arm and forcing the gun to fall to the ground.
She cried out, partly begging, while also accepting her uncle's fate. She was about to watch her uncle lose his life. And it wasn't because Michael was targeting her family just because. He saw a threat and he was going to take care of it. Whether she liked it or not. It was his way now.
Nathan's body slouched on her, making her focus on him. He slumped to the ground, taking her down with him.
"Nathan?" she said in a panic.
"I'll be fine," he murmured. He wasn't wrong. The bullet had hit his shoulder. Her relief was short-lived as she looked up just in time to see Michael drop her uncle's body.
"No!" she cried out, scrambling to Jethro's side. He was alive, but barely. His pulse was slowing as the blood started to pour out of him. "Live. You need to live."
She desperately searched for something. Some spell or knowledge that'd help her keep him from dying.
"As I said, murderer," Brandon taunted her. "Think he'll kill Nathan next? Or spirit you away to kill him another day?"
A shadow loomed over her. Gretchen looked up. Michael gazed down at her. His blue eyes held determination and no sorrow for what he had done.
"Dad!" Nathan cried out as he got to his feet and then dropped down, moaning in pain. Gretchen turned her attention to her cousin. Brandon's ghostly form moved toward him.
Not him too. No. She wasn't going to allow Brandon to win. He'd tormented her for far too long. No, Brandon. You're done.
An eerie calm settled over her.
"Stop," she commanded in a low voice. She focused on Brandon. He turned to look at her. A knowing smile on his face. He thought he had her. Thought he had the upper hand in causing her emotional pain. Get her to hate Michael by forcing the man to kill her family in front of her.
"You should have stayed dead, Brandon," she said. She could give him some grand speech about his failures. How every little thing he did just pushed her further into Michael's arms. He probably thought that forcing Michael to kill her uncle would make her turn on him. If Brandon didn't kill her at least she'd hate Michael.
But, he didn't deserve to hear any speeches. He didn't deserve to know where he'd fucked up. He should have taken a hint and moved on. She could see the rips and tears that she'd made when she forced him from her home. She could see the bits that tied him to her uncle and cousin. Easy to snip and free them.
No more repeating. No more back and forth. I've made my choice. Maybe he was right. Maybe they were meant to get married. Maybe they were in love and Michael had stolen her away. He lies. But, that didn't matter this time around and she didn't want it to matter the next time either.
She stood up. Brandon's smile faded as his eyes widened in panic. He reached his hand out as if to stop her or implore her, but she didn't care. Her mind cleared. She found the words that she needed to say. Words that no one knew the meaning of. But she did. She kept her attention on the ghost. He let out a scream that only she could hear. Chills ran through her body. She wasn't just killing the man. She was obliterating him.
His ghostly image tore as if he was being clawed apart. For a moment, it seemed as if he was looking to escape. Perhaps move on. He started to sink into the ground. But, it was too late for him. She knew it. He knew it. He just didn't want to accept it. He opened his mouth but no final words came out. Lies. Truth. An attempt to make her feel for him. Didn't matter what he was going to say. She blinked and he was gone.
Gretchen could only hear her own heavy breathing as she stared at the spot where his ghost stood.
No more.
He was gone. Not just gone in that she'd see him again in the next life. She wouldn't. She'd ripped him apart in a rather painful way if ghosts felt pain. Torn him into tiny pieces. He didn't exist anymore.
Gone.
Her body felt light and she took a step back. A wave of dizziness hit her hard. An arm wrapped around her just before her legs gave out.
"I think I'm going to pass out," she managed to say. Michael lifted her up. She met Nathan's eyes for a moment. She hadn't noticed him move. He was under her, so dangerously close to the serial killer. Nathan had his hands on his father's chest, trying to control the bleeding.
Gretchen looked up at Michael.
"Don't kill him." She didn't think he would, but, she just had to ask. Her eyes grew heavy as exhaustion hit her hard. She didn't fight it, letting her body relax in his arms. Somewhere in the distance, she heard sirens. Hopefully, he'd take them somewhere safe.
Chapter 45 - Love & Obsession
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You Get Sick in the Back of an Uber
AN: so this was a story i have had in my drafts for like three months and just never found motivation to finish it. i decided to finish this first out of my drafts because it was one of the ones that had the most already written for it. unlike some of my others that don't have much written yet. and this was supposed to be longer but i got lazy and ended the end with no dialogue and shorted the story. but i guess that's fine because the main part of this was the uber incident and not necessary the aftercare. (i just love to always include aftercare whether its with sex or getting sick. unless its a blurb) @harryhoney-bee suggested number 1. on my voting post so thank you for requesting i finish this one shot idea that was in my drafts.
This story contains: puke, drunken person, caring husband
{ husband!harry - dad!harry - Grammys 2021 Harry - 4 kids (any age you imagine) }
word count: 1765
When you drink too much at the Grammys, you end up having to get sick in the uber ride home and Harry cares for you.
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Back Story-
After the Grammys, Harry and I decided to go to the little after party that was being held for the Grammy attendees. We knew we couldn't stay too long because we had to get back home to our kids. They were currently with our babysitter but she couldn't stay all night. She has to go home at some point. So we made sure to watch the time.
At the afterparty, drinks were flowing. I haven't drank in a while due to the fact I had been pregnant not too long ago. This was the first night I was allowed to drink and I decided to do just that. Harry was aware of me drinking and promised to watch and take care of me. Though we were at this afterparty for him, he wanted me to let loose and have some fun as well.
But what he wasn't expecting was for me to drink the amount I did. I didn't mean to go over board. It just kind of happened. People handing out drinks left and right and next thing I knew, I was drunk. Not tipsy, drunk. When Harry noticed how drunk I was, he decided it's best to go home.
And because Harry also had drank some alcohol, he wasn't in a state to drive either. By no means was he as drunk as me though. Maybe just tipsy but he didn't want to risk it. So he decided to call an uber for us.
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Current-
We're sitting in the back of the uber on our way home. It's about an hour drive since the city is crowded with traffic due to the Grammys. Right about now is when I regret drinking any alcohol tonight. Because I haven't drank in over a year, my body isn't use to the poison running through my veins. So you could say I'm a lightweight now. My head is throbbing. My vision is blurry. My stomach is turning. Lets just say I regret all my decisions tonight that lead to me feeling this way.
"Harrrrry I don't feel good." I manage to slur out.
"You probably should have stuck to champagne instead of vodka my love." Harry responds, while stroking my hair out of my face in a gentle manner.
Another 10 minutes pass and I'm feeling very nauseous. I'm trying to focus on my breathing but it's not working.
"Harry my stomach hurts." I whisper with hooded eyes.
"Like you're gonna be sick?" Harry questions with panic.
I nod my head and hear Harry asking the driver if he can pull over.
"Can you pull over? My wife is feeling ill." Harry frantically questions the uber driver up front.
"I'm sorry sir but this freeway is packed and there is no way I can get to the side of the road right now." the driver says with a bit of an attitude.
Hearing that made me and Harry both start to panic.
"Well do you have any sick bags in here?" my husband asks.
"Sorry I don't." the driver retorts in a uncaring tone. What kind of uber driver doesn't carry sick bags for when drunks potentially need a ride but feel like they are going to be sick?
I just barley hear Harry let out a frustrated sigh and turn to me.
"Try and relax love. Take deep breaths for me, alright." Harry whispers while rubbing my back as I'm slumped over his body, too disoriented to even hold my head up.
About 3 minutes later, I feel vomit rise up my throat. There isn't much I can to do. The driver already said he couldn't pull over, nor does he have sick bags. I sit up from my slouched position and clasp a hand over my mouth. My legs are bouncing up and down. I'm trying desperately not to puke but I'm doing a poor job. Harry is sitting up with me, trying to comfort me but his words are all a blur at this point.
"If you have to be sick darling, let it out. I'll pay to get this uber cleaned, okay." Harry states in my ear. I know he'd rather not have me puke on the floor of the uber, right beside him, but he can tell I'm struggling and in discomfort.
Hearing those words was all the conformation I needed. I remove my hand from my mouth and let out a gush of alcoholic bile spew from my mouth and onto the backseat floor board. Harry gathers my hair in his hands so it's not in my face. My vomit splatters all over my legs and on the bottom of Harry's Gucci suit. I'd feel terrible about that if I wasn't so out of it, but my mind is a mushed up blur.
"Shhh, that's it. You're alright." Harry reassures me. The uber driver lets out a sigh of disgust, but this is truly his fault that I'm throwing up in his uber right now anyways.
Heave after heave, I let out more of the alcohol that was poisoning my system, right onto the floor. It's not a pretty sight. I'm having a cold sweat and my body is trembling. Though Harry has a weak stomach, when it comes to his wife (me) or his kids, he can always handle a bit of throw up. Or a lot like currently. It's like a fatherly/husband instinct that comes over him and he feels only adrenaline, not yuck.
Finally I feel my stomach relax and I sit up, breathing heavy with vomit dripping down my chin. Without thinking, I wipe it off with the back of my hand and smear it on my already ruined dress. "Feeling better?" Harry asks in a low tone.
"Mhmm." I hum, not really feeling like talking. My drunken brain has cleared up some from the majority of the alcohol being out of my system, but I still feel the after affects drinking brings. I just lean my head on Harry's shoulder for the rest of the ride home and allow the cool breeze to blow on my face. The uber driver did us all a favor by rolling the windows down so we didn't suffocate on the nasty smell of my sick.
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After-
When we arrived home, Harry payed the uber driver, not giving much of a tip and told him that he'd have someone clean his car out in the morning. As well as a half assed apology for my incident beings it could have been prevented. Then carefully, Harry lifted me out the uber and carried me into our Los Angeles home. Good thing our kids were all asleep because they shouldn't have to see their mother like this. Covered in puke and half drunk.
Harry took me to our bathroom and quickly ran down stairs to pay our babysitter, hoping she didn't question my appearance when she saw my state as we came through the front door. She didn't thankfully and left soon after her check was handed to her. Harry came back up to where he left me and helped me clean up and get ready for bed.
He stripped us of our vomit covered clothes and helped me into the big walk-in shower we have in our master bathroom. Then after he delicately washed our bodies along with my hair, he helped us out and dried us off. We brushed our teeth, me with the help of my husband because I was still a bit dizzy. After we're clean of sick and smelt fresh, he helped me put some panties and a t-shirt over my nude body and boxers on himself; just incase our kids woke up and needed us for whatever reason.
Harry helped me into our large bed and tucked me in, bending down to kiss my forehead. Then he walked down to the kitchen and grabbed a glass of water and a bucket incase I needed to be sick again at some point through-out the rest of the early morning. When he had all the items he intended to grab, Harry came back to our bedroom where I was already passed out with sleep.
So he just set the water on my night stand and the bucket on the floor, beside my side of the bed. Then Harry quietly exited our room and went to each of our child's bedrooms to make sure they were fine and still asleep like they should be, which they thankfully were.
When everything was done and taken care of, Harry turned the bedroom lights out and slipped in the covers with me. He helped my body scoot over and I cuddled into his warm body. I didn't realize it in my state of sleep but I knew when I awoke, I'll be thinking about how grateful I am to have a wonderful husband like Harry.
He takes such good care of me. He didn't get upset that I drank too much on his special night and accidently got wasted. He never once got upset that I basically got throw up on his expensive suit tonight in the uber. He didn't get annoyed that he had to shower both me and him past midnight, though he was exhausted. Harry loves taking care of me (and our kids) and wouldn't wish for any other life. Even when his life becomes chaotic and stressful. Harry loves his family dearly and his family love him just as much or more.
Masterlist (regular smut, fluff & sicfics)
My Favorite Harry Styles Fics MASTERLIST
Harry Styles Series - One Shots & Blurbs Masterlist
Harry Styles blurbs, concepts, & short stories Masterlist- (short writing with little to no dialog)
#harry styles#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles fanfic#harry styles x reader#husband!harry#dad!harry#harry styles sicfic#sicfic#harry styles grammys#grammys 2021#harry styles comfort#soft!harry#husbandandwife#harry styles uber
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June 17: Chengxian 💜🖤💕
childhood friends to lovers/QPPs, ace Jiang Cheng, bi & aro Wei Wuxian, modern AU
(A/N: If you're wondering about a certain other someone, he will have a wonderful, full life of his own in Suzhou in this AU but is not in this story. 💙 There are some brief mentions of offscreen ace-antagonism, not by anyone we know.)
Read on ao3
Jiang Cheng had been Wei Ying's best friend in the whole world for his entire life.
Okay. Well, not quite his entire life, but certainly since Wei Ying’s parents moved to California when he was little little, which was about as far back as Wei Ying could remember anyway. Wei Ying’s baba and Jiang Cheng’s baba had grown up in Wuhan together and been best friends when they were kids, so naturally, when Wei Ying’s family moved into the same neighborhood as the Jiangs, it made perfect sense for Wei Ying and Jiang Cheng to become best friends too.
It was Jiang Cheng who had taught Wei Ying that he didn't have to be afraid of dogs, by introducing him to Princess, Jasmine, and Lil' Love. Lil' Love lived up to her name, coming and quietly sitting in all her fluffy glory on Wei Ying’s lap every time he went over to play.
It was also Jiang Cheng who Wei Ying got drunk with for the first time. They snuck booze from the cabinet where Wei Ying’s parents kept it and laughed at the faces each other made with every shot until they stopped tasting the harsh burn, and then laughing more just because.
(Wei Ying’s mom had not laughed, not at the time, when the two teens had been sick as anything the next morning, but instead made them a gloriously greasy late breakfast and gave them lots of advice about proper hydration.
Then she told Jiang Cheng’s mom and let her scold them.)
It was Jiang Cheng who came out first, their first semester in college, when he told Wei Ying he didn't think he wanted to have sex with anyone, ever, and asked if Wei Ying thought that meant no one would ever want to date him. Wei Ying hugged him tight and told him he didn't know about everyone out there, but he knew Jiang Cheng was the best guy in the world and would be an awesome boyfriend, and he'd fight anyone who said differently.
Jiang Cheng found a group on campus for third culture LBGT kids, and Wei Ying went with him, as a supportive ally.
Which was how Wei Ying figured out that he was not just a supportive ally.
In listening to the others talk about orientation and identity and attraction and cultural expectations, Wei Ying realized that what he'd always assumed was normal—finding all kinds of people physically attractive, regardless of their gender—was actually his bisexuality. So that was kind of cool.
"So yeah, now we can be queer together!" Wei Ying said, when he excitedly shared his newfound realization with Jiang Cheng.
Jiang Cheng snorted. "Yeah, 'all' and 'nothing,'" he joked.
It was Jiang Cheng who'd helped him practice what to say to his parents when he wanted to change his major at the end of sophomore year, and Jiang Cheng who reminded him to eat and sleep and "take a fucking break, Wei Ying," those next couple semesters when he took way too many hours so he wouldn't have to rack up a whole extra year's worth of student loans to finish his new degree plan.
It was Jiang Cheng who graduated first, on a gorgeous blue-skyed sunny day in May, and Jiang Cheng who suggested Wei Ying keep living with him at his new apartment, so he wouldn't have to try to find a one-semester lease until he finished in December.
(They renewed the lease together every time.)
Jiang Cheng ribbed him playfully each time Wei Ying met someone new, but he was always there each times things fizzled out after a few months for reasons that never quite made sense to Wei Ying.
Jiang Cheng occasionally dated too, and Wei Ying was glad he never did have to fight anybody—though he did drive Jiang Cheng to the emergency room the time he came home with split knuckles from punching a guy who, "seemed to think I didn't know my own mind about certain things."
But dating sucked for everybody, right? It wasn't like Wei Ying or Jiang Cheng were in any hurry to settle down and do the whole spouse and kids thing or whatever. Wei Ying tried to imagine it and just... couldn't, though the image of Jiang Cheng with a baby was admittedly pretty cute.
~
It was not Jiang Cheng, but Jiang Yanli, a few months after she proposed to her girlfriend and they started planning their wedding, who Wei Ying finally asked, "Yanli-jie, how does a person decide someone else is their person?"
Jiang Yanli looked across the room to where Jiang Cheng was showing her soon-to-be-wife how to put side spin on a billiards ball and smiled. "I think you just know," she said. "You meet someone and you get to know them, spend time together, then one day you realize you love them and want to build the rest of your life with them."
Wei Ying wrinkled his nose. "I dunno if it works that way for me. Just some random person? I've never met anyone I can imagine wanting to live with all the time. Well, besides—huh..." he cut off suddenly and darted a look over at Jiang Yanli, who just calmly sipped her drink.
"Have you ever told him that?" she asked, after a moment where Wei Ying reassessed his entire life and dating history. "I think he might appreciate hearing it."
"I... huh. Yanli-jie, you're kinda blowing my mind here," he complained.
"I gathered," she said wryly, before fixing him with a smile that made all the hair on the back of his neck stand up. "Of course, I trust," she told him, "that I do not need to explain to you of all people how very dearly I hold my didi's happiness and well-being."
He swallowed and raised three fingers in the salute he'd used ever since the summer that—hah—he and Jiang Cheng had decided as kids that they would make their own oath of brotherhood like the heroes of their favorite show. "I, Wei Ying, swear to you that I would kick my own ass before I did anything to hurt him."
Jiang Yanli leaned over to knock her shoulder against his and nodded. "That's what I thought."
~
Turned out, dating Jiang Cheng didn't suck at all.
It felt easy in a way Wei Ying’s past dates never had, less like trying to keep up with a game whose rules everybody knew except him, more like... well, like spending time with his best friend in the whole world, but on purpose. There was also a tension in the back of Wei Ying’s mind that seemed to have lifted, though he couldn't quite pinpoint what it was that had gone.
It was Jiang Cheng who helped him figure it out.
"I think it's that now I'm able to count on this. On us," he said, when Wei Ying brought it up. "Before, whenever you went out with someone new, I wondered if this would be the time you'd find someone to fall in love with and leave me behind."
"Aww, Chengcheng! I would never!"
Jiang Cheng huffed and rolled his eyes, but his cheeks were pink. "Well, I know that now," he said, a pleased little smile breaking through his attempts at a scowl.
"As long as you're sure—" Wei Ying began, still getting used to thinking about himself with the word "aromantic." Still a so very sure that Jiang Cheng deserved to be fallen in love with.
"Hey!" Jiang Cheng cut him off. "None of that. I know you. And I know you don't see it this way, but I personally think it's pretty damn romantic that you choose to love me, on purpose."
"I simply have exquisite taste in life partners," Wei Ying sniffed, embarassed the way he always got when Jiang Cheng declared something he'd done "romantic."
"You do," Jiang Cheng agreed. "Someone told me a long time ago I was the best guy in the world and would make an awesome boyfriend, and that he would fight anyone who said differently."
Wei Ying laughed. "That's you and your sister I've promised to kick my own ass if I ever break your heart, then. Guess I'll just have to keep you forever."
"Damn right, you will," Jiang Cheng agreed, grinning smug and happy and breathtakingly beautiful. Wei Ying leaned across the couch to give him a sweet, closed-mouth kiss—the kind Jiang Cheng had shyly admitted he actually did like, a lot—and smiled too, at how lucky he'd gotten to be with his best friend in the whole world for his entire life.
🖤💜
Today's (extremely long!) thread was inspired by this WONDERFUL art of ace Jiang Cheng and bi & aro Wei Ying! Go give Midori some love on Twitter!
I spent a nonzero amount of time googling to double check when various terms and flags came into vogue, so if you're wondering, WWX & JC were in college in the early 2000s, before the ace and aro flags were designed. By the time they get themselves figured out, they can get their cute wristbands.
...which, yes, means these dingdongs spent about a solid decade living together before realizing that was what they wanted to do forever. 😉
This also means Jiang Yanli and her unnamed wife here are getting married between when California started recognizing same-sex marriages in 2008 and the Obergefell v. Hodges ruling in 2015! THIS SHIT'S RECENT!!!
Happy Pride, thank you for reading, check out more LGBTQIA+ sweetness on my #PrideMonthSnippets Masterpost!
#PrideMonthSnippets#chengxian#westie writes#mdzs#the untamed#asexual pride#aromantic pride#asexual jiang cheng#bisexual wei wuxian#aromantic wei wuxian#queerplatonic relationship#queer relationships#love has a lot of shapes
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The Perfect Bad Boy (Pt. 16 of 18)
Pairing: Billy Hargrove X Reader
Word count: 3 K
Summary: Working as a lifeguard in the Hawkins Community Pool, you try to fit in after moving from New York. Things were going pretty well when you notice you've been under someone's stare. Billy Hargrove, Hawkins' bad boy, has been staring at you since day one. You never intended to have anything to do with him, judging by the reputation he has. But Billy won't leave you alone, determined to show you his feelings are different this time...
As if your heart flooding you with confusing feelings wasn't enough, there are weird, strange animals lurking in the woods... But those have to be just part of the wild live of the woods surrounding Hawkins... Right?
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{Stranger Things Masterlist}
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The Loss Of A Friend
You've never been to a funeral. Well, you did, but you were a kid and you didn't know the family friend who was being buried that day. In your child's mind, you didn't get why everyone was wearing black, in uncomfortable silence, crying all day long. You remember clearly that a blue bug got your attention, making your eyes follow its every move, making you smile despite the sad atmosphere.
It couldn't be more different today.
As the coffin is lowered into the ground, where Jason will forever rest now, you hold Billy's hand, the soft fabric of your black dress tickling your tights. You barely feel it though, all your sensations resumed to the weight in your chest, crushing, squeezing your ribs, smashing your heart.
You suddenly remember the day Monica introduced you to Jason. It was the Saturday before you started working at the pool, in the parking lot of Starcourt Mall. He had his little brother on one arm, and the girl walking beside him, tugging on the hem his shirt.
“So that's the new girl.” He said, a smile spreading across his lips as he reached out his hand for you to shyly shake. “I'm Jason, born to bear the weight of being Monica's cousin, but also the coolest guy you'll find in Hawkins.”
That, of course, started a small war of cheesy pick-up lines, insults, and sarcastic comments. You laughed, feeling easily welcomed by Monica's cousin.
Now, what gets your attention is how his young siblings cry, yell, calling out Jason as is he was just sleeping inside the wooden box and would wake up, smile, and start chasing them around again. He won't. Jason is only a memory now.
“I think we should go,” Billy says in a low voice, letting go of your hand to rub your arms softly.
Nodding, you let him guide you to his Camaro, driving you away from the sea of people dressed in black. You've known Jason for such a little time compared to everyone else here, who saw him grow up, studied with him, lived near him for many years. Your pain is just a speck of dust compared to theirs.
When you get home, the sun is setting. You decide to call Diane, just to make sure she's alright, but you don't tell what happened. It would make her come here immediately, and the last thing you need is someone else you care about being in danger. You have to lie, despite hating yourself for it, telling her that your voice is funny because you had to yell a lot with the kids at the pool. But it's better this way. There are more than enough people here you need to worry about.
“Come here,” Billy calls when you finally head to the bedroom. He sits in the bed, back against the headrest and you're quick to crawl into the bed and into his arms. “How are you feeling?”
“I don't know. Sad doesn't really explain it.” Putting your legs over his, you hide your face on his neck, breathing in your favorite cologne, the only one he uses since the day you told him that. “I can't believe I buried Jason. Jason. My crazy-ass friend.” Your voice cracks and you hold back a sob. “I'll never hear those stupid jokes again.”
“I'm so sorry, princess.” There's a pain in his voice too. Billy has been around Jason a bit, mostly with you. But you know he's actually sad because of how broken you are. You can see it in his eyes, that he wish he could take your pain away, and that he's desperate because he doesn't know what to do.
But there's nothing Billy or anyone else could do. You can't fight death. You can't hit it with a baseball bat full of nails until it gives your friend back. The only thing you can do is avenge him. Get whatever took him and destroy it.
“I wanna kill those Demothings.” The anger in your voice is tangible, and you clench your hands into fists. “I swear to God, Billy, I'll kill one of them myself.”
“Anger won't help. We need to be smart about it. We need a strategy.” Billy is often angry with things. Mostly with things that hurt you, but this time, you get why he's taking another path, trying to calm you down instead of putting more wood in the fire. “The meeting is set for tomorrow. We'll find a battle plan to kill those damn things.” His hand comes to lay on your thigh, fingers softly caressing your skin. “But for now you need to rest, ok? I'll cook something you like and then we'll cuddle watching some nice movie. How does that sound?”
“What if I cry through the movie?” You ask because more tears start rolling down, it doesn't matter how many times you try to get rid of them.
“Then I'll hold you tight.”
“Sounds good to me.”
Billy is kind enough to try and get you into some small talk. Nothing too complicated, nothing related to the Demothings or Jason. You're thankful for that. He even manages to get a few laughs from you, although they're always followed by a reality check when the events of the last two days hit you again, and the smile is gone.
A couple of hours later you're watching Jaws, your head on Billy's chest as you try to follow the events of the movie. But it seems way too fast for you, or it's just your mind that's refusing to process anything that's happening.
You just keep thinking about death. About how Jason's whole life was cut short. How all of his plans for the future were erased.
“Billy, can I ask you something?” Keeping your voice low, you speak up for the first time since you came to the living room after having dinner.
“Of course, princess. What is it?”
Biting your lip, you consider if you should really bring that up. It's selfish to talk about your future when someone else won't have one. But this whole situation made you want to make plans because it's a privilege to still be here. It's a blessing to still have time. “What you said to Joyce about... Marriage. Did you really mean that or–” Pushing yourself up from where you were laying on top of him, you take a deep breath. “–or were you just trying to get out of the conversation. Because it's ok if–”
“Haven't I made it clear that I want to be with you for the rest of my life?” He moves to sit up as well, pulling you close until you're placed in between his legs, a hand caressing your cheek. “Because if I hadn't, I'll make it clear now. I want to be with you for the rest of my life. I don't know how it happened, and it did get me by surprise, but the day you walked in the Hawkins Community Pool, I knew something changed in me. I knew I had to get to know you, and I did thought it would pass, that I'd get tired of you as I got of the other girls, but I didn't.” Billy holds you closer to him, your foreheads touching. “You hit me like–”
“Bang.” You finish for him, the memory of the day he was unbelievably honest with you coming back. The day he admitted to you, and somehow to himself too, that he liked you. It was also the day he punched David, and the day he kissed your cheek, making your stomach burn like it has been set on fire.
“Like bang.” He breathes out, warm lips coming in touch with yours. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull him as close as you can, the need to feel that he's here, with you, clouding the sound of the TV. Billy moves to lay back down again, and when you move to follow his change of posture, your knee slips and connects to his ribs. “Ouch!” He breathes out, cutting off the kiss.
“Oh, shit. I'm so sorry.” Covering your mouth, you bring the free hand to rub his side. “Sorry, baby.”
Taking a deep breath, he grabs your arm and pulls you down, making you collide on his chest, giggling. “Sorry. I shouldn't be joking around with you now.”
Squinting your eyes at him, you try to get up, but his strong arms come around your body, keeping you from moving. “I hate you, Hargrove.” The fake sentence is soon overcome by a giggle. “I'll kick you right this time, I'm warning you.”
“Oh, I'm shaking like a leaf.”
“Don't test me, Hargrove. Keep in mind we sleep on the same bed and I know all of your habits, baby.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Mhmm.” Mumbling, you manage to stand up, moving back into a sitting position. You know he actually let you go, but there's no reason to acknowledge that. Taking a deep breath, the sudden happiness is stained again, as the memories crawl back. It seems like Billy notices because his smile softens. “I love living with you, you know that, right?”
“I love waking up next to you every morning.”
You can't help the smile that comes to your lips as you bend over again, kissing his lips.
On the next day, Billy calls Anthony to ask him to give you a few days off work. Obviously, you have to urge your hothead boyfriend not to curse the manager and risk losing his job. You feel fine to go to the pool, or you think you do, but the truth is you wouldn't be paying much attention anyway. And much to your dismay, Billy gets a total of zero days off. No discussion, what makes him hang up the phone so hard you thought he broke the poor thing.
Since you don't want to be alone, and Billy would absolutely never allow you to be alone in the house when you're friend just died, he drives you to Joyce's place, where the party will gather to make plans.
Saying it's hard to be away from Billy on the day after you buried Jason is a misunderstanding. Seeing him drive away from Joyce's porch makes you feel like he's taking your heart with him. He didn't seem pleased either, but there was no other choice. You wouldn't make him miss the day, since you know Anthony is a terrible human being, just looking for the right excuse to get rid of the lifeguards.
“Honey, come inside,” Joyce calls a hand on your shoulder. “Can I get you something to eat? We had pizza last night and I have a slice in the fridge.”
“No, thank you, Joyce.” Politely, you decline her offer. “Is there any bed I can crash in?”
“Sure. Come.” Walking through Jonathan and Will, you wave at them, muttering a good morning and trying not to cry at their sad faces. They know Jason was a close friend, and, like everyone else, they don't know what to do or say. “This is Will's and Jonathan's room. Just pick a bed.” Nodding, you choose the one on the left and lie down. “Do you need to talk?”
“There's nothing to say.” Putting your head on a pillow, you stare at the ceiling. You feel comfortable around Joyce, she has this mother thing about her. “I just want this to end. Before anyone else gets... Eaten.” The word makes you shiver as it brings the image of his body back. “I wish I wasn't the one to find him. To... See him that way. I don't think I'll ever forget that.”
“Honey, I'm so sorry.” She comes to sit on the edge of the bed. “When... When they found Will's body, it hurt. I knew in my heart it wasn't him, but the very idea of losing my baby was horrible. So I have an idea of how you feel. Losing someone is a pain that doesn't go away. You'll get used to it, but it remains. All we can do is learn to deal with it and honor them by carrying their memories.”
You're crying through her speech, and you can't help but sit up and hug her, crying on her shoulder. “We have to be careful because I can't lose anyone else.” You're not sure if she can even understand what you're saying, but since she nods, you think she did.
“Don't worry, honey. We'll all be alright.” She pulls away, rubbing both your arms. “The kids will be here soon, but feel free to stay here or join us, ok? Do whatever makes you comfortable.”
“Thanks.” Offering her a small, sad smile, you watch as she leaves.
You hear when they get here, the chattering starts, and you can understand a few words here and there. They talk about you, and about Billy and about the funeral. But soon enough it falls into the major problem. And that's when you tune out, staring at the ceiling, trying not to make yourself too comfortable in someone else's bed.
The only thing you want now is Billy. You want to go back to the time where there was no Demogorgon, Demowhatever lurking around. At least to you. It's weird to know what really happened in Billy's car accident, how he was almost the host for the Mind Flayer. You're happy it didn't happen, that he's here now. You need to thank Max for that, actually. If it wasn't for her and the others, your Billy wouldn't be here. He could be dead, and you'd never meet him. He'd never shoot glances at you, or drive you home, buy you tacos or punch David's face. Or kiss you, hold you, love you. The thought of a life without Billy in it is absurd. Now, more than ever, after you lost someone so dear, you have this need to be with him. Just to make sure he's here.
Breathing out and closing your eyes, your hand comes to hold the necklace. It makes you feel closer to Billy, and there is a silent promise here, one you hold close to your heart, together with the earring.
Eyes open, you get up of the bed. You don't care if you got days off, you have to see him. Even if it's just for a hug. Leaving the bedroom, you make your way to the living room, which is crowded.
“We wait until it's late at night to make sure the Demodogs are out, sneak inside the tunnels, and spill insane amounts of gasoline all over it. Get the hell out, wait until it's morning, and set the whole thing on fire.” Dustin says, hands in the air and a smile on his face.
He's kidding, right? He can't be suggesting that as if it's the greatest idea of the world. “Are you completely insane?” You ask, making your presence known. Arms crossed, your eyes scan through the party. “You can't possibly think this is a good idea.”
“I agree with (Y/N), this is insane,” Joyce adds, her face making it clear she thinks this idea sucks. “I won't let you do that.”
“But–”
“The point is to kill them without getting ourselves killed. And every single idea you come up with has a hundred different ways to get us killed.” Steve says, both his hand on his hips as he paces around the room. “Who thinks this idea sucks raise your hand.” He's the first to do it, and Joyce, you, and Jonathan do the same.
“Count Billy in.” You say, raising the other hand as well.
“And Hopper,” Joyce states, giving you an approving stare.
“It's six against seven. We're doing it.” Dustin exclaims.
“No.” You basically shout, not caring one bit if you sound bossy. All eyes lay on you as you struggle to keep it together. “We're not doing it and that's final.”
“I–”
“I just lost a friend and I will not let you do something that might just end up in another funeral.” There are tears threatening to fall again, but you hold them back. “So come up with something else.”
The silence is deafening. You know you're breaking down again, even though the tears aren't rolling down. Yet.
“Please. There's gotta be something else.” Lowering your voice and looking down at your feet, you beg. You can't even think about someone else dying. You couldn't bear it.
“I saw this thing at school. Like a robot with remote control.” Lucas starts. “If we could build a bunch of them and attach a hose, we could guide it inside the tunnels and spread the gasoline.”
“Yeah, but there are seven holes. Which means a lot of ground we'd have to cover.” Eleven adds as you make your way to the group, sitting on the couch beside Joyce.
“Let's blow up six of them.” You burst out, crossing your legs. “A hell of a explosion that would take those things days to dig it back. Then there will be only one way in and out. Find a hell of a long hose or just connect a bunch of them and a million gallons of gas. The robots will spread it then we'll just need a match.”
“That's good. It could work.” Nancy says. “But we'll need to chip in to buy all these things.
“Hopper can get some for free I'm sure.”
“We start right now.” Mike stands up and the others follow. “Let's get started.”
The rest of the day is hectic. Lists are made, one of the kids teachers come over to help with what they called a summer project. For fun. And the materials started arriving. You don't really know what to do, so you help Joyce make lunch, keeping up with her small talk. Joyce is easy to be around, and you like to hear her stories about Will and Jonathan. You even manage to show a few smiles every now and then. After everyone is fed, you finally sit on the porch, trying to help as much as you can. The kids are genius, literally building remote control robots from random pieces and the instructions from books. It's amazing. Since you can't really be of much help in this aspect, you join Nancy, separating stuff or doing anything they tell you too.
When the sun is setting, some of them had to go home to gather their stuff. They'll crash here and take the robot construction through the night. By the moment you hear the faint noise of Billy's car, it's just Joyce's kids, Steve and Dustin. Leaving the small pieces of metal you were shaping into tiny little circles, you stand up abruptly.
“Where are you going? These circles aren't going to make themselves.” Dustin complains, raising his hands in the air.
“Billy is back.” There's no need for further explanation, so you tiptoe among the stuff, careful not to step on anything.
“It could be anyone.”
“Dustin, is there any other car in Hawkins that sounds like that?” As you speak, the noise gets louder and Billy's car comes to your sight.
“She knows her boyfriend's car.” Steve jokes as you walk to the yard, smiling when Billy stops the car and comes out.
“Miss me, princess?”
“Obviously.” It's a feeling of pure relief to see him. It feels like it's been so much longer than just some hours, but you feel that you'll have this insane need to be around him for a while. Just to enjoy the fact that you're still alive. You can't help but wonder for long the idea of death will hover over you... Probably forever.
“You ok?” He asks, his hand on your hair as you have your head on his chest.
“I will be.” Remembering the audience, you pull away, standing on your toes to kiss him. “Dustin had a terrible idea but I made him change his mind about it.”
“How did you do that?”
“I yelled.” With no intention of further explanation, you turn at the guys. “I'll be back tomorrow morning, alright? Have fun doing crazy science.” Waving at them, you get into the car.
You would like to stay at Joyce's, keep helping as much as you can, but you feel like you need silence and peace. The kid's laughter and jokes make you feel better, but you know that you also need to let the sadness creep over for a while. Keeping it hidden, disguised, makes no good. So as you dry and brush your hair, waiting for Billy to finish his shower, you cry.
For Monica, for Jason's younger siblings, his mother, his father, uncle, and aunt. For every friend he made since he was born. And for yourself too. Jason was one of the people that you imagined you'd be around for the rest of your life.
You're dragged away from your thoughts by the phone's ring. Rushing to answer it, you find it's Joyce, kindly asking if you can pick Mike up and drive him to her place, and of course, you comply.
“Billy.” You call when you hear him coming out of the bathroom. “Joyce needs us to pick up Mike. Nancy can't stop what she's doing there.”
“Sure. Let's go.”
Being out at night makes you anxious, but you try not to let it show. Eyes on the road, you bounce your leg nervously, tugging on the seat belt. Billy notices, and a hand comes to rest on your thigh.
“We'll be fine. Relax.”
“I'm trying.” Stretching your arm, you touch his neck. “I'm sorry if I can't stop thinking about Jason and what happened.”
“(Y/N), you just lost a friend. My responsibility as your boyfriend is to hold and love you through this process. Don't apologize.”
“I don't want this to be your responsibility, Billy.” When he turns his head to look at you, you run your fingers through his jaw.
He takes a deep breath, pulling over by Mike's house. You were about to get out, but since he doesn't move, neither do you. Billy looks like he's thinking, furrowed eyebrows and distant eyes. “Billy? Come back to Earth.” You decide to ask, taking off the belt and turning your body towards his.
“To have and to hold. For better or worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health.” He squints his eyes through the words, trying to remember them. It takes a while for you to understand what he means, and when you do, your heart starts drumming in your ears. “To love and cherish till death do us part.”
“Billy...”
“It means I'll stand by your side. Not because I feel like it's my responsibility, but because I love you. And I'm more than happy to take the responsibility of being your–”
“Couldn't you save that up for, I don't know, someday when I'm dressed in white?” The words come out fast, and you're blushing hard, your cheeks burning. “No. You had to do this now. Drive me insane now in your Camaro.” You roll your eyes dramatically when his lips break into a smile, that smug, cocky smile he has when he knows he got to you somehow.
“Be my wife, (Y/N).”
“No.” It's an utter absurd how hard you have to fight not to say the exact opposite. You want to just burst out the word, here and now, because you're so damn sure you want Billy for the rest of your life. “No, baby. We'll graduate, save up money and you'll make a decent proposal.” You hope he can't notice your hands shaking as you step out of the car, almost stumbling on the sidewalk. His words burn through your mind, sending shivers down your spine. “I won't say I'll marry you in the middle of the sidewalk, in the middle of the night, in front of Mike's house.”
“Did I just make you nervous?” Billy's arms come to encircle your waist, his deep voice, and breath on your hair making you sigh.
“Shut up, Hargrove.” With the sweet sound of his laughter on your ear, you knock on the front door, trying to push him away before someone comes to answer. “Let go.”
“Are you using my cologne again?” As soon as he asks, you feel his nose softly rubbing your neck, what makes you giggle and try to push him away again, uselessly. “You are.”
It wasn't your intention to let him find out, but he always does. “Well, it was–”
The door is suddenly open, a yellowish light hitting your eyes as you try to stand up straighter. The woman standing there gives a step back as if she just saw a ghost. Her eyes fly from Billy and back at you, then all the way back to Billy. It hits you suddenly as you realize she's Mrs. Wheeler, the woman Billy was going to meet on the day the Mind Flayer almost got him. They haven't met or spoken since that day, and you weren't expecting her to look so... Perplexed. You try to read her expression, to understand what the look in her eyes means.
“Hello, Mrs. Wheeler.” You manage to say because Billy clearly won't even try to be polite. You feel his muscles tensing up, as he gets immediately uncomfortable under the woman's stare since she doesn't seem to even try to hide. “Sorry to disturb you. We're here for Mike.”
×
@chloe-skywalker @dpaccione @dreamin-of-dacre @funeral-7 @uncookspaget @youhavemyfantasticbeasts @halloweenbitch2764 @redlovett @multific @shinydixon @nikkixostan @clockworkballerina @nope-thanks
#imagine billy hargrove#billy hargove x reader#billy hargrove fanfiction#billy hargrove x y/n#billy hargrove imagine#billy stranger things#stranger things imagine#imagine stranger things#stranger things fanfiction
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No Harm List Pt.4
Word Count: 7.2k
Summary: You live in a city where crime runs rampant. One day, you save a young boy's life, not knowing that he is the most powerful crime lord's heir. And you have just been put on the no harm list.
Trigger warnings: DESCRIPTION OF PANIC ATTACK!! I really took my time with writing this, trying my hardest to convey these feelings without being triggering. I also tried to make it as comforting as possible, but if you are feeling a little anxious maybe save this fic for a better day. Mental health first!
Additional warnings: mentions of violence, explicit language, mentions of death,
Genre: Romance, angst, violence, gang/mafia AU,
Rating: 18+ (bc of mentions of violence there’s no sexual content)
<- Pt.3
"Hobi, I don't wanna be mad. I just wanna know the truth,” you pleaded, voice wavering. And that was the truth, you felt like you could care less if he was in a gang. It was Alcorn, you had to be in a gang to survive if you weren't rich.
Upon seeing your eyes water and your lip tremble, Hoseok instantly wished you would scream at him. He didn't want to hurt you. He didn't mean for it to go this far. For you two to get so close after his sister's death, or for him to lie to you for so long. He told himself he kept you out of it for your safety, but really it was just too easy for him to live two lives, for you to look at him like he wasn't a murderer and for him to pretend for a few hours that he wasn't.
He sighed, sitting on the couch, and you plopped down next to him and waited patiently for him to gather his thoughts.
"I guess it's best to start at the very beginning, which was when I was around 16," he started.
"I lived in the same neighborhood as these two guys RM and Suga. They had actually served some time for getting busted with another gang, the Dime Lions, they're long gone now but basically, some shit went down during some kind of gang raid, and RM and Suga ended up taking the fall for it. Instead of the Dime Lions busting them out of jail, they left them there and basically disowned them afterward."
You nodded along to let him know you were following.
"Anyways RM and Suga, they had a rough start when they got out of the gang, both were bastards, street rats on the Westside they never had anyone to look out for them. So they did the only thing they could do at the time to survive, which was breaking it to cars and shit and cleaning them out. I don't just mean personal belongings of these guys took engine parts, piping, tiers they took it all, and sold it to any scrap shops they could find. At the time, I was working at my uncle's scrapyard. I knew RM and Suga when they were in middle school before they joined the Dime Lions. They stayed with the foster family that lived in my neighborhood. I knew they had been kicked out of the house and were basically living with the Lion's, so when I saw they were working alone, I got curious. For a year or so, I convinced my uncle to continue buying from them even when he started getting a little suspicious about the guys stealing. The guys knew I looked out for them, and we were cool for a while. Then my mom got sick," he paused for a moment looking away from you.
You reached out and placed your hand on his leg knowing how hard it was for him to talk about his mom and Dawon.
Collecting himself, Hoseok went on, "So I asked for an in with the guys, I needed money and I knew cars. I could remove the parts more effectively than they could. I also knew some clientele who were always coming by and buying parts because they flip cars for fun, those guys were easy targets. So I guess the three of us were a little gang of misfits for a while, I used the money to help pay for mom's treatment. They used the money to survive.
Then we started taking some younger ones under our wing. RM and Suga got their own place and opened their doors to some kids in a rough spot like they were. But as we got bigger, we started getting sloppy. We had been at it for about a year at this point. The guys started taking on some other jobs, but I stuck to what I did best. I wasn't really interested in broadening my horizons. Like I said, we had been at it for a while, and I got cocky, I guess. We had a few scuffles here and there, but we always got out of them okay. Then one night, we got busted scraping a car at some guy's house, and he shot me in the leg, and the cops got me. RM ended up bailing me out of jail, and Suga, Suga got me a gun."
He shifted in his seat and looked at you nervously, "I wanted out at this point, mom was basically on her deathbed, and I was all Dawon had. I couldn't risk going to jail, ya know. I owed RM money for bail, but my uncle got me a job as an actual mechanic, I thought I could earn money the honest way, pay them back and then Dae and I could just go back to our lives. But then the doctors told us about some experimental treatment that could possibly cure mom. How the hell could I pass that up? I would have done anything to help her get better." his brows furrowed as he tightened his fist into balls.
"So I stayed. At this point, BTS was growing, it was an official gang, tattoo and all. We had recruited Jin, who came from money, he used some of his trust fund to fund BTS and help us grow, and RM was starting to get a little ambitious. He wanted territory, he wanted me to take the tattoo and be his third." Hobi squeezed his eyes shut as he let out a sigh, he felt like he had to force the words out of him to confess his sins to you.
"I told you Suga got me a gun after the arrest, and it ended up I'm a really good shot, so good I didn't even have to kill a guy for a long time. I researched where to shoot to keep someone down for a long while without it being fatal, so that's what I did. I worked a few more jobs for RM, we did a big heist. Actually, that was our big break. A team of six other guys and I broke into this old rich dude's mansion, nearly cleaned out his safe when we split the money most of the guys put a percentage into my pot. I walked out that night with almost enough to pay for mom's treatment in full.
I told RM I wouldn't be his third, and he offered me an out, I just needed to take one more job for him, and he would pay out the rest of mom's bills, so that's what I did. I killed for the first time, and then I was free. I wouldn't have to do any of it again. Well, that's what I intended," he paused, his voice growing softer.
You tried to keep your face neutral as he revealed the horrors to you. Not that it mattered Hoseok couldn't even bring himself to look at you.
"Mom ended up passing that night." he laughed, a bitter sound that felt foreign to the kind man you knew, "I swear whatever cruel god is out there pulling all the strings did it to punish me. To let me know, they saw what I had become and that I didn't deserve to have people I love in my life. I wasn't good enough to feel love in this world,"
"Hobi, that's not-" he cut you off with a bitter laugh as he looked upwards to hold back his tears. The motion made him seem as though he was searching for the fates he mocked. "Don't y/n, I know what I am,"
"Dae was a senior when mom passed, and it absolutely broke her. I had to fight to get her to go to school for those last few months. Hell, it was a fight to get her out of bed for her graduation. Her exit exams were a disaster, and the councilors at the college were understanding, for the most part. They still admitted her to the school, but not a drop of financial aid was offered to her. She deserved so much more," Hobi's voice was laced with bitter disdain, his eyes looking far off.
"So I did everything I could to give it to her. I borrowed from Namjoon, enough to cover her entire admission at Alcorn University."
"Hobi, that's so much," you couldn't hold the comment in. It was near impossible for an ordinary person to buy their way into Alcorn if they didn't get scholarships, the tuition at the prestigious school was over $20,000 a semester for admission alone.
"And I did it, I had Jin make up a fake scholarship for her, send her a cute little letter telling her about the award. She thought that she earned a full ride, and I let her believe it. I even borrowed enough so she would stay in the dorms, I figured it would be safest to keep her out of the house. I didn't know what kind of jobs RM was going to have me do."
"I took the tattoo, and killing became more of a normal thing for me. It started to get easier, I kept my distance and tried my hardest to not even see their eyes.
There was a big turf war that year. I don't know, the city was on the brink of a recession, a lot of big players in the city were changing the rules of the game. Business owners fought to take down other businesses simply so theirs could stay open, the market was a disaster. I never cared about the politics of any of it, I just did what I was told, and because of that, I'm still not totally sure all I did that year. What lives I took. Who all I hurt. I did everything I could to forget those nights and the blood. I told myself I was doing it for a good reason, ya know.
I didn't want to know, I thought I would save that for the day I'm standing outside of hell, and they list off every single one of my evil deeds before they sentence their judgment." Hoseok's vacant eyes started to shine with tears.
"And that was the stupidest fucking thing I could have ever done. I had no clue who had it out for me, I had started feeling invincible. I didn't even consider that someone would want to take their revenge, I had killed Kim Martin Sr.'s son."
Your blood chilled at the name, and he didn't look at you as he continued.
"He was some big business owner or something, I was supposed to kill him, but there was a mix-up, and I got his son, Kim Martin Jr. instead. Whoever made the call decided that killing his son was just as effective because the grief practically destroyed him. A few misguided stock investments, while he was grieving, crashed his empire. He lost everything and had to move to the Westside in the aftermath.
Suga kept good tabs on the guy, but then he fell off the grid. We figured he left town or hell maybe he died. We didn't consider him a threat, he showed no interest in coming after BTS, so I didn't even think to keep an eye out for Dawon."
You felt hot tears roll down your face as you realized what happened. The media painted Martin as the bad guy. They accused him of losing his business after his son died due to extreme drug abuse. The city officials wrote him off as such a pathetic low life, that come the time of his death that his murder was barely investigated. It was simply declared a drug deal gone wrong. But he was a father, a father who lost everything to a hitman and wanted to return the favor.
Hoseok believed he didn't deserve love. Whatever higher power that was calling the shots took everything away from him as punishment.
You think of your best friend now long passed, her beautiful smile and contagious laugh. The way she could always read you and knew exactly what you needed, whether it be your favorite ice cream on your period or a trip to the botanical gardens in the middle of the night when she knew you were missing home a bit more than normal.
There was a loose glass in the greenhouse that hosted the plants native to your home. You would both scale the fence to the gardens late at night and push that glass panel in and carefully crawl into the greenhouse. The air would be filled with the floral scents you grew up with, and you would just walk the rows of plants and run your fingers over the velvet petals and waxy leaves.
Until Dawon would play music, a playlist the two of you made of songs in your native tongue. You would dance around the humid greenhouse singing on the top of your lungs while Dawon would laugh and clap along, excitedly shouting with you when she recognized a word or two.
You thought about the way you and Hoseok both carried a burden of guilt after she passed. Until now, you had felt like you failed her as a best friend and roommate.
For three years, you had tortured yourself with thoughts like if you hadn't procrastinated so much on your assignments that week, you would have been home when she decided to make a late snack run. You told yourself the robber probably wouldn't have stopped her if you were together. You reasoned that two of you would have deterred her as a target.
Or maybe he would have just shot you instead. Dawon would have recovered from the loss so much better, she had Hoseok to comfort her and family and friends to support her. You were merely an exchange student in a city with no morals, loved by no one, but taken in out of guilt by her brother. It would've been a better trade.
You tortured yourself with these thoughts day and night consumed with feelings similar to survivor's guilt.
You never understood Hoseok's guilt, until tonight, you felt like there was nothing he could have done to make that night play out differently. But now you realize he could have anything, and it might have made a difference.
"Y/n, I understand if you hate me," Hoseok said softly, watching the tears that dripped down your cheek as you processed everything he told you.
"I wanted to honor Dawon's wish. I didn't expect you to do so much for me, for you to become my best friend and for you to make me feel normal. I kept this from you because you were the closest thing to her I had left. There was a time where I thought I would distance myself from you when you moved out. That I would just become another hazy detail to the tragedy, and you would move on completely with your life, but y/n you were so sad, and you needed me too.
When you moved out, I was terrified of something happening to you. I couldn't stop myself from checking up on you. I couldn't let us grow apart." Hoseok's voice broke off as you looked at him, the pain and betrayal in your eyes.
"Y/n, you're the closest thing I have to redemption, protecting you, being your friend is the last thread of humanity I have left, I can't lose you," he pleaded.
"You watched me blame myself," you whispered accusingly, your eyes shining with betrayal.
"You watched me tear myself apart, and used comforting me to make you feel better about yourself?"
He flinched at your words, "I tried everything I could to convince you there was nothing you could have done," Hobi argued feebly.
"Everything but tell the truth," you hissed as hot tears rolled down your cheek.
You got up as a sob escaped you, your face red and snot running from your nose. Hoseok stood with you, but you flinched away with a broken no.
"I need time, Hoseok," you begged.
You swallowed thickly as you did everything in your power to keep it together, "I don't want to hate you, but please, I need time to think about everything," you assured. Even knowing what he did, he was right. You needed him too. If you lost him, you truly didn't have anyone in the city who cared if you lived or died tomorrow. And maybe settling for that made you your own kind of monster.
It was funny how he claimed such a tarnished person could be his redemption.
You secure your bag to your shoulder, stepping out into the night air and pulling the door closed behind you. You couldn't even bring yourself to lock the door behind you, afraid that if you stopped moving for one second that you would completely break down and be unable to make it home. You only hoped Hoseok was smart enough to check the door behind you and make sure to lock it.
You counted the stairs as you made your descent and into the parking lot, making an effort to take in your surroundings. You tried to list off the colors of the cars as you passed them, and while some distant part of you did the action, you still felt like the effort wasn't reaching whatever corner of your brain you were hiding in.
You got a lot better with controlling your anxiety attacks as you made it further in college, even going as far as taking advantage of the university's free therapy sessions to get professional guidance in your junior year. You defaulted to your go-to grounding technique as your feet moved of their own accord to carry you home. 5,4,3,2,1 was an exercise that made you aware of your surroundings and tether yourself to this world when your mind felt a dimension away.
The technique walked you through your five senses, making you list off 5 things you could see, 4 things you could feel, 3 things you could hear, two things you could smell, and one thing you could taste. Even in your most anxious moments, you were a slut for making a good list. You always found this exercise more soothing than any breathing technique.
Your eyes searched without really seeing as you tried to find five things you could see around you. Straining yourself to really take in your surroundings, you settled for a yellow fire hydrant, a car parked on the side of the road, a penny on the ground, a drainage inlet tucked into the curb, and finally your own yellow shoes pacing down the concrete sidewalk.
You were going to be okay, you reminded yourself as you took an intentional breath.
Next, four things you can touch, you focused on your breathing as you reached an arm out to graze your fingertips along with the rough brick of the building you walked by.
You shifted a little more with each step, concentrating on how the fabric of your clothes moved across your skin and curling your toes into the padding of your shoes. You didn't count each feeling, your wandering mind struggling to really take in each sensation, but you were sure you touched four things by now.
This was a mistake you often caught yourself making when counting down like this. Sometimes you were in such a rush to reach the end and get to one as if identifying one taste would magically make all your anxieties go away that you forget to take it slow and really center yourself.
Three things you can hear, it was at the time, as you strained to let the world in through the all-consuming pounding of your heart in your ears, that you realized you were whimpering to yourself slightly. The awareness of your own vulnerability made you stumble as your mind spiraled, and you struggled to find something to tether you back to the earth.
You began walking faster before realizing you're not certain you were going the right way. So you came to a halt, realizing you couldn't bring yourself to focus enough to take in your surroundings. You stared at the street sign for a long time, repeating the letters to yourself as you made them form a word finally settling on Gardenia.
Your breathing hitched as you realized you had wandered off the main streets and into a neighborhood in your daze. You were lost, but you couldn't bring yourself to care about it, and the lack of fear flashed an alarm in your mind that let you know you were too far gone to count away your anxieties.
You struggled to breathe as you tried to come up with a decision. You needed to ground yourself to calm down. You needed to list off 5 things you could see, fourth things you could feel, three things you could hear, two things you could smell, and one thing you could taste. You knew the only way to bring yourself back to the world was to become aware of your settings.
But it felt as if the part of your brain that knew all these things didn't even touch whatever part of your mind was controlling you now. You were better off giving directions to the light pole you stood under.
You felt your breathing get harder as you desperately gasped in all the air you could. Your arms and legs began to tingle as your body over oxidized, and your head began to spin.
Slowly you slumped to the ground, wrapping your arms around the light pole you had stopped under as you spiraled.
What were you even doing before this moment? How did you even get here? You forced your eyes open wide, hoping the action would make you actually see and register what you were looking at to no avail.
What were you doing, what were you doing, what were you doing?
You struggled to reign in your thoughts of your laughing best friend and her crying brother. Or was it your crying best friend and his dead sister?
You were supposed to find three things you could hear. Your crying doesn't count. A more logical voice seemed to get through to you.
You strained your ears to hear past your own breathing, you could hear a frog croaking in the grass nearby, you felt the earth beneath you to confirm you had in fact settled in a patch of grass. You smiled to yourself proud of your progress as you continued to listen as you continued to listen. You heard the electricity buzzing in the light pole you had wrapped your arms around, you felt almost childlike as you opened your eyes. Actually, seeing this time as you looked up at the pole, you were around.
You needed one more sound, you strained your ears, expecting to be met with something like a far off car driving by. Instead, you heard your name being called. You blinked as you turned away from the street lamp and towards the repeating sound of a familiar set of syllables coming from a familiar voice.
Jungkook jogged up to as he saw you curled around a lamppost. Even from a distance, he could see the rapid way your chest was rising and falling in that familiar chaotic rhythm he only saw when he found Taehyung or Yoongi having a panic attack. You looked up at him with a tear-stained face and saw the confusion of his presence take you off guard and snap whatever control you had over yourself.
Your face crumpled as a sob broke from your chest, and you turned away from him and curled yourself around the light pole a little tighter.
Jungkook felt such a rush of guilt and panic at the sight of you so broken that he ignored the dull ache in his knees as he instinctively fell down in the grass next to you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you from the cold metal pole, trying to position comfortably in his chest.
Jungkook shifted as he uncurled his legs from beneath his body and stretched them out next to yours in front of him, trying to touch as much of his body to you in comfort. You didn't resist, but the jolting motions did seem to make you more upset for a short moment. Jungkook realized he forgot to ask for permission to touch you before he acted.
He knew Tae preferred physical comfort to calm down, but sometimes it could act more as a trigger when unwelcomed. He loosened his grip hesitantly, and you wrapped your arms around his middle, hugging him closer to you in response.
Physical contact is. He thought to himself as he began stroking one hand up and down your back and rocking you both side to side slightly as if he was trying to calm a baby from a tantrum.
Which he basically was doing, you thought bitterly to yourself as you accepted the comfort.
You were too far gone to calm yourself down. You had ridden the river of upsetting thoughts that triggered your attack all the way down, and now you risked floating out to sea and losing yourself forever. Not actually forever, just until you would cry yourself unconscious and wake up to start anew. But you supposed accepting comfort was better than sleeping outside in a neighborhood you didn't know.
Jungkook whispered to you, not the sweet nothings people typically say when they see people break down like 'it's going to be okay,' or most annoyingly 'breath.' No Jungkook simply told you, 'you're safe,' 'take your time,' 'you're stronger than you give yourself credit for' and in your case most importantly, 'exhale.'
When people see you having a panic attack and hear the loud gasp you make as you fight to breathe, they instinctively tell you to breathe as a way to calm down. But it's your failure to let the air out that keeps your body over oxidized, making it harder for you to feel in control of yourself.
Slowly, you regained control of your body, and your desperate gasps for air morphed into shallow panting. Your shallow breathing morphed into soft whimpers and sniffled. Jungkook held you as your continuous knit itself together, and you faced the pain your mind was so desperate to escape.
He rubbed you back as you let out soft sobs as you reopened wounds that had healed into jagged scars. You cried for Dawon and her undeserved death. For Hoseok and the guilt you knew, he carried every day. You cried for Kim Martin, who died at the hands of the killer that stole his son. You cried for yourself, over the fear of the future as you saw it grow intimately tangled with a notorious gang.
You don't know how long Jungkook waited as you reeled yourself back together. He waited long after you finished crying, knowing just because you had control of yourself physically didn't mean you were mentally ready to face the world, so he wrapped you in his warmth and hummed to himself as he rocked you both slowly.
You loosened and tightened your grip on his shirt and curled and uncurled your toes as you tried to become more aware of your body. You were basically sprawled out on the grass with your upper body twisted and pulled into Jungkook's middle. It wasn't the most comfortable position, but you weren't willing to risk losing his warmth to move.
You licked your lips, and the jarring taste of your salty tears pulled you from your self pitying thoughts, deciding to work your way up the list you once again started to count.
One thing you taste, salt.
Two things you smell: you inhaled deeply and took in the smell of laundry detergent that clung to Jungkkook's shirt. "Detergent," you mumbled into his shirt, and the sound of a coherent word leaving you made Jungkook's humming stop as he looked down at you, nuzzling your face deeper into his chest. He held in his chuckle as you stiffed the air again, and confidently said, "and grass."
You finally pulled yourself away from him only slightly to turn your face away from him, your cheek still pressed against his chest.
"I can hear frogs, cars nearby, and.. your heart," you listed as you looked up at him from under you thick lashes still clumped with tears, "it's louder than mine," you observed as you listened to the hammering in his chest.
He was from a different kind of nerves.
He recognized the countdown and realized you were working to ground yourself, "What can you feel?" he prompted eager to get you to move on from his pounding heart.
"Your t-shirt, it's soft, the grass poking at me through my jeans, my bra digging into me" you wrinkled your nose as you became aware of the discomfort.
"And?" Jungkook prompted. A smile curled your lips as you looked up at him mischievously, "You're abs," you giggled as you sat up, finally pulling away from him. Jungkook felt the heat crawl up his neck as he turned away, rubbing the back of his neck bashfully.
"And what do you see?" he asked gently, looking everywhere but you.
You smiled at his bashfulness as you look around, "I see the street sign, the green grass," you pause as you squint, "I think that's either a rock or some dog poop over there," Jungkook let out a startled laugh. You smiled to yourself proudly as you continued.
"Our shadows from the street light, and,” you pause realizing how close the two of you are, "the little mole underneath your lip."
"Good," he whispered, and you watched in fascination how his lips formed the words, "Are you ready to get up now, or do you need a few minutes?" he asked. It was the way his mouth twisted into a smile at the end of the sentence that made you realize you were still staring at his lips. You blinked before looking up at his eyes, which was alight with a teasing glint.
"I can stand," you answered, flustered as you pulled your body away from him. Maneuvering your feet beneath you to get up. Jungkook offered you a hand once he was up helping pull you to your feet, before bending down and grabbing your purse for you. Your feet still tingled in that pins and needles feeling. You wiggled your hands to wake up your fingers as well, but other than that, you felt like you recovered from the physical toll of the panic attack quite well.
"C'mon my place is at the end of this road, let me grab a car and drive you home," he offered.
You walked with him obediently, your hands brushing past each other twice before Jungkook's hand finally snatched yours mid-swing; you looked down and watched as your fingers intertwined with his effortlessly. You looked to him to see a change in his expression, but he looked straight ahead as he walked, acting as if nothing happened.
You smiled at yourself, thankful for the affection. You always did get a little clingy after panic attacks, relying heavily on skinship and the feeling of someone taking care of you as a way to feel calm. You were surprised how easy it was for you to let Jungkook fall into that roll despite barely knowing him. But you suppose in the handful of interactions the two of you shared, he's always prioritized your comfort and safety.
"This is your house?" you asked as you took in the massive white art deco house behind the gate you stopped in front of. The gate buzzed and rolled open for the two of you of its own accord and rolled open for the two of you.
Jungkook smiled sheepishly as he rubbed the back of his neck, "Yeah, kinda," he said with a shrug.
You raised a brow, "kinda?"
"It's complicated, c'mon let's get you home," he said with a tug reminding you that the two of you were still holding hands. You flushed but followed obediently as you made your way to the garage.
You squinted as your eyes were met with a flood of fluorescent light upon opening the door. A row of vehicles lined its way down the length of the garage, varying from sports car, to jeep, to a large black truck at the end of the row. A line of 4 motorcycles along the furthest wall.
"J-Hope sells Namjoon a car any chance he gets," Jungkook chuckled as he took in your awed expression.
"J-Hope?" you questions, and Jungkook's smile faltered.
"That's what we call Hoseok," he clarified.
You nodded in understanding, "Like how Taehyung goes by V?" you asked, and he nodded.
"Hoseok, does he sell drugs like V does?" you asked curious of what all Hoseok's gang involvement entailed.
Jungkook opened his mouth to answer but was cut off as the adjacent door slammed up from what looked to be inside the house, revealing a man in a black t-shirt with a mop of platinum blond hair.
"There you are," he practically growled as he stormed in the room.
The man was dwarfed by Jungkook a good bit, but somehow Jungkook seemed to cower and appear smaller as the man approached, dropping your hand as if he were caught doing something he shouldn't.
You looked at him curiously and wondered if he was.
"Yoongi hyung," he greeted as he tried to force a smile, "I was just about to-"
"Save it," he snapped, "I have half the army out looking for you, ya know," he turned his fury to you much to your surprise as he added "both of you."
Your mouth fell open, shocked by the confusion apparent on your face as he continued, "Do I need to babysit both of you, because believe it or not, she's taking up a lot of my time. I really can't handle you getting flakey on me Jungkook, we need to know that you're safe,"
Jungkook looked down as he lectured, murmuring a small apology.
"And you" Yoongi turned to you, "That goes for you too, the Black Tips are still on your tail, I can't do much for you if you go running off,"
"Hyung," Jungkook hissed. "Not now, please."
Yoongi blinked at his younger in surprise, turning to you and making a point to really look at you, and take you in. Your red-rimmed eyes and splotchy face, the way you seemed to lean into Jungkook. He recognized that far off look in your eyes like you had to concentrate on being present in the moment, and Yoongi remembered the warning in Hoseok's earlier message when he told him you had run out.
"Yeah, okay, get her home and come straight back when you're done, we still need to talk," he said dismissively. None of your questions were answered, but you didn't resist as Jungkook put a hand on your back and guided you towards a nearby car.
"Good night, princess," Yoongi called over his shoulder before closing the door behind him. Unlike with Jimin, you felt like you were being mocked when Yoongi called you that.
"Who was that, your brother, and why did he say he needs to babysit me?" you questioned as you both settled into the fine black vehicle the windows were so deeply tinted on the outside you wondered if it was safe to drive at night, but upon getting in the car, you noted that you could see through the windows clearly.
Jungkook waited until after he put the key in the ignition and backed out into the driveway before he started talking."That's Yoongi hyung or Suga, he's head of surveillance for BTS. He was the one who sent out a message to go escort you home when J– Hobi Hyung told him you were upset and left his apartment so late. I was on my way in that direction when I ran across you on our street," he said, breaking at a stop sign and turning on the blinker.
You looked out the window as you took in everything he's told you, noting that you were stopped again by the light pole you had a panic attack under. Suga was one of the original members in Hoseok's story. You thought to yourself as you connected the dots. Your head still felt a little foggy as you recovered from the literal mental breakdown. The sudden change of lighting earlier had started to make your head throb. You were ready for bed.
"Hobi sent people to look for me?" was all you could manage, not entirely understanding the emotions stirring in your chest.
"Well yeah, I mean, I was supposed to escort you home after work, and you kind changed plans, so we had to roll with them. I figured Hoseok would have taken you home after everything, so I didn't wait around. And then when Suga did send out the message I didn't notify them that I found you it was dumb on my part," he clarified.
You leaned onto the console between the two of you, propping your cheek upon your hand in a way that squished your lips into a slight pout. Jungkook tried not to stiffen as you got more in his space. Peeking down at you through his peripherals he saw your brow furrow as you processed everything.
"Why do you care?" you finally settled on asking as you still struggled to pinpoint why so many people would be worried about your safety.
Hoseok, you understood, to a certain extent, you even understood why he called in the favor. He knew your patterns and signs, you were probably shouting you were about to have an attack with your body language as you walked out the door. He knew he could never comfort you, not when he was the trigger. What you didn't understand was why BTS would listen.
"Because you're still not safe, and BTS took responsibility for your safety when I did," Jungkook said, simply turning to look at you as he stopped at a red light.
If you were in the right state of mind, such a comment would have triggered an immediate fight. You had been on your own for far too many years to suddenly need a whole gaggle of men to tend to you as if you were some helpless girl. You were a grown-ass woman. But you weren't yourself as you searched for a response in the fog of your mind.
"You're not responsible for anything about me?" you said softly as you shifted to rest your hand on your chin.
"Y/n what all did Hoseok hyung tell you?" Jungkook asked, confused, you weren't rejecting his protection, you just seemed oblivious. He assumed the cat was out of the back as soon as you learned what BTS was, who they were concerning you.
"Just how he joined BTS as how he ya know," you stuck your pointer finger and thumb in the air making soft 'pew pew' sounds. You couldn't bring yourself to talk seriously about the subject. Too much of this night had been severe for your liking.
"Y/n, you saved my life last week," Jungkook said, trying to look in your eyes and convey all his gratitude. You shifted under his stare.
"I wouldn't call it that," you murmured, turning away, "The lights green," you added flatly trying to turn his attention from you. He ignored you and placed a warm hand over yours.
"I would, and because of that, I and all of BTS owe you a life debt. We want to protect you as best as we can, especially since you're not totally safe from the guys you saved me from," he emphasized.
You looked up at him owlishly as you thought over everything he said. But whatever you were going to say died on your lips as a car honked its horn behind you. You both jumped startled, and the intensity of the moment evaporated slightly.
After a few moments of silence, you decided he didn't require a response. You can't imagine you would give a correct one anyways. You looked down at your hand, his larger one still resting atop your own and turned your wrist quickly and intertwining your fingers.
You rode in silence the rest of the way home, and you were fighting your eyelids as you pulled up to your complex.
Jungkook wondered if you always fell asleep in the car even with dangerous men. He wondered if that's why he never sees you take the bus at night.
"You really should consider living somewhere safer," Jungkook muttered under his breath as he shut off the engine.
You bit your tongue holding in several comments and gave a noncommittal 'mmm' as you unbuckled and stepped out the car to see he planned to walk you to your door again.
You grew embarrassed as you climbed the stairs and scrambled to think of parting words dwelling on everything Jungkook had done for you that night, "Thank you," you finally forced yourself to say. Jungkook looked down at you as you came to a halt in front of your door. "For earlier, with the crying and the counting," you offered awkwardly your eyes looking everywhere but his as you breached the sensitive topic.
"Oh, it wasn't a problem, really. I'm glad I could help" he laughed nervously, and you smiled, reaching for his hand before he could bring it to the back of his head, a nervous habit you were quickly picking up on him having.
"I'm serious Jungkook, a lot of people freak out and make the situation much worse for me, and I get it seeing someone crying like that it's never an easy thing to react to, but you did—" you hesitated as you searched for the right words, "You were good, comforting."
You didn't give yourself time to question it as you stood on your tiptoes, deciding to convey your gratitude in a way that your stuttering mouth wouldn't botch, and grazed a small peck aiming for his cheek. Unfortunately, the height difference and your own lack of balance had you landing more on his jawline. Jungkook gasped only slightly at the feeling of your soft lips on his jaw, the heat of your body radiating off of you in your nearness. You smiled at him again as you turned towards the door to unlock it.
"Haha yeah, happy to hear that," he responded, his voice crawling in pitch as he ordered his heart to beat, and you gave him another warm smile as you pushed open your door.
"Good night, Jungkook."
"Good night, Ella."
Jungkook's face split into a grin as you closed the door, a hand reaching for his jaw and pressing against where you kissed him as if it would simulate the feeling. His steps seemed to bounce as he made his way down the concrete stairs and back to his car.
A/N: Thanks so much for reading please tell me what you think! Your comments make me eager to write more :)
Pt.5 ->
#bts fic#jungkook x reader#bts mafia au#btsghostie#bangtanhq#btsbookclub#btsguild#bangtanscenery#bts gang au#gangster jungkook#gangster yoongi#gangaster taehyung#gangster hoseok#jungkook au#bestfriend hoseok#no harm list#crazy4myself fic#drug dealer teahyung#jungkook fluff
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Kaliyah | Part One
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Prologue
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This world wasn't always so quiet and petty.
Years and years ago while other clans fled
to claim victories and land, one particular clan basked in the brighter sides of living. While the
rest of the clans made stories and sang songs of great battles fought, this clan would always remain apart and would be the highlight of those tales. Scarcely seen in open battle but horribly fierce, they were the Free Ones, the Noble. Never swearing fealty to anyone besides themselves and their Clan, protecting their freedom and safety at any cost necessary. Their resilience was always an admirable trait.
And their alliance was things clans prayed for and cherished, for their allies were treated as their own kin and were under great protection.
The Sen-Ryokō were once separated into three branches, with no significant differences between them but they still segregated themselves into those three, small families. It wasn't until the time of need that the three branches united into one big Clan. The reason being the awful war itself with the neighboring clans. Seeing as they were parted from each other and so small, the enemies saw an easy target and easy-win battle. But they wouldn't be so easily swayed and the battles their enemies sought would not be pleasant. The Clan laid on fertile soil, windswept hills on one side, barely any high growing plants, and high, mountain giants close on the south side. The place was prosperous in every way possible so it was no wonder they were always made targets of.
Although few in number, the Sen-Ryoko were cunning and witty people, a trait that would go to define them; they led the foes into a trap in the mountains where they met them with an onslaught of attacks and lastly, burying them all under a heavy rain of rock slides to seal their fates. From that point onward, the clan resumed their normal flow of things returning to the ruined hills and fields, rebuilding their lives once more. Besides their wits, they were known as great travelers and merchants, information gatherers and trackers.
But the great tales of old speak of another admirable fact about them. Mastering the beasts no other could. While a horse grants one the dominion over land, a ship over sea… a dragon grants the sky, and everything underneath it. The few Sen-Ryokō that did have a dragon as their summon held a special bond to the flying creatures, inseparable from the moment they fulfilled the contract. The history is vague about how they formed the contract, seeing as this kind of contract differs slightly from the regular ones. As well as history itself is everywhere due to their constant travels, each story speaks of it's own way.
A dragon may leave their summoner whenever they please for whatever reason they see fit; the dragon will not serve the ones with the ill of heart, nor the one thirsty for power and its wealth. A dragon grows alongside their summoner, they essentially feed off of each other's chakra and grow stronger in turn. Just as the clan members themselves, their dragons were as fierce, resistant and free. No one dared to step in their way once they heard of such great beasts siding with the small clan "clan under the mountains". As times did pass however, with dragons being less and less common and fewer in number, their legendary stories and victories now became myths. Instead of dragons, others framed Sen-Ryokō as liars, calling their dragons nothing but overgrown birds.
And finally, when the last dragon took its final rest, the Sen-Ryokō was occupied and sent scattering, separating once again with many killed in battle. The dragons that once stood firm at their sides were now seen as nothing but myths and legends, after the last dragon died unexpectedly and left them for fate to take them, the dragon tales became something to be frowned upon. Many still harboured the love for the great beasts, trusting that their powerful spirits remained with them. But one was for sure. The glory days of the Sen-Ryokō...and the dawn of Dragons was no more..
Childhood
Hundred years later, in the midst of the Warring States, the birth of a child brought some light into the family. Being born second in her fathers second marriage, Kaliyah Genji was the highlight to her parents for the years to come. Her father's prior marriage was quick to fall apart with the death of his first wife, their son now living with Kaliyah's grandmother and only two years her senior. Kaliyah didn't see much of him in her youth, only on more special occasions that required both of them to be there or on the training fields where they'd play swords. The early memories of him are vague but Kaliyah remembers Botan being very short on patience and quick to throw a tantrum, but still he knew how to be polite when he had to be. Towards her he was quite resentful, especially when their father chose to take her under his wing and introduce her to the family business and affairs, thus leaving Botan aside.
In her early years Kaliyah was known to be quite an adventurous kid, she would often roam the fields and young woods around the compound despite the dangers of war which she was yet to understand. It wasn't rare for her to bring home things found on the road; plants, old coins, rocks, bones, and many things alike were a part of her trinket collections. On some occasions she would also bring injured animals, mostly birds, that she would try and tend to. Unfortunately these animals would often die, having been already at the brink of death when she found them and beyond the reach of healing, and their deaths did hold weight over the girl who would later bury them in the place she found them, rocks and pebbles adorning their graves. Due to this she was generally thought of as a gentle soul, sensitive even at times; and would later also prove to be lacking in medical ninjutsu. Some would admire this kind trait and others would frown upon it, mainly her father who described it as being weak and overly emotional, and there was no space for such strong emotions here.
Three, almost four, years after her birth, the Genji family got another addition. Little Utiss. Kaliyah was indifferent to her younger sibling in the beginning, due to duties at hand she didn't get much time to spare for her sister, but they would often take walks together and Kaliyah would tutor Utiss when she could, still giving her best at being a good older sister. Be it teaching her about the history of the clans or more important things that can occur in everyday life. The younger sister was open to these teachings, a slow but a good learner, although sometimes not valuing some things as much as she should have. Upon introducing her to their older brother, Botan would take quite a dislikement to Utiss and she would reflect that right back at him.
Kaliyah and her father would soon start to spend more and more time together, a butterfly effect taking place when Kaliyah merely helped her father out on a small errand that essentially saved his life and warned him of approaching enemies, to become one of his apprentices on the field.
Kaliyah took to her father's lessons like duck to water, learning swiftly with time and was starting to take her fathers side more and more often. Due to the raging wars and due to her fathers status, Kaliyah was soon starting to become a target for the Clan's foes, seeing as she was very young and vulnerable like any other child. Atsuko, Kaliyah's mother, was growing worried by the day for both of her children. With the situation at home being bad as it was, she complained to her husband, Hachirou, urging him to do something, anything, to protect their children. Hachirou soon took off to travel across the lands for a meeting with another clan in hopes of making allies after the heated argument. This left eight year old Kaliyah with her mother and four year old Utiss, with her fathers mother there to watch over them.
The old Nan did nothing but disrupt them whenever possible, mainly aiming her abuse and accusations at her mother. Kaliyah did try to stand between them more often than not, but it was always to no avail as the nan would resolve to physical violence to get her out of the way. This led Kaliyah to just flee from the house during those times, ashamed to raise her own hand against an elder, usually taking Utiss with her as well to save her from the vulgarity of the situation. It was only once later in the years when Kaliyah actually raised her hand against the old woman and that was when Utiss had gotten physically harmed by her. Her mother would go on to reveal the reason of the old nans hate, the simple reason being that the two clans they were from did not get along well in the past. Specifically referring to a battle between the Sen-Ryokō and the Genji hundred years ago. Even if Atsuko loved her husband greatly she knew her marriage to him was nothing but a treaty offer so that the Genji stop their hunting and attacks on the Sen-Ryokō.
Upon asking more about the Sen-Ryokō her mother always shushed her, saying it was for the best if their cultures remained unknown to her, for her safety. Stubbornly Kaliyah pushed to know something. What was so important, what happened that was so great that pushed the Genji to despise the other? Why was it so dangerous for her to know more about her heritage? Her mother revealed only a handful of things, coating them with evil words and tone in hopes to make Kaliyah hate the Sen-Ryokō as well, maybe then she would stop asking about them. Atsuko told her daughter just how awful they were, using their beasts to inflict fear into others and how they carried many into death over their steep cliffs. It all sounded the same like the horrific stories of her grandmother. Old Nan was right, her mother told her, for the hostility she showed them. The Nan's ancestors and friends were all burned to ash and killed just because of the Sen-Ryokō. Atsuko was on the verge of tears with each lie she made up, with each hint of surprise that came to her daughter's face. And at the end, she sealed the conversation with a hint of threat, Kaliyah must never know of them. Hoping to shield her that way. Her mother tried to remain compassionate and sweet to her child, but after all the neglect she has shown to her curiosity and spare time and all the things she said, she wasn't overly surprised when Kaliyah began to withdraw slowly.
This hostility didn't stop even after her father's return. The nan stayed and continued on with her abuse, feeding her hatred for the Sen-Ryokō and letting her hostility onto the three. The two sisters weren't even safe in their own rooms at night, at which they would start to spend the nights with their mother. When confronted about it, the nan would simply shrug it off, not even attempting to deny her actions in the end. But Hachirou still did nothing, having been raised with the same beliefs of the Clans by her when he was young, although he did not harbour the hate into his adulthood. And no matter how much he promised that he loved Atsuko, he wouldn't go against his mother. He let her stay at their home. Even Utiss would mumble a word of complaint from time to time, frustrated and scared.
With the growing and never ending hostility at home, Kaliyah spent more and more time outdoors. At the time, the rumors her grandmother had started to spread didn't hit popularity yet. Kaliyah wasn't a person of any high status then. Yes she may have been a daughter of a powerful shinobi, but the rumors spread around flew over people's heads, for they saw Kaliyah as nothing but gentle and kind and incapable of any evil. The little girl grew closer to the community and the people around her. Making friends with anyone she found of interest, just as long as she didn't have to go home. Kaliyah would often stay late outside, sitting at a corner of the road where an old man Haru would sit and tell stories to neighboring kids from time to time. He would often speak of the long summers and his many adventures, the troubles he got in his youth and many beasts that he encountered on his road. Even in his old age he was quite active, but easily exhausted.
He would often give sweets to Kaliyah and the other kids. The stories he told were a stark contrast to the evil, presumably true, tales the Old Nan would tell her, which would often strike anxiety in her. It wasn't rare that she would find herself in a situation where she would be paranoid, imagining one of the great beasts or evil people stalking her from their hiding. The Old Nan would even use these stories to get Kaliyah to do certain things. Even Botan used these stories to his advantage on a few occasions. The old stories of Haru were encouraging, filled with some great advice if one just listened well, and in comparison to fairytales of the Old Nan, Kaliyah believed these to be the real stories and would soon start to feel a bit at ease, no trusting in the old folk tales any longer. It would get her in trouble as she would stay out late but she did not feel guilty, her mother understood that too.
The more she spent outside, the more she got closer to the people and in turn learned of everyone's struggles. So much death and violence was raging, haunting the people of the town. It greatly saddened and scared Kaliyah, filling her with some sense of dread and helplessness. She was still a young girl, she couldn't do anything but watch for the time being, feeling ashamed at times if she were to bring it up to her father as he already expressed his thoughts on her desire to help the ones she clearly couldn't.
On one of her first travels with her father-mentor, she witnessed first hand the expanse all the violence went to, just how many suffered in these wars. It was a journey to a neighboring Kamada clan with which her father had to make amends due to previous miscommunications that ended in a short lived battle. The clan's leader, and elder, wasn't so keen on smoothing over the bridges they burned with the Genji, being very clear with what he thought of Hachirous rule over his people and how he led them blindly. How he believed the Genji were conspiring to steal his lands and slowly push his clan into extinction. Word soon reached them that they were preparing for another rebellion against them now that Hachirou and one of his heirs were on their lands, wanting to reclaim all that they were supposedly robbed off in the past by the Genji. With their great ninken and many people gathered up, it was clear to Hachirou that there was no diplomatic solution. He showed Kaliyah for the first time how things are not always nice, how she can't help everyone and how she must be careful with these kinds of people, who she can and can't trust.
The opposing clan's rising rebellion was quickly snuffed out with the leader losing his life before the young girl. Anyone else who remained alive was sent into exile with their land now belonging to the Genji, and the wars between other clans still raged wild. No one was doing much to stop them either, everyone waging their own battles and caring only about their own greed and safety. It only pushed Kaliyah more to pursue the ranks that her fathers business could grant her, to try and help out in any way she could, although now she had a different outlook on life. Thinking that when she became of proper rank and age, she could help bring some protection to the people at the very least. Her work doubled and now she barely spent time at home; guilt would chase her for that, knowing her sister and mother were under relentless abuse from the old nan. If possible, she would visit them through the day, but later with her mothers growing distress Kaliyah stopped her daily visits. Even her own mother started to shame her for certain things, saying how she was becoming just like her father in her eyes, and would now only cling onto Utiss, not letting her out of her sight.
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_______
New Hope
•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•
Her mother's growing neglect and her father's emotional absence did weigh Kaliyah down for a period of time, but with the growing duties and tasks as well as many travels she was sent on, she pushed it all to the back of her mind. The choices taken and all the work did harden Kaliyah's heart. Towards the fourth year of being under her fathers guidance and having witnessed many other clans and battlefields, Kaliyah was slowly starting to become a target for her fathers foes. Seeing that she was vulnerable but very knowledgeable, she was the weak link.
Hachirou was no fool either and now especially seeing how much knowledge ended up reaching Kaliyah and just how many secrets too, he took action to lend some protection over his first daughter. He had grown hope in her skill and knowledge and his love for her still grew stronger in his heart. A man named Iwao became her guard, and sensei in the art of taijutsu and ninjutsu. No one knew much of Iwao or how he came to be, when he came first into their village and compound he was the greatest talk among the common folk, and he would soon go to impress many as well as he took the mantle of protecting the head of the clan. He first served Botan and his mother, after the mothers death and upon Hachirous order, Iwao stepped aside. He was a gruff man, quiet but also very careful when it came to taking care of young Kaliyah. The only issue being that now, with rising threats, Kaliyah had almost no privacy and always had him behind her shoulder, watching over her like a hawk.
In his teachings he was quick and stern but knew how to lend his assistance if his student was falling behind on certain lessons. Iwao knew her limits and would ever so often push at them in ways that wouldn't result in harm but rather provoke success. A man of few words but many actions, the sensei-student duo would start to bond over time, even if it still remained at the superficial level they grew to trust each other. Iwao taught Kaliyah the ways of the blade, soon after he would find out her expertise with the Wind release. She was showing great potential in both taijutsu and ninjutsu as well as strategy and planning. Showing great traits of a natural born leader she would be quick to accelerate in her studies and training.
The jutsus that Kaliyah learned would greatly come to overpower Iwaos lighting release, but would cancel out in his fire releases in which Kaliyah would have to find other ways to claim victory over her sensei. In the first year Iwao had to enforce many rules and shrink their field in which they fought due to the constant dodging on Kaliyah's half. She moved like the wind itself, very quick on her feet and agile like an eel. But soon later she would become more confident in these skills and take a great liking to the martial arts. Now it was always a game of push and pull until either one yielded or won.
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________
The Senju
•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•
As she approached the years before her teens, Kaliyah was officially sent on an assignment of her own, the journey would take long. The task at hand being to deliver a message to the clan head of the infamous Senju Clan. The letter contained the handwriting of her father, sealed with the sigil of the Genji clan. It was given into Kaliyahs hands to protect and deliver, although a copy was secretly given to Iwao in the worst case scenario. The two travelled on their own, as two people could travel just as fast as one, and it would be much easier to move undetected through the lands. Most of their journey was on horseback. Kaliyah was ecstatic, optimistic for a good portion of the way, Iwao noted, but he also noted her will and great composure. Something he also saw once in Hachirou and Botan years ago. The journey took a turn when they were almost assassinated by ninja of an unknown Clan. The assailants wore no sigils or anything that would define and give away where they could have come from. Kaliyah was the first one to take notice of the enemy chakra, a surprise to Iwao who believed that Kaliyah didn't have any sensory abilities at all. Thanks to the collaborative jutsu of Iwao's strong fire release and Kaliyah's wind release did they defeat the enemy. The scuffle did leave Iwao injured, a kunai having sliced at his leg and right forearm, meanwhile Kaliyah was able to dodge most of the attacks and only get away with scuffs and bruises from when she was thrown off her horse.
Still they managed to make their way to the Senju compound unbothered by any other attacks. For the rest of their journey Iwao had started to ramble to Kaliyah about the Senju, and their ties with the Genji. He told her of how Hachirous' father had done a great deed once, helped the Senju with reclaiming a part of their land and even saved the head of the clan from certain death in one of the battles. Upon their arrival, Iwao let the young girl lead the conversation, relying his trust in her and making this a test of everything she had learned already. She held her own adroitly. His figure would loom over hers even on horseback, watching her with careful onyx eyes that hid pride behind a curtain of coolness and professionalism. The meeting was quick, although what Hachirou had asked of Butsuma Senju had to be considered before a decision was made, so their stay was prolonged. Genji wasn't the most active ally of the Senju but they have never disappointed or given any doubt, collaborating with them on several occasions for a shared goal. While they stayed, Iwao's wounds did fester suddenly and feverishly. The kunai that inflicted the wounds turned out to be coated in strong poison. The Senju were generous enough to lend him medical aid, and offer them both a safe place to stay. Iwao would often talk in his dazed state, mumbling under his breath or even leading a full conversation with someone unseen in the room when his fever was at its peak. Now, without her trusted sensei she was trusted to lead all affairs on her own accord. Being in a lands new to her and at risk of attack, she would be quite strained.
Thankfully by the end of the week, Iwao did make a full recovery from the poison and his wounds. Thanking the Senju leader profusely, the duo finally took their leave with a Senju medic accompanying them on their journey back. The medical nin was planned to stay in their compound and take a few students to teach them medical ninjutsu, as the Genji only had one good medic in their clan left. Kaliyah was happy to speak to the medic on their way back, asking about the many scrolls she brought with her and listening intently on what she had to say. Kaliyah felt a lot more comfortable outside her own clan's territories, being much more social too. Hachirou, upon hearing his daughters report, was happy with the newly secured bond between the Senju and the Genji, as well as the medical-nin that was sent to aid them. It was the first time Kaliyah saw her father be genuinely happy with her doings. The teaching of new medics started immediately the following month.
But what else awaited her at her clan was the sudden spread of vile rumors about her, where this time the people believed them. What her father gave her with his happiness and compliments, the demeanor of the rest made for negativity and that overshadowed the positive mood of the young girl. The other children she used to play with would now be pulled away by their parents whenever they saw Kaliyah coming. And the older folk she used to talk to never seemed interested in starting a conversation with her anymore. It confused Kaliyah more than anything, what kind of thing was told about her that made even the old man Haru spend less time telling stories and avoiding contact with her. The mystery of this would be revealed by no other than her younger sister, who also was going to partake in studying the medical-ninjutsu, that the rumor was started by the Old Nan and possibly spread by Botan as well.
It was told that she brought shame to the clan on their latest journey, how she ruined every tie with the allies they had beforehand, who in truth were lost to the opposing clans' treachery and greed and on her fathers command, not hers. She didn't even have that sort of power and rank yet. These were not even the worst of it all, as Kaliyah knew them to be lies. What really struck Kaliyah was the supposed rumor that her own father was planning on resigning her and planning to betroth her to someone unknown to her, to strengthen a bond with yet another clan. That would mean effectively getting rid of her from his work and removing her free will. Like a salt on the wound and what Kaliyah took to be true, Hachirou made her take a break from her duties, commanding her to instead return to her own hobbies and whatever she would have liked. A break that would last for an unknown period of time; Kaliyah was certain this was the end of things for her.
Later one late evening, Kaliyah retreated into the woods she didn't visit for the more than four years she had been made an apprentice. An old cottage house that stood under a great canopy of tall and old trees still remained there, enveloped by pale ivies and great shrubs that climbed all the way to the roof and grew even on the inside. It was a remote place, quiet and very far away from the center clan grounds, far away from the jests and rumors. It was the place where she managed to nurture a cherry tree on the side of the house that now grew far above her head, the branches filled with unopened blossoms. She hid in one of the rooms that was engulfed in darkness, sunlight unable to come through the thick ivy. Iwao had managed to find her the next evening, when she had let out her sorrows into the night. When all misery evaporated, leaving behind a lack of any sensation.
"Little bird.." Iwao called to her, for a moment afraid when he noticed her unmoving figure in the dark. Kaliyah did not respond to him, having no strength to voice any of her thoughts. Instead her glossed eyes found his, before she averted her eyes and only padded her way onto the porch of the little house where the two sat down, knowing Iwao wouldn't let go of this that easily. Kaliyah didn't want him schooling her, she hated being looked down on in any way, and at first sense of it when he spoke her expression turned sour, anger churning in her, but she didn't act on it in the end.
No matter how much her frown dug itself into her features, no matter how much Iwao spoke to her. She grit her teeth and remained silent. In the end her sensei ended up talking about an old story, a story from his childhood. Surprisingly so, it definitely took Kaliyah off guard seeing how he rarely spoke of himself in the past. He was the greatest mystery. He told her of how terrible he was as a child in terms of temper, an orphan boy in a small clan that could hardly tolerate him at times. He made mistakes of trusting certain people, who spread horrible rumors about him which turned him quite resentful. Even going as far as considering taking some sort of revenge for making the whole village hate him. He was just as adventurous as she was,he told her, often traveling way beyond the borders and into the wilderness on his own. That was until the absolute destruction of the place he called home. He returned to the sounds of thunder and screams of agony with the whole village set ablaze. From there he became very vague, he was taken by someone but he managed to escape and started to jump town to town in search of hope. And he found hope when he met her father.
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______
Calm before the storm
•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•
The state of the small but growing Clan was starting to worsen. Many more fell victim of the ways of war and many more were injured on the battlefield. Once a powerful and noble clan now became a vulnerable target. They started to fight day and night, pushing the enemies off their grounds and trying to keep them away; there was no more diplomacy. Hachirou was now all about the battles, violence, and even he attended the many battles around his home. Atsuko was now always in her room, often with Utiss when her daughter was free of studies. The tangible tension in the household was now at its peak. There was no more trust and no more kindness that once was there. No more love. Only hatred and suspicions.
Kaliyah still remained quiet, her voice of reason overthrown by her father's sudden evil and his siding with his mother. The young girl opted to sneak away and spend her nights in that cottage after everyone else fell into slumber. That is also where she would often meet with her sensei who tried making the times easier for her by bringing paper made birds or pulling the tricks in sparring that she once found amusing and laughable. Iwao himself was growing uneasy with the familial situation, having raised Botan in the same fashion he did Kaliyah until he was made to step back from active duty. Only Botan took on a more damaging nature as he grew. Iwao understood what Kaliyah represented to Botan, it was unmistakable. To Botan she was nothing but a threat and a rival. Seeing just how much Kaliyah naturally did better at the business their father gave them, how much more thoughtful she was and eager to help; it was only a matter of time until Botan stood against her.
A sudden illness struck her father and got him bedridden. It was during his time at a battlefield far from their home and by the time they got him to a proper medic he was already slipping past their fingers. The medic did as much as she could, Utiss helping her make remedies in hopes of improving her fathers health but in the end they were only able to stabilize him. A forbidden jutsu was the thing that caused the harm. It clung to the chakra networks and successfully muted it, and asides from that it affected the blood cells and made any of the body's effort to cure the fever a failure. It took a few days for him to finally come to consciousness and when he did he called for Kaliyah again, much to her relief.
Quickly jumping back into the waters she followed her fathers commands, with Iwao at her side. The lies were still spreading around like wildfire again and her status and motives as half Sen-Ryoko were questioned by many. Some directly giving offense to the girl. All while she and Botan sat by his sides in shifts avoiding each other whenever possible. Just days before he fell unconscious again, in what most guessed to be his final time, Hachirou wrote a letter, stating that he names Kaliyah of the Clan Genji the head of the Clan and the heiress. This was shattering to Botan, who nurtured nothing but hate for Kaliyah, her mother and her sister for the past year. So much to the point of hate being his fuel. He was the rightful heir, he had the right, he was not some half bred child who had other clans blood. The news absolutely enraged him. And at the advice of the old nan, he decided to go through his plan of killing the threats.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
______
The Exile
•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•
Iwao, who still moved between the heirs of Hachirou, overheard this conversation. He never believed he would take it this far, never. Iwao hurried to the mother who was still grieving, and her two daughters trying to comfort her. He practically busted the door down, commanding them to pack the necessities and to follow him. Atsuko, even in her deep grief understood, and struck with great fear for her children's safety she was quick to move. Meanwhile Kaliyah stood in the main room of the house, questioning Iwao-sensei. The light of the half crescent moon shone through the large windows, and then it turned to dancing flames of fires set around the house. Realizing how little time they had, Iwao pushed Kaliyah to start running, Utiss and her mother waiting by the back door. It was only a matter of time before the ninja themselves arrived at the location. Iwao ran behind them while Atsuko took the lead, pushing their way through the great thicket of woods that swallowed them whole.
Grass almost reaching up to Iwaos hips, Utiss being completely swallowed by the green. The approaching steps of the ones after them were swiftly approaching, they made no attempt at staying quiet, each branch the scaled and each step they took was marked by an audible crunch or a hollow creaking sound. They made their way into an open cave, an old mine whose tunnels lead to open fields and a certain escape. Iwao suddenly stopped when they reached the middle of the tunnel's path. He told them to go, to flee. All three of them stopped, hoping Kaliyah would be first to argue. Iwao was surprised to hear Atsuko's voice disagreeing with him. Leaving her two daughters she took long and swift strides until she stood before him, the flame of the torch he held illuminating her determined but distressed gaze.
Labored breath, her expression formed in one of sadness now. Iwao stood quiet, listening to the thundering pursuit of the team sent after them, if not half the Clan too. Turning to look at her children the woman smiled, in what felt like years, after so long of misery in the home she was genuinely smiling at them. Iwao tried to reason with her then, trying to argue how her children needed their mother but his arguments cancelled out. Utiss first ran into her mothers embrace, tears streaming like waterfalls, beginning her to come with them. "No one has to die." Meanwhile Kaliyah stood before her mother, glossy eyes and a solemn look. Iwao, at loss of arguments and lack of time, snatched Utiss by the arm and started running again, flying past Kaliyah who soon followed after saying her own goodbye to her mother, a simple vocalized goodbye to her mothers apology. A single tear rolled down Kaliyah's cheek before she turned around and disappeared into the darkness of the humid cave. Last thing she really saw was her mother weaving signs, a thick dirt wall rising from the ground and blocking her own escape to the other side. Despite her lack of practice and years of being a housewife, her wits were still as sharp in her last moments as they were in her youth. Using the cloak of the darkness as her main shield and using what she knew of taijutsu and ninjutsu to buy any time she could for the escape of her two daughters.
Days would go by since then with great tension between the trio, Utiss being the most affected by her mothers death. They barely stopped for rest or even food and water, all three of them were growing tired by the hour. Encouraging the girls to keep going, Iwao led them further away into the wilderness of the lands that remained unclaimed. It wasn't until Utiss had fallen unconscious that they were forced to stop, taking shelter in the tall tree trunks, far from anyone's reach and prying eyes. They rested there for a period of time, waking up to a fire at the trees twisted roots and Iwao-sensei at its side. The smell of smoke and cooking meat woke them both up.
Iwao told Kaliyah that he was uncertain where they had to go, the Sen-Ryoko clan was their only option if they planned on reaching any form of safety. But Iwao scarcely knew of their location and now with the lack of whispers and news bringers, they had to really work to find their way around safely. Kaliyahs skill at travel came naturally to her, enhanced by her previous knowledge and previous travelling. Now they were at an all time risk of being killed, be it by their pursuers or by another clan whose territory they may stumble upon even if they were careful with where they headed.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
_____
The Kyofū
•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•
Months after their initial escape they have made their way closer and closer to the shores and the sea. They had come across many small cities where they ended up finding more food and other supplies. Both Kaliyah and Utiss underwent a more subtle form of training from Iwao, focused primarily on the art of stealth and staying undetected. During this time, physical training was put off so as to not draw attention to themselves. Utiss, who was quite unsatisfied and stubborn to these techniques in the start, did well in the lessons, even succeeding past Kaliyah in certain aspects. Where Kaliyah was more prone to clumsiness, Utiss was quick to act and smooth things over, quick witted.
They stayed near the many rivers that lead to the sea for a while longer, resting and smoothing their skills. They were getting comfortable until one day a group of mercenaries recognized Iwao. They became surrounded and even if all three of them somehow worked together, they were at a great disadvantage and any attempt at fighting would ultimately fail. Kaliyah would have taken up a sword still, pushing her sister behind her. The leader of the small group of mercenaries revealed to seemingly hold quite a grudge against Iwao, spitting hateful and quite rude comments to which Iwao stayed quiet and confused, but in the end the man surprisingly laughed. All past comments now left in the dust, all made of sarcasm that the two sisters could barely grasp. Much to all of their surprise. Iwao soon followed in on his laugh. The two would hug, greeting each other with the title of "brothers of war". The tangible tension suddenly disappeared from the air and Iwao would go on to explain their situation briefly, going as far as to ask for the mercenary leaders - Tsuyoshi- for their aid.
Tsuyoshi agreed, although he freely expressed his distaste for their plan to reach the other clan, saying how they should have just forgotten about it all and started a new life, mentioning how dangerous it all was, including the clan themselves. Later he would even mention the great serpents and eagles they possessed, stories carried from ear to ear between people,, confessing that it was his least liked place to go. They packed their scattered things and started their journey with the group as early as sunbreak. The travel was tough now, having to keep up with the ever changing schedule and fast moving pace of the group that was named The Kyōfū. Due to the situation of the three, the journey to the great plains north-west took even longer. Having to do a full detour across the desert. During their travels Kaliyah would hardly let Utiss alone, even if she was in the company of Iwao who she grew suspicious of. She couldn't understand how he could trust them. Her image of them soured even more when Tsuyoshi criticized her for not standing up properly against Botan when she had the time. It greatly frustrated her, his way of thinking and way of doing things. His way of thinking was so simple. But if they were to reach the Sen-Ryokō, she had to have patience, which by that point was starting to dwindle.
Finally, after almost a month of travel they reached their destination. The sand and rock which they got used to travelling through turned to green and lush grass, hills and mountains would start to surround them, loom over them and Kaliyah was certain that sometimes the tall giants of mountains had eyes of their own. The mercenaries made camp in the great roots of what they called the Mother Mountain. The trio was almost free to go, with Tsuyoshi constantly warning his old friend about the supposed nature of the people they were trying to find. He told so many tales and alleged truths it made Kaliyahs head spin with the numerous possibilities. Her mind was oftentimes going to the ideas of dragons, in which case they stood no chance against them if it came to the worst of the worst. All their attempts would have been in vain. The tales her mother told her all now resurfaced as well as the tales of the Old Nan, ingrained in her head till the end of days. It made Kaliyah fearful to the bone, but now with having to take care of Utiss and remain strong, and with how often she got criticized for such things, she remained quiet and completely closed with her emotions. Withdrawn completely within herself. She was becoming homesick for the place that didn't exist.
The place she was born in was no longer her home, and the Sen-Ryokō didn't seem so great and friendly anymore. Utiss showed her gratitude for the group's aid by giving them medical treatment and advice for any future incidents, getting to know the people of the small group through that interaction. Utiss still continued on with the techniques Iwao taught them, subtly pushing each of them to tell her more. Despite her older sister's disagreement, Utiss still went out of her way to collect intel and soon after became friendly with the others. She showed hesitation when it was time to part with the Kyofu, while Kaliyah was happy they were once again alone, even with the risks it all brought. There was no backing down. The trio would quickly come across and once again be cornered by someone, this time Iwao recognized their sigil, their symbol. In their quick quarrel the four of the foes worked as one, it was quick to catch them, but at the moment of Iwao's realization and confession they were hesitant and suspicious of the three. The three could have been a part of a greater plan. So instead of the nice treatment they were practically taken hostage and brought before the Clan leader and elder. Iwao, despite his usual, diplomatic self, after the tough journeys and almost no sleep, pleaded with the man to give the girls the safety. It took a long conversation between him and the leader before the girls were brought in as well to speak. Kaliyah spoke the most, with Utiss chipping in every so often to vouch for her sister and Iwao-sensei.
Upon a long and thorough conversation between Iwao, Kaliyah and the clan leader, they were allowed to stay under strict supervision until they proved themselves to be true. The old man was greatly saddened by the death of his only child, regretful of his choice of sending her away, yet it was too late to grieve now. He had taken a liking to the two sisters quite quickly after, seeing a lot of their mother in them and seeing as they were nothing but children he felt sympathy for their situation. Kaliyah and Utiss, despite Iwao's worries, were pulled away by a pair of clan members, two older women who made sure the sisters were well fed and got a new change of clothes. While Utiss quite enjoyed the attention and the warmth the women brought with them, the affection they tried to show in hopes of bringing comfort; Kaliyah was very unsure. Mind still plagued with worries and many things alike. Remembering the things her mother had told her about the Clan, all the things she heard about the Sen-Ryokō, she didn't want anything more but to be left alone. She had started to dream about going back to the cottage and being at peace.
The following days were spent with their trials, from things as blunt as combat experience to more subtle things where members of the clan were sent to subtly interrogate the three. It quite some time until the clan decided they were worthy enough of their trust and would finally start to treat them nicely. Upon request, Kaliyah met with the clan leader, her grandfather. He told her that the word brought the Genji were quite weak, but that Botan was nowhere near nice when it came of the Sen-Ryokō people that were left behind. He asked of her to tell him everything as his plan was to infiltrate and take the people back, perhaps even attack, even he was unclear about his plan. Kaliyah was opposed to the idea of going back, it was not worth the trouble and risking even more lives as well as her own. She came off as quite selfish in their discussion, but with nagging from Utiss and Iwao, she succumbed to their request. It was true, she didn't want to do anything but stay far away from the Genji grounds, but she couldn't deny the guilt that ate away at her when she tried declining to help them. And as the second oldest, and only heir of the Sen-Ryokō, she was forced to care and accept. So many people were sent under Botan controlling claws, and so many were suffering each day. It was an internal battle Kaliyah had to fight. In the end, Utiss and the other two won the discussion, which resulted in Kaliyah starting her training once again and harder than ever before. Technically, as she was the only child of the clan head, and the oldest, she was to become its leader one day. But due to her young age, she was not officially rewarded with that title. Iwao would become her best advisor and the holder of the said title.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
_____
The Old Lair
•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•
It did not take long for Botan to send people south for their heads. The small team that infiltrated the borders were quickly noticed however; few border guards lost their lives in the process of their swift attacks. Their main goal was to find the sisters, and they didn't take a break, they barely spared anyone else their time even when the alarms were sent out. By the time the team reached the location of the younger sibling, the news of the intruders had already spread around like wildfire and both Kaliyah and Iwao were already at the location as well. The moment before the blades crashed felt overwhelming, seeing the faces of the ones that were in their pursuit that night, the ones who killed her mother too no doubt; Kaliyah felt sad, then angry, almost revenge thirsty. She has never felt that amount of anger before, that amount of grief turned to rage. While Utiss fled to safety behind them through the maze of the forests, Kaliyah and Iwao along with several others ruthlessly fought against the intruders. Iwao yelled over the noise and the ruckuss at Kaliyah who was slowly losing herself in the battle, not sparing a single blow, not pulling any of her strikes back. She could barely hear him, or she chose not to hear him, she didn't know for sure, she could hardly feel the pain when the enemy's blade made contact with her flesh. But once she saw that the battle had to be wrapped up quickly, as their fighting was damaging things around them, Kaliyah took it a step further, almost forgetting all things she had learned and instead distracted half of the group, pushing them into chasing her. The chase was long and swift, with Kaliyah leading them through the great plains of the mountains, far beyond the borders. It was then when the effects of the blood loss began to weigh her down. The winds were wild that night, rising great dirt and sand storms around them and almost knocking them all over certain cliffs.
Once she reached the higher points of the mountain she turned around in order to face them, they were out in the open now, she noticed finally. Moon shone down upon them and the smooth stone while the raging wind continued to blow. Steel crashed against steel, sending sparks flying all around into their faces. The young heiress didn't back down, but she was now weak despite her stubbornness. Even with all the anger and the will she held, she couldn't defeat them like this. Gathering all strength she could and with the help of her chakra, she jumped high into the sky before weaving the signs of her wind jutsu. Sending a quick but powerful wave of winds that sliced into her enemies and the floor like it was nothing. As she began to fall back to the floor the ground under her suddenly cracked. Two of the men that survived her attack suddenly got up and charged at her, tackling her to the ground and thus making the ground completely shatter underneath them. They fell into the dark abyss, the half crescent moon only giving them some semblance of light.
Kaliyah used the winds to her advantage and cushioned her fall by the slightest, while the other two had caught onto the ledges they could grasp. She was now completely cornered, in the complete darkness she could tell that there was no way out. The enemies loomed over her, she was certain this would be her end. She was almost out of chakra and the previous anger was washing off, leaving all the pain and soreness behind. The two above her started to chip in comments through gritted teeth, words like venom as they slowly dropped from one ledge to the other, carefully making their way down. Kaliyah gathered herself, gripping her sword in her hand as graciously as she could. Blood stained the ground. A small breeze was blowing in the small cavern, something Kaliyah didn't understand. The warmth of it was a great contrast to the freezing winds of the mountain peaks. Kaliyah focused on the two ahead, placing the blade close to her face, a short moment to admire the fine blue sheen over the cool steel. Just when the two charged she stepped into the darkness and dodged the kunais one of them sent her way. Just as she appeared once again in their field of vision, something bigger stepped behind her.
The horrified looks of the enemies faces alone made Kaliyah's blood run cold. The small rumble of the ground and the warm breeze returned at a bigger scale and just in the last second Kaliyah dodged behind a great rock when a stream of hot fire lightened up the cavern. The fires licked at everything, warming up the stone where the young girl hid but she didn't step away until the flames stopped and the screams of anguish subsided. Panting and drained of all energy, her mind was hazy and going wild with the situation, attempting to wrap her head around it. Daring to pop her head out from behind the rock she was met with big green eyes illuminated by the dying flames, teeth sharp as daggers and white whiskers resembling snakes. The snarl of the great beast was slowly fading, and when its burning gaze met Kaliyahs the beast let out a guttural growl.
A dragon stood before her. Scaring her from her hiding she was pushed to stand directly under the moon's glow while the only thing she saw of the beast was the glowing eyes and the illuminated maw it possessed. The beast sniffed at the air, at her scent, the moment felt as if it lasted so much longer, each second felt dragged on to the end. Suddenly, it spoke. "Go." It was enough to snap Kaliyah out of her dazed state, seeing the horrible beast retreat into the darkness and she no longer felt frozen. Her feet were quick to move and find her footing as she scaled the steep walls of the cavern, without a thought she climbed out and made her way down the mountain. Next time she woke, she got quite a bit of scolding from Iwao, scolding her for her actions.
But night after night, her dreams were filled with the scene when the dragon stood in front of her. Sometimes the dragon in her dreams would burn her to ash, and in others he'd simply stare from the darkness. Kaliyah would begin to question if she was just dreaming of dragons and thinking that perhaps she didn't actually see one. Whatever the truth was, it bothered Kaliyah and when duties gave her time off she ventured into the village in hopes for answers. Over time of their initial exile and time in the foreign lands, Kaliyah became completely withdrawn and secretive, her social skills were no longer the best and polished. She became blunt, asking some of the older people of the clan about stories of the flying beasts. It was a bit upsetting, seeing how some of them reacted, sour reactions, but most of them were more than willing to tell her. The last great dragon of the clan had died almost 200 years ago, and it cost them almost everything. Before that, dragons were highly valued among the clansmen, the people a dragon chose to work with were treated with utmost respect and were the guardians of the Clan. The dragons and their masters were seen as the force to be reckoned with, nothing could get past them. The kin of the great beasts was slowly thinning out, not that there were too many to begin with, but when it came to the last known dragon it became a sad story.
The last of their kind, the honorable beast, burned his master to ashes unexpectedly, along with the many that closely worked with the woman. They were left alone and hearing their great loss many other clans came to claim the fertile lands for their own. They were defenseless. No one was there to protect them after their own guardians left them in the dust and the dragon they once looked up to disappeared, dead they said. But now Kaliyah knew it to be a lie, she had just seen a dragon! The dragons were not dead, the one she encountered was a youngling, still small. While the great beast that betrayed them was described as a looming giant. A lot about the dragons was shrouded with biased opinions and the information was very vague so a lot was left up to Kaliyah to find out. The time would prove for it to be a hard task to gather intel, this would take time. With that taking up too much time, time that she could otherwise spend more productively, she decided on an additional approach.
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𝗱𝗮𝘆 𝘀𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗻:. 𝘄𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗿𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘄/ 𝘀𝗮𝘄𝗮𝗺𝘂𝗿𝗮 𝗱𝗮𝗶𝗰𝗵𝗶
synopsis.: a musician thrived from her audience just as daichi thrived from your performances every single time.
𝗜. the first time he met you was at a christmas family gathering. you were neighbours, if that was what you call it if you only lived a household apart. he was drawn to your music like anybody would be if they've never heard its sound before. the way in which your fingers danced across the white and ivory keys, the odd bob of your head to the melody and the subtle smile that glossed over your lips was entrancing. you were a true performer, hidden by adults and disappearing into the evening before he even got to catch your name.
it was infuriating to say the least, but daichi wasn't planning on throwing in the towel so easily. he wanted to meet you again, hopefully under the same settings except instead of watching from behind the safety of the other adults standing by to observe, he'd be at the front, obtaining vip seats to admire your beauty from afar, falling in love with you as time progressed.
𝗜𝗜. the second time he met you was at a café in central town. he had originally planned to order a cup of coffee to take away quickly in the hopes of walking back home before the snow started. originally being a word that balances atop the tip of his tongue. his ungloved hands brush against the cashier's soft yet calloused fingertips as he clutches his order. he cursed himself for not noticing you sooner.
of course it was natural to say the least. you had both grown older, seven years to be exact and there was still a hint of mystery in your eyes that drew him closer to you. to him, you were like a boat at sea. turmoils of life made your connection waver; weaken to a point at which you don't remember his name, face or age. it was heart-wrenching. to have fallen in love with someone who didn't even know he existed.
"thank you..." he tries to find the words, anything that would make this interaction easier to deal with. but alas to no avail he couldn't find it in him to finish the sentence. he couldn't do it.
"y/n." he looks up from his to go bad, eyes widening at the new revelation. "it's y/n l/n but feel free to call my y/n, daichi sawamura."
"you know my name?"
"daichi sawamura? well let's see: somehow you're always competing with me for the top spot in exams and extracurricular activities; you're a volleyball club member, friend to sugawara koushi and azumane asahi and lastly, my neighbour's neighbour."
"ah yeah, i guess there were a lot of opportunities to find out my name," he bashfully chuckles, scratching his neck gently.
"don't worry about it. now that we know each others' names, i won't feel at such a loss of words if i ever came up to you in school."
sawamura daichi was in love with you. he was in love with your beauty, effortlessly glowing on stage as you poured your passion into your music. you were as breathtaking as the music your fingers played. up till now, he had only been able to watch you from afar, admiring your skills from a safe distance in which you wouldn't notice him as much he yearned you to. but without a name to call you buy, it would seem too forced, tense. unfortunately, that was the price he paid for not trying to find you sooner to tell you his name sooner.
𝗜𝗜𝗜. the third time he met you, you exchanged names again. introductions at high school started from early spring. you were in most of his classes and a topic of discussion many many times. even some of the upperclassmen knew your name. y/n. the pianist who couldn't help but forget the names of her unrequited romances.
you were everywhere, very adamant on making your presence known to everyone in school.
the speakers in the hallways were always on, meaning that you could broadcast your music to every individual in the school, bringing colour into what felt dull and muted. even from afar, you could make so many things more beautiful than what they were originally. you were unapologetically perfect to him.
he figured that people were starting to find out about his infatuation with you. afterall, his friends could always find him lost in thought as he listened to your music through the speakers. the variation in melodies and change in tempos made each second more interesting than the next, keeping listeners reeled in till the end.
in a way, he see you as a siren, reeling fishermen out to see with your prevocative sound. it wasn't until they got close enough that they realised that they were going to be killed — similarly, for every boy or girl that approached you, their names would always fly into one ear and out of the other.
you were bad at remembering names. he made a note of this as he stood beside you during graduation, often sharing glances with in between pauses.
this was it, he told himself. after today, he would never be able to see you again. he was planning to go to college and get a degree that would be suitable for the department of work he was planning to go into. who knows whether he would be able to see you again?
"sawamura daichi," you call out to him. the sun was setting behind you providing an ethereal glow that outlined your figure; he couldn't help but be awestruck. even as tears fell down your cheeks for whatever reason, you were still so beautiful.
"till we meet again."
and that was that.
𝗜𝗩. the last time he sees you is at a christmas family gathering. your family once again inviting his for old times sake. the piano remained old and untouched yet there was no sign of any dust accumulating on its ivory glossed surface. have you seen it yet? did it draw you in like it did for him? the keys feel dainty and precarious; one wrong step and the sound that leaves the heart of the object feels wrong.
how were you able to play such comforting sounds and bring people together with it? how were you skilled in such an instrument?
"'till we meet again' right?"
a ghost of a smile forms on his lips. "just as you predicted l/n y/n."
"yeah i suppose," you hum, taking a seat in the piano. what you wore wasn't anything special: just a cream turtleneck and a pencil skirt tucking away the hem of it. but the moment you take a seat on the cushioned stool, daichi feels his environment change like whiplash. you're decked in glorious velvet, the dress reaching your ankles. your hands were shaking only slightly but it was negligible when you started to play once again.
daichi was in love you that was sure. despite not being able to tell you those feelings himself, he let the music express those emotions, tying your fates together. you were destined to meet each other at the piano. you knew that now more than ever so you poured your all into it like before.
the ivory and white ceys blending into a mix of just sounds. they felt different. your music sounded more sensual, exposing what was already so open. you wanted him to know. you wanted him to see you as something more than a feeble musician. you wanted him to know that his feelings weren't unrequited; that they were mutual more than ever.
the song ends with a round of applause, sweat dripping down the sides of your face, slightly out of breath. you hope it reached him: the pain, the strife, the memories. you hope that despite the distance that always comes between you that he'll always be watching your performances, standing at the front with a smile that said more than just a "well done."
"sawamura daichi, will you marry me?"
(+) 𝘁𝘄𝗲𝗹𝘃𝗲 𝗱𝗮𝘆𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝗺𝗮𝗱𝗻𝗲𝘀𝘀 𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁
(+) 𝘁𝘂𝗻𝗲 𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗼𝗺𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗼𝘄 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗻𝗲𝘅𝘁 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗼𝘁𝗶𝗰 𝘀𝘂𝗿𝗽𝗿𝗶𝘀𝗲
#🎁 madness#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu#haikyuu headcanons#haikyuu imagines#haikyuu!!#haikyuu scenarios#myworks#daichi scenario#daichi x you#daichi sawamura#daichi x reader#daich sawamura#daichi sawamura x reader#daichi x y/n
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"Soren, would you like to go first?" Ren never really expected themselves to be before an officiant- let alone for this reason...But, for some reason, they weren't afraid. Not exactly, not in the way they thought they would be. Nodding, they look back to Makoto- after keeping in yet another internal little squeak- and give a soft sigh and a little smile...They were ready for this.
"When we first met...and I mean, truly, deeply first met... I felt almost drawn to you. You said it yourself; we had always had some kind of connection, one that goes beyond time, space...probably even ourselves as we are currently. I always felt drawn to you then, to be close to you- but I could never exactly pinpoint what it was...yet, here we are now. Years later, and we're both still here. Both still...okay. I'll be the first one to say it- shit isn't perfect-" That gets a bit of a chuckle from themselves, "-But we're here...and we're alive. And we have the groundwork for a new beginning."
With a little shaky, nervous sigh, they bite their lower lip and manage to maintain eye contact with Makoto, "...I know I can't always be there when you need me- and I know I can't promise things will be perfect. But I can promise- can vow to you- that I'll be doing my best, each and everyday. Doing my best to improve, to get better, to learn new things, and to love you. Each, and everyday. Always, and forever. You mean the world to me, and to whatever secrets that we may share in the future..." Theres a smirk, and already Makoto knows what's coming, "I'll never tell a single soul. That's a promise, and my vow to you...I'll always, always cherish you."
Despite their light joke, there were tears in their eyes, barely held together through their strict will alone. Makoto wasn't much better- in fact he had to let go of their hand once or twice to wipe at his own eyes, before letting out a soft laugh of surprise himself. Still, after looking to the officiant himself- and getting a small nod- he proceeded to speak himself.
"Ren, first of all, how dare you make me cry like that-" That got a laugh out of the two of them, as well as the small gathering of people who had decided to attend that day, "-Still, still...There's so many things I could say...So many things I want to say- and it wouldn't truly be enough. You're so many things- you've done so much for me and for those around you...and yet, you never stop pursuing to help everyone around you. Everyone except yourself." Despite himself, he rests a hand gently on their cheek to reassure them, to calm them down a bit.
"I thought I knew who I was- someone who didn't quite stick out in the crowd, who was just...well, average at everything I did. And I thought I was okay with that... But uh..." He chuckled nervously, "Turns out that's just self esteem issues, I suppose. You never stopped believing in me- back then and all the way up until now. No matter what we faced, you had full faith in me that it'd be alright. I've always had a more optimistic attitude...and you always struggled to maintain one, but you still were always there for me. You say you weren't- but I assure you, even if you couldn't physically help in some way...I knew you were there for me, in spirit."
He shakes his head a bit, "I guess this is a roundabout way of saying...I'm proud of you. You've taught me so much, and grown so much more than from when we first met. You stand tall- well, really short in your case-" A little joke that earned him a gentle subtle kick with their shoe- causing him to laugh, "-You stand tall in the face of everything you've been through. Each day you keep moving forward, despite what lingers over you...And for that reason alone, I'm so proud of you. You always tell me that I saved you, that I've done so much for you...and while I can't always believe that's true, I can promise you that I'll be there whenever I can. You deserve to have someone who can protect you, and well- if it's me...I guess I really can't argue with that. I love you, Soren...with everything I am. You're my hope, and my proof that my Ultimate Luck truly isn't just a throwaway Ultimate...It's proof that I really am lucky to have you in my life. I swear, I'll never leave you- if you'll allow me to stay in your life...and that I'll always do my best to protect you, and cherish what we have. Always. My love for you is no secret."
He was trying to keep his voice from shaking, truly he was- but while his tone held certainty, his nervousness was equally as palpable in his tone. It was also not much of a secret that, simply put- he had completely did that on the fly, rather than plan it out. All the same, it looked like his words got through to them- the tears they were trying to keep back having started to fall from their cheeks. Leaning into the palm of his hand that still rested on their cheek, they nuzzled into it for comfort before pulling back to let his hand free- a smile on their face the whole while. At least he knew he didn't royally screw that up.
Still, thereafter came the rings- the one thing Makoto knew for certain. Ren may have been the one to do most of the planning- Mostly in part due to Makoto knowing full and well they were better at all of this than he could ever really hope to be- but he was the one who picked what the wedding bands would be. He didn't let Ren see what they were, wanting to get their reaction above anything else. He did his own first, slipping the ring carefully onto their ring finger- trying to quell the slightly anxious tremble of his own hands. He couldn't help being nervous.
The ring itself was simple in nature, but it's meanings would show themselves to those two alone. Theirs particularly had an outer layer of silver- steel, particularly- with moonstone in the middle. Carved into it, were a few small things. A moon and some stars, a reminder of the promise ring they got the both of them and a light comparison to his own band. A small little heart, that had a little ruby heart gemstone in the middle, as it was their birthstone. Lastly, on the underside of the ring, was engraved a few simple words; 'You are my luck, and my hope.'
His was similar of course, rather instead a shade of gold rather than silver with sun and cloud engravings on his own, and an sapphire heart rather than a ruby one. On the underside of his, was something that he heard them say to him once or twice- something that stuck with him, something he observed as they, in turn, slipped the band onto his ring finger.
'You're the reason I believe in my empathy.'
He watched Ren's reaction, though, as their expression shifted from the soft counterance they had previously to curiosity. Then, to thought- likely tuning out the officiant in favor of observing the ring- and finally acknowledgement, gaze snapping back up to meet Makoto's as the tears that had started to slow down only picked right back up. He could faintly notice them mouth something along the lines of 'You fucking dork,' as the officiant had continued to speak, their facade of pride crumbling down with their tears.
The two had been so busy reveling in their own little world for a few moments, that neither had even noticed that the officiant had been asking a question. Makoto, naturally, snapped out of it first in time for him to recognize his name being said.
"S-sorry, what was that?" And, promptly, his question snapped Ren back out of their own stupor, blushing a bit in embarassment. Makoto wished he wasn't in the same flustered state. Thankfully it got a bit of chuckles out of everyone else, and the officiant repeated himself.
"Do you, Makoto Naegi, take Soren to be your spouse?"
"Oh!" Well, if he wasn't red before hand, he definitely was now, "I...I do." ...But he still wouldn't hesitate with his answer, not for a moment.
It got a bit of a giggle out of Ren. At least they were amused at how flustered he was- but he knew full well it was a double edged sword.
"Soren, do you take Makoto to be your lawfully wedded husband?"
Despite watching their cheeks turn a bright red- called it- and noticing their breath bitch a bit, their resolve didn't falter in the slightest.
"I do, now and forever."
Makoto couldn't help but smile at that, the nervous expression he adorned softening into adoration. He could be nervous, sure, but right then and there? With that smile they had on? He could feel nothing but pure, unadulterated love. He didn't notice when the officiant was asking if anyone had any objections- he didn't notice when no one had said anything, or that everyone was staring intently at the two, all he could really notice was them.
He only snapped out of it once more when he heard the Officiant speak once more.
"Then it is my great honor to pronounce you as husband and spouse!" The officiant look to the two with a little grin, "You may now kiss, if so desired."
About halfway through that sentence however, impatient as they were- Ren had quickly grabbed Makoto to yank the brunette into their shorter embrace. Yelping a bit in surprise- it instead dissolved into a little laugh as Ren mumbled a short and cheeky, 'Hey', to Makoto- only before pressing a shy kiss to him. He didn't hesitate to reciprocate, a hand gently combing past the flower crown veil to instead thread his fingers through their hair. Only then did they relax a bit, pressing back with a bit more decor for a few moments before drawing away a bit.
"Hello to you, too, Mx. Naegi," Makoto lightly teased, despite being out of breath. Watching their face equally flush a bright red, but light up with delight, he ignored the small uproar of his friends and family- instead laughing to himself before being ambushed in another kiss from his now-spouse. Despite it all, they made it to this point...New Years Eve- now New Years day...Now, officially, married. To the two, it was clear as day...
What a great way to start a new year.
#[ emotionally hopeful ]#[ ren's art ]#[ ren's s/i ]#[ f/o event: new year wedding ]#I HOPE YOU UNDERSTAND I WROTE THIS WITHIN A FEW HOURS AND ALSO FLUSTERED MYSELF THE W H O L E DAMN TIME
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Okay I do have work in the morning but I have time to rant a bit and maybe read some of your oc works depends on how long this takes. It does get long, btw
Alright so quick TW for fire, trauma, mild mania mention, death of family, and weapon mentions
Way before the SMP and everything Charrish was just part of a regular old family of skeleton half-breeds. Their mother was an Overworld skeleton, and their father was a Wither Skeleton. Charrish had a brother, more Overworld than Wither, and Charrish was the opposite. Now, their father was often away fighting as a guard for the nearby Nether Fortress. Because of this, their mother had to raise two rapidly growing children on her own. (For reference of growth speed, Charrish turns out to be 9'10) And so over time their mother decended into something of a mute madness. She repeated the same tasks on the daily and never did anything else, trapped in a mental loop.
One day, Charrish was out gathering materials to get them through the summer spent in the Overworld with their mother's family. But while they were out, a rogue Ghast fireball struck their home, starting a raging fire only fueled by the environment. The ceiling collapsed just as Charrish returned. They ran into the flames in an attempt to save what family they had left, but instead they got pinned beneath a burning board, mother and brother already dead.
Charrish was the only survivor, but they were burned to no end. Every inch of their body was a rough charcoal texture and was flaking at the touch, and what used to be grayish bone turned what resembles Wither Skeleton black. The entire community thought they wouldn't make it, that the burns and injuries were too bad and they were better off on their own to die in peace. Not to mention the other skeletons their age making up names, Charred being one of them. It made them feel ostracized, and even more alone than they already were. But they took on the title, eventually changing it up a bit to Charrish. Later on, they'll forget what their name before even was. When they tell the tale, they'll say "My name before this was not who I am. Becoming Charrish was my destiny, my purpose. It always has been. I know it."
Miraculously, they survived the burn. And decided to attempt and do something no Wither Skeleton had done before, take up permanent residence in the Overworld. Even spending the summer was risky, and they were often kept ib hot temperatures. But going through all the seasons up there was seen as impossible. Then again, them surviving was supposed to be impossible, as well.
Before they left, they received a gift along with a note. The note was from their father, telling them about how he had always believed in them. Charrish didn't believe a word of it, but did take the gift. It was the first sword their father had ever trained with; a sturdy stone one without enchantments but the power of Withering embedded deep in its cracks. That was all Charrish had to take up to the Overworld. Oh, and the name of the weapon? IT was carved into its hilt centuries before then. Famine. The first of many, which I'll get to in a second.
In childhood, they were good friends with Techno. They grew up together. But he moved to the Overworld long before Charrish did, and they drifted apart. So seeing him again was certainly a trip. Charrish showed up when everyone was in mourning over the first loss of Wilbur. The remaining members of SBI took them in first, mostly because of their relationship with Techno. And the rest just fell into place from there.
The iron daggers they carry share the name Conquest, and their Netherite axe is named War. Famine, Conquest, and War. And as for powers, the only real power comes from when they eventually discover they can harness the abilities of the Wither itself. It hurts like Hell, but they can fly, shoot beams of light that explode upon contact, and all that cool Wither shit.
Some extra lore: (I have a Slides presentation for this that I'm reading off of)
They can't stand fire after what happened, but they have an immunity to it
They can't return to the Nether for too long, both because of memories and because they've adapted to living in the Overworld
They can't remember the names of their family and they also can't remember how they forgot. Charrish and Ghostbur narrowed it down to either repression or memory loss from blunt force trauma (they did it with the help of Phil, too)
They hate serious injuries and try to either hide them or walk them off because of how they were treated when everyone thought they would die
Charrish is always very aware because the last time they weren't, their mother and brother died
When they die in canon, they turn into a pile of bones that slowly get reconstructed and put back together as they respawn
"Chat" are the souls once in the Soul Sand from the Nether that their house was built on trapped in their hollow ribcage, and others are more souls claimed by Famine in battle (those would be the subscribers ahdks)
Anyway yeah. That's about the gist. If you have any questions for whatever reason go ahead and ask I don't mind and I could probably answer it. But yeah:) have a good day homie!! And I do want to hear more about Krab Meat!
- Ink
oooh, charrish sounds really cool! with the way charrish was treated in the nether, does that imply that maybe they hate serious injuries because they were treated so poorly since everyone thought charrish was gonna die from their injuries? i think its really cool of charrish to really own their name! also, you said that they "tell the tale", to who do they tell it to? the names for their weapons are super cool! i feel like they really fit the vibe of the nether especially Famine since there isnt much food in the nether! since they showed up during the grievance of wils death, how did charrish react to seeing technos secret room filled wall to wall with wither skeletons? were they angry? afraid? not bothered, even?
ill make sure to tell you about c!krabs sometime! just not now though cause you deserve to have the spotlight :]
#krabs kommunicating#tw brother mention#tw death#tw fire#tw trauma#tw mild insanity#tw weapons#tw war mention#tw famine mention#INK MY BELOVEDDD
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This is my @jedijune fanfiction. This is totally late and I have absolutely no excuse for it so I apologize! I had fun trying to figure out how Anakin’s brain works for this fic, because he’s such a chaotic force and I don’t really understand him at all! Constructive criticism is very welcome! Thanks and I hope you enjoy!💙
Prompt 2: Lightsaber
It was official. Anakin was about to die. He had only been a Padawan for about a year and now he would never fulfill any of his hopes or dreams. He would never become a Jedi Knight or Master, he would never get to see his mother again, never get a chance to free her and tell her how much progress he had made. He wouldn’t be able to free all of the slaves on Tatooine. And he would never get to explore the whole wide galaxy!
After all his thoughts of how he would go out if he ever did, this wasn’t what Anakin expected. He thought that if he ever died it would be in the midst of a large battle - he would die heroically saving countless people, Jedi included. Obi-Wan would finally see how good he really was, and in Anakin’s last moments Obi-Wan would apologize for holding him back and teaching him useless things like breathing exercises and boring meditation techniques. Even in his head, however, Anakin usually assumed he would survive whatever wound had led Obi-Wan to apologize to him, so that he could go on to become the grand master of the Jedi, as well as a most loved hero of the galaxy!
Now Anakin knew that that wouldn’t come to pass. Instead, he was doomed to die as a Jedi Padawan, here on a small planet where he and Obi-Wan had been sent as peacekeepers.
Obi-Wan and Anakin had chased an assassin who had attempted to kill one of the leaders within the negotiations at the time. Somewhere along the way they had gotten separated, which led to Anakin stumbling into the bind that he was currently in. He had almost caught the assassin on his own, but he got cocky and the assassin took advantage of that. He had caught Anakin on top of one of the buildings, and after a few minutes he had managed to push Anakin off the edge. Anakin had fallen onto a balcony a ways down, and discovered that the building wasn’t finished being built and there was no exit from the level he was on. He wasn’t yet skilled or experienced enough to find a way out, although he had tried, and nearly fallen off of the balcony in an attempt to climb down. So there he was - stuck, mildly injured, and waiting for his terrible fate to come to pass.
Anakin knew he was being dramatic, however - death would be too quick a punishment to be suitable for such a mistake. Maybe Obi-Wan would realize that he was indeed too young to be a Padawan and would demote him to be a youngling for a few years. Maybe he would be sent away! Anakin overheard a few Padawans talking about some type of agricorp that their friend had been sent to? Apparently if a youngling wasn’t chosen by their thirteenth birthday they were sent away… who knew?
Just then Anakin heard the sound of engines outside of the building and looked up in time to see a quaint ship carefully lining up by the balcony that he had fallen onto earlier. He panicked as he saw it, his imagination going into overdrive as he thought of the probable consequences of his actions. What if Obi-Wan simply kicked him out of the temple and left him to try and survive! What if he decided to just leave him on this foreign planet where the people spoke a dialect that he didn’t understand? What if they decided he was better suited to Tatooine and dropped him off back at Watto’s shop??
His mother would be so disappointed! Obi-Wan would glare at him in that way that would look rather neutral to outsiders, but if you were on the receiving end of it you would just Know that you were about to regret whatever you just did. The other Padawans would laugh at him for his idiocy and tell him it proved that he was never worthy, just like they always said. What if…
Anakin’s thoughts and wild imagination were cut off by his name being called out from the direction of the ship. Looking up from the ground - when had he started looking at the ground instead of the ship? - he saw the ship's ramp had lowered and suddenly Obi-Wan was safely on the balcony, looking at him with… was that worry in his eyes? No, that couldn’t be right, and it would quickly change when he realized the magnitude of what Anakin had done.
“Are you alright, Anakin? It’s unlike you to be this quiet,” Obi-Wan questioned as he swiftly paced forward to stand in front of his young Padawan. For once in his life, Anakin was unable to come up with any response, sarcastic or not. So he simply looked back at the ground, hoping wistfully that it could just swallow him up and end his suffering.
He glanced up briefly when he heard Obi-Wan stepping closer. His brow was creased and he was scanning Anakin over for, presumably, injuries. However, Anakin knew that he would only find some cuts and bruises from the fall, and maybe from the brief scuffle he had had with the assassin.
After what seemed like ages but was probably only a few seconds, Obi-Wan seemed satisfied that he wasn’t terribly hurt, and gestured for Anakin to follow him into their ship.
Once inside, Anakin swiftly strapped himself into the copilot's seat, and promptly smashed his face against the window as he stubbornly stared outside to avoid Obi-Wan concerned glances as he began to pilot the ship back to the room they were staying at. Anakin assumed that meant that the assassin got away, which certainly didn’t help his mood.
For some reason, Obi-Wan allowed him to stay silent the whole trip back, which admittedly wasn’t that long, only a few minutes, but still… Anakin grudgingly appreciated it, not that Obi-Wan ever needed to know that, and as soon as the ship landed on the roof of their building, Anakin hopped out scarcely before the ramp was even lowered, and scurried inside to clean up. Before he made it up the stairs to the refresher, however, he was stopped by Obi-Wan, who placed a gentle but firm hand on his shoulder just as he was about to skulk off to the refresher.
“Stay here for now, Anakin,” Obi-Wan instructed before swiftly moving to the kitchen to prepare both of them some tea.
Their accommodations were small and simple so the kitchen was little more than a few cabinets and appliances in the corner of the room. Anakin huffed and moodily sat down on the steps that he had been about to climb. Obi-Wan put on the teapot and as he waited for the water to heat up, he glanced at Anakin over his shoulder.
“What happened?”
It was a simple question, and yet it was what Anakin had been dreading since he had fallen onto the balcony. Obi-Wan had turned back to face the teapot so Anakin had a chance to gather the courage to speak.
He finally decided it would be better to get it over with, so glaring (pouting) at the floor, he shot out, “I lost my lightsaber!”
Once he realized that he had actually admitted to such a crime his head shot up to look at Obi-Wan, his eyes going impossibly wide, and he started rambling, “it was an accident I promise, the assassin pushed me off of a building and I landed on that balcony and I didn’t even notice at first but it must’ve fallen off or something because I couldn’t find it anywhere, and I’m really sorry! Please don’t be mad, don’t send me back to Tatooine..”
“Anakin!” Obi-Wan cut him off when it was clear that he wouldn't stop. “Calm yourself, my young Padawan. Why do you think I would ever send you back to Tatooine?” Obi-Wan pinned Anakin with an incredulous gaze as he turned around to fully face him.
Anakin squirmed uncomfortably and grimaced as he replied. “Well, you’ve told me before that my lightsaber is my life, and that I have to be mindful of it at all times, and you’ve told me specifically not to misplace it, because I would be in trouble if I did…”
Obi-Wan sighed, and started working on brewing their tea as the teapot had just started whistling. “Please listen to me, Anakin. Nothing you do could change the fact that you are my family and I love you - I would never send you away for any reason. You’re my Padawan - it’s my duty and my honor to train, protect, and guide you into the life of a Jedi. I care about you and I just want to help you build the skills and habits that will help you be safe with or without me there to help you. That doesn’t mean that you will never make mistakes, but it is my job to help you lessen the chances of those mistakes happening.”
Anakin hadn’t looked up from the floor the entire time Obi-Wan was talking, but he looked up when he heard the clinking of two mugs being placed on a table. Obi-Wan strode to the steps he was sitting (most definitely not skulking) on and took a seat next to him. He waited a moment for Anakin to look up at him and gave him a small smile, before pulling something out of his robes. It was… Anakin's lightsaber!! Anakin's eyes widened and he leapt to his feet, shooting his head up to gape at Obi-Wan in awe.
Obi-Wan chuckled at his reaction. “You have much potential - however, you are still a new Padawan, and your Force shielding isn’t as thorough as it someday will be. You panicked when you lost your lightsaber and I felt you try to block me from our training bond, but you only managed to dull what you were feeling, so it was fairly easy to deduce what had happened. When I came to get you, I stopped by the base of the building and found it before I picked you up.“ Obi-Wan gave him a stern look, “I tell you not to lose your lightsaber because it is your life. I just want you to be safe. We will discuss this later, and meditate on it together.”
He ignored Anakin’s groan of annoyance and continued, “Tomorrow. I think you’ve had enough excitement for tonight, so for now, enjoy your tea. You did well, Anakin.”
Much love to the wonderful and talented muffin @imaginaryrobin for being my ever patient beta reader and illustrator!!
Your art looks as spectacular as always!💙
#jedi june#chaotic lil bean#anakin is such a mess#this is the first time he ever lost his lightsaber#according to me of course#he didnt take it very well#every time after this he just doesnt care though#obiwan probably regrets being so reasuring this first time#cause now he’s oht of control#tea reference#cause now I’m required#it’s a thing#dont even worry about it#obi toes the line of what a jedi is supposed to act like#because lil ani doesnt understand jedi yet#and obi wants to speak to him in a way he’ll understand#ANI ISNT POUTING OKAY#(only he really is)#(just dont tell hom he’s being stubborn)#i wonder if ani knows that obi got shipped off to the agricorp thing?#does obi know that he knows?#who am i kidding#of course he knows#he’s obiwan#my brain is betraying me#smol star wars boi#star wars#fanfiction#star wars fanfiction#ok sleep time
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Jon and Sansa's relationship is fragile because of Jon's insecurities
[So we're back. Instead of full reviews I think I'm just gonna write about specific subjects that make me pause and think, more than the general episodes]
So we've been treated with Jon's return to Winterfell and his rocky relationship with Sansa resumes. Again. Ain't this old by now ? Perhaps not.
Jon and Sansa are at their most affectionate when it comes to hugs but this second time, Sansa keeps focused on what's important. I don't really understand why Jon would take issue with Sansa speaking up at the council in the Great Hall; she brought up very valid points. Saving the world is important of course but people tend to forget what needs to happen behind the scenes in order to ensure that. I think I'm not alone in this but I also wondered why she didn't take into account Dany's army when preparing all the food storing. While that can be blamed on sloppy writing and it's fair to say that she could have at least entertained the idea, it's also fair to remember that Jon's main idea was first to mine dragonglass and then try to convince Dany to help them. Sansa was not convinced he would succeed; in her mind, Dany would only care about her throne. So far she's not proven entirely wrong. And we also have to remember that Jon didn't send any message to her for a long time and certainly not before he knelt. Probably the last scroll she got was something like 'Hey I'm ok' and then next thing she knew he had bent the knee. So by this time it was already too late to gather whatever food was necessary. Plus I think it's safe to say the entire North brought what food was available FOR THE NORTH ONLY. Obviously there wasn't much and in any case, even if she had been warned she'd have to feed many more, there wouldn't have been enough. Sansa takes care of all this, and all the political stuff - things that both Jon and Dany do not care about and have little regard for. Jon still doesn’t quite realize how much he needs Sansa to handle all of this because he doesn’t realize how important it is. Yet.
The scene that stood out the most takes place during Jon and Arya's reunion in which Jon tries to dismiss Sansa. Live reaction: Ok so we're back to this 'Jon-putting-down-his-sister' nonsense? At first view, it's quite infuriating to see Jon acting this way and it's hard to believe these two ever found a way to unite and effing retake Winterfell. But once you stop and think about it, this little exchange yields so much to analyze.
As many pointed out, Jon likely tries to revert to a childhood joke he shared with Arya when they were younger and used to diss their sister together. Fair point. Siblings often side against one another. But that shows several things. Jon has been away from Arya all series long and he doesn't realize yet that she's not his little baby sister anymore. His conversation about Needle further proves the point. In any case, Arya is having none of it and supports Sansa. We're all here for this.
Here Jon seemingly tries to diminish Sansa's intelligence. But he knows that she really IS smarter than everyone else. He knows it. So I think part of what's going on here is that Jon works as the embodiment of the last part of the general audience who still thinks that Sansa is useless and this scene was written for Arya - a known fan favorite - to dismiss this and assert her support of Sansa - to really drive home this idea. The scene with Tyrion (another fan favorite) serves a similar purpose.
Narratively, beyond Jon dismissing Sansa yet again, this reads as another instance where it's more about Jon than it is about Sansa. Several times Jon has confronted Sansa about her asserted cleverness - and all those times, she's been right - and each time it boiled down to Jon's lack of self-confidence and the need to prove himself to his sister. When she told him that Ramsey was more devious than what he thought, his first reaction was to boast about his military achievements. When she told him to be smarter than Robb and their father, his reaction was to half-jokingly dismiss her offer of counsel. This essentially is a version of him saying 'Yeah she's smart but so am I and I wish she saw it too'
This ties closely with the rest of the exchange where Arya tells him that Sansa is defending the family. Pay attention to what Jon says next - specifically the choice of phrasing it.
There is so much to draw from that line. He doesn't say 'She's my family too' or 'she's our family' or 'I'm your family too'. His choice of words means 'I, Jon, am part of Sansa's family too'. That singles out Sansa as Jon's focus for discontent. He could have said 'I'm your family' or just 'I'm family too' and that would have included Bran and Arya as well. But no, Sansa alone is who Jon focuses on. This shows that he still has some unresolved issues with her - even after all that happened between them. After two seasons of her repeatingly validating him, her saying out loud 'You're a Stark to me' he still doubts HER in particular
Perhaps that boils down to her behavior towards him when they were children since this comes up again later. A seemingly random bit of conversation but one can't help but wonder why this was brought up again. Jon and Sansa weren't close growing up and Jon is a deeply insecure person, being a bastard and all that and it's understandable that he would have a hard time letting go of all these presumptions when they all but defined his childhood. She was the sole of his siblings to make him feel like he didn't have a real place in the family (to make it very simple), hence why he doesn't have a problem with Arya or Bran. Yet.
But how can Sansa change that ? A girl can repeat her support for him so much and reassure him all the time but really it's up to Jon to get past childish jabbing and accept the woman his sister has become and that she's genuine in her concern towards him. That she's changed.
'I'm her family too' is another way of saying 'I'm part of her family too so why is she always antagonizing me/fighting me/disagreeing with me?' Jon still thinks Sansa doesn't consider him family and she's the last one not to in his mind.
The choice of words also emphasizes the 'I'. Rather than say 'she' and put focus on Sansa alone, the use of 'I' brings the sentence back to Jon and puts the spotlight on him as well. 'I am part of her family too'. As if he's saying it out loud and repeating it so that perhaps his thick brain will finally accept it. This is a clever exchange that foreshadows the existential/identity crisis that he's going to go through no later than before the end of the episode. Which renders Arya's 'Don't forget that' quite unsubtle. This will be Jon’s final storyline, the resolution of the one problem that defined him at the beginning of the story.
This need to gain Sansa's approval is driven further in the scene the two of them share later on (another candlelit setting). We have yet to see Jon interact with Bran or Arya but Jon is decidedly different with Sansa. Perhaps that's because they're the eldest. Perhaps that's because they're closer in age. Perhaps that's because they are the leaders of their House. Perhaps that's because they went to war together. In any case, Jon is wary, unsure and insecure about how she feels about him. He doesn’t look to Sansa the way he affectionately looks to Arya or Bran. A smile is rare when he interacts with Sansa. He yells, they don't see eye to eye, he feels like she belittles him, he feels hurt and at the end of it, this :
This is him asking her for reassurance. Asking for a clear answer. 'Please trust me. Please tell me that you support me'. He craves her validation. After he all but dismissed her in front of Arya. Why go see her? Why take her intel so close to his heart then ?
To which she responds 'You know I do'. Two things to take from this. First, once again she reassures him and reasserts her support and loyalty to him. Second, 'YOU KNOW I do' means 'you already know the answer'. This shows that in her mind, Jon should ALREADY know that he has acquired her undying support - probably against her better judgement. Newsflash : he doesn’t.
Can we stop now for a second and breathe a sigh of relief that Sansa has grown confident enough to be sure of who she is and not question Jon's lack of faith in her ? Thank the Gods one of them has their shit together because if she were like him, this wouldn't go anywhere.
It's possible that her not lashing out at him and instead adopting this quiet, sad behavior is also the manifestation of her own fear towards him - that he effectively abandoned her. For all the tough 'no one can protect me' behavior, anyone is going to be touched to have someone pledge to protect them.
Anyway, Sansa trusts Jon but he doesn't. It's quite interesting that he was the one asking for mutual trust before and yet he is the one in the end who can't totally do it because in his heart, he is still deeply insecure about her. Sure there were some steps made. Ensuring the safety of the North and entrusting her with it was a huge improvement. But still, we see that on a personal level he is quite not there.
The obvious question then is WHY. Why is he still insecure ? And why Sansa in particular ? The beginning of an answer can be found in the relationship he had with her while they were children and how it compares to Arya and Bran. Maybe that's just remnants of that strained relationship.
But if Sansa has changed and for the better and Jon still struggles to accept it, let's just hope that a similar situation doesn't arise with Arya and Bran. Let's rule out the latter since he's all about the zen attitude but we've already seen that Arya is not Jon's Arya anymore and that she will stand beside Sansa when needed. For now, Jon has no reason to doubt Arya like he does Sansa. When the reveal about his parentage comes out, how will Sansa and Arya react ? If he can't handle the thought of one sister seemingly doubting him, what's it going to be if it's two sisters ?
All of this insecurity regarding Sansa - for now - is at least partly in preparation of the drama that is sure to unfold in the next weeks. Jon fears that Sansa doesn't see him as family and now, he has even more reason to be afraid. All the drama that has happened between them for seasons boils down to this deep fear of not being accepted by her and now we're in for the culmination. There will be a lot of fighting, we’re told. Jon will sulk and convince himself that he was right in the end, that he wasn't part of the family and more so, that SHE was right not to accept him. Sansa on the other hand, I suspect, will mainly fight to make him accept once and for all that he is a Stark. That's the passionate fight for her this season. To make her family complete.
Another interesting thing to note - as others have observed - is that the conversation is left unfinished.
Sansa asks if Jon loves Dany and he doesn't respond. Once again, Sansa demonstrates - to us and to Jon - how perceptive she is, how well she can read people, and him specifically. As of now, Jon’s relationship with Dany is still a secret and yet she has figured it out.
What's really notable is that this is a pattern in a lot of Sansa/Jon conversations, specifically the ones where they argue in private. Compare this one to the tent scene in 6x09 or the one in 7x01 right after the council or even in 6x07 when they argue about the men they have. We have Sansa and Jon arguing heatedly then the conversation tones down to soft, sad voices and then it ends before resolution can happen, either because they choose to end it there, someone else interrupts or we simply are denied to see it.
Sansa and Jon have been arguing ever since they reunited. Every season they were pitted against each other as the siblings who fought. Now in the final season, it's still brought up and used in the narrative. Meaning that it means something, that it's important to the story. We saw that Arya and Sansa fought in Season 7. It was tied to their old bickering from childhood and ultimately it was resolved and now Arya stands by her sister. Narratively, a conflict plaguing characters has to be resolved when the story comes to its conclusion. Sansa and Jon’s storyline has been going on since Season 6 now, so their relationship HAS TO come to a resolution, one way or another. And it'll be all about Jon finally accepting that he is a Stark and about him accepting that Sansa has accepted it.
#got#game of thrones#sansa stark#got meta#game of thrones meta#jon snow#jonsa#actuallyjonsa#arya stark#got theories#game of thrones theories#got thoughts#game of thrones season 8#got s8#got season 8#game of thrones s8#jon x sansa#got analysis#game of thrones analysis
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Chasing Demons Chapter 13 Preview
Behind? Catch up HERE 😊
“C’mon, Pete, it’ll be better once you get it out,” Dad said.
“No, I’m not really sure that it will,” Peter mumbled. He leaned forward, reaching for his tablet on the coffee table. “I—we—um… we got a new assignment in our Government class yesterday, we’re supposed to choose one of the bills that are pending debate in the Senate and write about it… and when I went looking through them, I—I found—I found—”
He broke off then, shaking his head as he pulled up the bill’s text with the offensive sections already highlighted, and handed it to Papa.
“I found that.”
The penthouse was eerily quiet while Papa read it over, with Peter trying to focus on the sound of Papa and Dad’s distinct heartbeats as he tried to keep himself from just dissolving into a complete sea of panic. His throat was raw from the tears he’d been trying to hold back since the night before, and most of his muscles felt as stiff as iron rods.
And then Papa finished, handing Dad the tablet with the exact look of resigned horror on his pale face that Peter had both predicted and dreaded. His fingers tightened every-so-slightly on Peter’s shoulder as Dad read, almost as though he was afraid that Peter was going to be snatched away from him if he let go.
“Holy shit,” Dad said slowly, his hand holding the tablet dropping to his lap. “Those goddamn sons of bitches are really going for it.”
“Tony—” Papa started, with Dad cutting him off with a single sharp look.
“No, nope, nada. Don't you even try and bring that up right now, Steve,” he warned, his voice rising with every word. He got to his feet, curling his fingers around his left arm as he started pacing back and forth. “Don't you even try and pull that bullshit chivalrous nonsense again, ‘cause I have already told you multiple times that it’s not a goddamn option, so there’s no point in you wasting your breath—”
“And I’ve told you that I’m not going to allow you or Peter to become slaves to the government, or whatever else they’re planning on doing with this!” Papa protested as he got to his feet, taking Dad by the elbow. “Tony, I can’t do it, you know that I can’t!”
Dad’s eyes narrowed as he stared at Papa’s shaking chin. “Well, you're just gonna have to figure out a way then, ‘cause it’s not gonna happen. There is absolutely no way in hell that I’m leaving you to fight this alone! Thor can take Peter, but I’m staying right here and that is it!”
“But what if I don't wanna go anywhere?” Peter cried, immediately clapping his hands over his ears as he broke into a cold sweat. He tipped over sideways on the couch, curling into a tight ball and wishing he could just sink down into the cushions and disappear. His senses were already going bonkers since he hadn’t slept the night before, and listening to his dads shouting at each other was only making it worse. “Why would you think that I’d want to be separated from either of you, isn’t that exactly what the Nazis did? Ripped families apart? Why should we let the government rip ours apart when we can still fight back? Isn’t that the very reason why they’re trying this? ‘Cause they’re afraid we’ll fight back? They just want to control us, that’s all this is!”
Both Dad and Papa turned to look at him, their expressions the exact same mix of pride and anguish. Papa scrubbed a palm down his face as he dropped to his knees in front of Peter, gathering him into his arms and burying his nose into Peter’s hair. He reached a hand behind him which Dad promptly took, allowing Papa to tuck him in close too.
“The last thing in the world that I want is to be separated from the two of you,” Papa said, his voice raw, like he’d been shouting at the top of his lungs for the last three days. “But I know I couldn’t live with myself if I let anything happen to you, not if I thought I could prevent it. And the way I see it, the best way to keep you both safe is to get you as far away from here as possible, and preferably before this bill gets passed. Because I wouldn't put it past them to come banging on our door before the ink is even dry, and that’s just not something that I’m prepared to allow. Not while I’m still alive.”
“Goddamnit, Steve, you don't need to be talking like that,” Dad muttered into Papa’s chest. “You're gonna scare the kid.”
“I’m not scared, I’m mad,” Peter said sharply. Now that his dads knew what was happening, the fear that had consumed him ever since the previous night was being rapidly replaced with anger. “Who do these people think they are, thinking they can just single us out because we're a bit different from them? It’s the worst kind of discrimination, and I can’t believe that you think we should just run away from it instead of fighting back.”
Papa’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, cupping Peter’s cheek in his hand. “You're right, little guy. You're absolutely right that people need to fight back against discrimination like this. But Peter, this is HYDRA, and you're just a child, you have your whole life ahead of you, and—”
“But I’m not a child, why can’t you see that?” Peter snapped, pushing against his papa’s chest and almost knocking him over. “I’m a teenager, and I’m even stronger than you! Papa, you know that! So why can’t I fight too? Why can’t I stand up for myself against the bullies just like you and Dad?”
“Buddy—” Dad started.
“No! Don't give me the same stupid excuses that you always do just ‘cause you guys are scared! I’m not a child—!”
“You’re my child!” yelled Dad. He huffed out a sharp breath as he took hold of Peter’s shoulders with shaking hands. “You're our child, and I don't give a damn how strong you are, or the fact that you call yourself a teenager, you're still our responsibility, and we’re gonna do what we think is best for you whether you like it or not!”
“But you can’t even agree on what’s best!” shouted Peter. He tore himself from Dad’s grasp and shot to his feet, running his fingers through his already wild curls. “You guys have been going round and round about this for weeks already, so which is it? What exactly is the best for me?” He paused for a second, his heart racing so fast that he felt lightheaded. “Sometimes I think you wish that I was still that weak, sickly kid that I always was, instead of what I've become.”
The full chapter will post on Monday, December 9th 😊
#chasing demons#superfamily#stony#iron dad and spider son#superhusbands#superfamily fanfiction#stony fanfiction#iron dad fanfiction#tony stark#steve rogers#peter parker#parent tony stark#parent steve rogers#kid peter#avengers family#gwen stacy#pieces of echoes series#chapter 13 preview#geeky writes
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"Prochnost" takes Oliver and his newfound family (his adult kids just arrived from the future, no big deal) to Russia to track down a way to going up against the Monitor and deal with the impending Crisis, and that apparently means several things: 1) The return of Oliver's (Stephen Amell) good ol' frenemy Anatoly (David Nykl), and 2) Oliver and Mia (Katherine McNamara) get to show off their fighting skills in an underground fight club.
That's no sweat for Mia, since that is, after all, how we met her in the first place. She spent most of her life training with Nyssa Al Ghul, and she's pretty much a pro-fighter. And her dad's the Green Arrow, so basically this should be a piece of cake. It's those long-buried emotions that are going to be the tough part to deal with.
The whole cast is also dealing with their own emotions in real life, as the show just wrapped production on its series finale last week. We hopped on the phone just a couple days after wrap with McNamara to get the scoop on all of it.
E! News: Is it really strange for you guys to have fully wrapped production?
McNamara: You know, it's funny, 'cause yesterday we had one more pickup day where I shot one scene for episode nine and then insert shots and all of this, and yesterday was just such a short day. It was just fun play time with the crew. But the day before was the big day, the last official day of production when Stephen wrapped, and Emily wrapped, and everybody else. There was one scene in particular that we had so many people in that they series wrapped about 10 people when we finished the scene. And that's when I cried, because there are so many possibilities for the future of what the Arrowverse could be, especially for me, but it will never be the same. This is special, this is unique, and you know, the people are what made that show so iconic, and that was really special to be there for that moment.
This next episode is heading to Russia and it looks like there are some really good family moments for Mia and Oliver. Can you talk about what's happening in Moscow?
It's really great for me, because when I found out who I was on the series, I watched the entirety of the show. At that point, it was six seasons worth of Arrow, and one of my favorite moments was Russia. I was absolutely head over heels for David Nykl. I just think he does such a brilliant job, and Anatoly is so fun. He's a fun character where his loyalty is always switching. They're always wondering whether he's going to appear as a friend or as an enemy, and when I found out I was going to get to work with him, I was simply over the moon. I just think he's absolutely brilliant.
Anatoly is such a huge part of Oliver's past, so what can you say about how that factors into the father/daughter bonding? How much is Mia going to learn about his life?
The thing about this is that Oliver is very aware that if he's bringing his children to Russia, there's a lost of his past that could get exposed that he may or may not necessarily want his kids to be aware of. And he struggles with that, and he tries as any parent would to shield and or protect his kids from discovering his dark past, and whether or not he succeeds will be another story, because he happens to have two very smart, strong-willed children who kind of don't follow instructions all the time.
But what's great about it too is you get to see Mia follow in his footsteps in many ways in this episode, and you saw a few moments in the trailer that are very indicative of what the entire episode has in store. It's my first episode where I really got to work with Stephen in an extended period of time and a lot of one on one stuff with him. It's such a great episode to get to watch him and be a part of the story in so many iconic ways.
When I talked to Ben Lewis, he was saying that you guys didn't really know Stephen that well, so the actors were kind of going through the same thing the characters are going through, getting to know this person they knew so much about without actually knowing them. Did you have that same experience?
Absolutely. Most of my interactions with Stephen up until that point had been social interactions or show gatherings or wrap parties or things like that, and that's a different experience than when you're spending a day on set with a person. And it was kind of a wonderful way to get to bring the story to life in getting to know Stephen and getting to know the character relationship and getting to build that very organically. And I think it played out really beautifully on screen, and Mia and Oliver have very similar sensibilities, but also there's a lot of Mia's sense of humor that mirrors Felicity. So you get to see quite a bit of banter between the two fo them, and Oliver's trying his best to be a good dad, but Mia will only accept so much help and direction, and she has a mind of her own and Oliver very quickly discovers that, much to his chagrin.
Mia has quite the past too, and so far she hasn't been very willing to share that with him. Is she going to get to that point where she feels comfortable opening up to him?
I mean, at this point Mia isn't very good at emotional conversations. Her childhood was spent Nyssa Al Ghul, who is also not the best at emotions, so it's interesting to get to see that. But what Oliver does get to see in Mia and what she does get to show him is her fighting skills. It's the first time that Oliver really gets to witness Mia do what she does best, and I think it surprises him, and it's definitely a sense of pride for Mia that she gets to show her father, this is what I do, and this is how I do it, and this is my domain. And it's something that the two of them can connect on and relate on, but it's also...she wants to impress her father. She wants to make him proud, and she has many opportunities to do that in this episode. Whether or not she succeeds is another story, but that's to be seen.
How does he react to finding out his daughter is this badass fighter?
I mean, I think he's worried for her, right? He wants her to be safe and wants her to be OK and to not have to fight for her life, but when he sees it, I think it makes him proud. I mean I can't speak for him, but I would like to think that he sees a lot of himself in her and uses this opportunity for the two of them to work together and to build a future together even in the limited time they have. Because of course Oliver knows that his time, at least according to what the Monitor says, his time is potentially coming to an end, whereas Mia doesn't exactly know that or know the exact timeline of that. I think he has a little bit of reassurance that she's gonna be OK no matter what happens.
Are Mia and William at all worried about the fact that they were just thrown into the past and they left a whole future behind?
There's so much going on that they don't really have time to think about that. All they can do to make the future better is to worry about the present or past or whatever...whatever verb tense we're using. Future, past, present, whatever it is, the time that they're currently in is the time they are concerning themselves with, and that's only by nature of the fact that in the hopes of changing the future, maybe they can affect something while they're helping Oliver complete his mission. Plus I think both of them are overwhelmed by the fact that they're actually having a chance to bond with their father in a way they never had the opportunity before.
Can you talk at all about the backdoor spinoff you filmed? How much more are we going to get to know Mia?
I mean, I can say it's very exciting, and very different, and there's really not much else I can say.
Can you talk instead about the journey that Mia is on for the rest of this season, since we're now halfway through?
We see Mia grow quite a bit this season, and she's very sure of herself in certain aspects of who she is as a person. She knows she's a fighter, she knows she's competent in that realm, and that is where she finds her strength. It's the other side of who she is, the emotional side, the human side that is underdeveloped at this point, and time and time again—we've seen it in the last couple episodes and we'll continue to see it for the rest of the season--she is, and so is Oliver, they both have a lot to work through when it comes to their relationship. His choice to leave her, her having to grow up without a father, her having to grow up in his shadow, the effect that it had on her mother and on her brother, the fact that she never had a chance to have William in her life because of her father's choices. And there's a lot of resentment there.
The one thing she's always wanted in her life has been her father, but in her mind, he's also the reason that her life wasn't what it could have been, and being confronted with him and having to deal with that is a lot for her. And it forces both of them to deal with that uncomfortable elephant in the room. And with the tensions as high as they are given the greater world conflict, it brings things to a head over the next couple of episodes, and it forces them both to deal with it in a very direct way and you get to see aspects of their character that you otherwise wouldn't have. And it definitely leaves a mark on both of them.
Can you tell me everything about the crossover?
That's the one thing I can't discuss, but it is so epic. I was definitely fangirling quite a bit while shooting the crossover.
Seems like a dream if you're a fan of this kind of thing to get to be on five shows at once.
It was pretty great. I mean, I got to kind of have this tour of the multiverse, as it were, while shooting it, and getting to work with everyone and kind of witness everything...it was really amazing. It's something I'll never forget.
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Death & Decorum Part 1: She Wants Revenge
Welcome to Death and Decorum, a 6 part miniseries that I will be posting throughout the month of October. As the title suggests it is not a love story, but one of revenge. I have done some interesting research over the last day or so and will advise you that some of the deaths depicted in this story are rather interesting and based off actual deaths that occurred in Regency England. I am very well aware that this is not going to be everyone's cup of tea, which is why I will only be tagging people who requested to be tagged by liking, reblogging, or commenting on this story's coming soon post. If you would like to be added to the tag, or even taken off, let me know. Full credit for this idea goes to @choiceslife
Warning/Triggers: Vengeful killings, mention of poison, drowning, broken neck
Death and Decorum
Part One: She Wants Revenge
Dusk was starting to fall as an unmarked carriage rolled to a stop just outside a small, out of the way apothecary. “You know what to do,” the countess ordered in a cold, distant voice. The dark haired girl sitting across from her gave a curt nod, her brown eyes shamefully studying the floor. “This is for the goods,” she pressed a coin in the girl's hand. “And this,” she jingled a small, nondescript pouch, “is for you. Twelve pieces of silver. Rather fitting don't you think?” She let out a low, emotionless chuckle when the girl's cheeks blossomed with color.
“I'm no Judas,” the girl whispered, greedily snatching the purse from the countess' fingers. “The only reason I'm doing this is my family-”
“Whatever helps you sleep at night. Now, do be a dear and fetch me what I've asked.” Eyes the color of a winter sky right before a storm bore into the girl, reminding her that the countess was not one to be trifled with. “Don't dally. I still need to dress for dinner.”
“Yes, Your Grace.” The girl gathered the dark skirt of her uniform and reluctantly climbed from the carriage. The Countess watched, a cold smile stretching across her berry stained lips, as the girl entered the shoppe. It hadn't taken much to turn the girl. Word of an ailing father and the promise of silver had been all it took. Judas. Briar. Both had sold their loyalty for twelve pieces of silver and both would have innocent blood on their hands.
It rained, which was only fitting since it matched the raw, coldness building inside Rebecca Young. The sharp, skin piercing drizzle that stabbed at the world, painting it a melancholy gray, also provided the perfect cover for the tears she was incapable of producing. It was a pity, really. She wanted so desperately to feel something other than the icy hatred that was starting to course through her veins. She wanted to be the sort of daughter that dropped to her knees beside the yawning hole where her father's coffin was being lowered, screaming against the injustice of his death. To give into such urges wouldn't be ladylike, so like the good little puppet she'd become she stood quietly between the caterwauling form of her dear, dear step-mother and the sniffling mouse who clung to the arm of the countess' stoic faced son. 'The evil trifecta,' Rebecca thought bitterly. The murderous widow putting on a marvelous show of grief, the tittering twit who was too busy gathering juicy tidbits to gossip about with her betters to realize she was naught but a pawn in game she couldn't possibly win, or the mindless drone who willingly did his mother's bidding no matter how heinous the request. If it were one of those Gothic novels that were so popular, there would be a tragic heroine desperately trying to escape their nefarious clutches. Perhaps that was Rebecca's role. The grieving bastard child, too concerned with whether or not she would be tossed on the streets to properly grief. 'Never,' she curled her lips in disdain, 'I will never accept that role.'
Squaring her slender shoulders, Rebecca raised her chin a notch, her thick sooty lashes lowering over her light brown eyes while she forced herself to focus on the words coming out of the vicars mouth rather than comparing her life to the plot of tragic tale. “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil for thou art with me, thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.” The words struck a familiar chord, one buried deep beneath the gentile facade she'd carefully cultivated to please a grandmother whose love only extended as far as Rebecca's ability to procure a suitable match. For the last month she had stumbled through her own valley of death, letting the nobility slaughter any trace of the village girl that had arrived at Edgewater with a naive excitement shining in her eyes. There had been no comfort, no rod or staff to protect her, while she struggled to win the approval of a father whose life had been stolen by his inconsolable widow. Turning her head slightly, several strands of dark hair sticking to her cheek, Rebecca pierced her step-mother with a venomous look. 'From here on out I shall fear no evil,' she silently hissed, 'and you shall cower before me as I will become Edgewater's very own shadow of death. Vengeance shall have a name and that name shall be Rebecca.'
.“...and said, naked came I out of my mother's womb, and naked I shall return thither; the Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away...”
Rebecca pursed her lips into a tight, grayish blue tinged pucker to keep from yelling. 'Liar! Filthy, filthy liar!' The Lord had given Father life, had blessed Rebecca with his affections for three glorious weeks, but the Almighty surely hadn't taken him away. His life had been stolen, wrung from his body with a poison served up by a 'loving' wife. Rebecca would give the Countess her due; she'd chosen carefully, selecting a poison that mimicked the dreaded yellow fever. 'And now she plays the part of grieving widow', Rebecca internally sneered. 'She's allowed her desperation to turn her into a novel cliché, a desperate villianess willing to sacrifice the innocent in her quest to hold on to something that was never meant to be hers.' The greatest tragedy, was Rebecca would have cared for her like a mother had the viper but shown her an ounce of affection. Instead, the countess had let her own diabolical nature twist even the smallest kindness into a sinister ploy.
“We know not why these tragedies occur.”
The lie slid easily off the tongue of the vicar. If not for the man's love of his own voice, the burial would have already concluded, father planted in the ground. Instead, the vicar continued to spoon feed deceitful words of comfort that allowed the countess to continue her theatrical display, while Rebecca could practically feel the black crepe dress her grandmother insisted she wear starting to melt. The light weight silk wasn't meant for such dampness, nor were the jet embellished slippers she wore beneath it. Not that the countess cared. She had ignored propriety by wearing a rich velvet gown designed to show case her bosom, which heaved mightily with each over exaggerated sob, and hugged her other physical assets. It was humiliating. Bad enough she was going to get away with murdering father but had she not class? Could she not at least put on a good performance and appropriately dress the part? Rebecca's fingers twisted in the delicate lawn handkerchief her grandmother had insisted she openly carry. Appearances, even in death, must be upheld. 'Unless you're the countess, then you ignore propriety in favor of dressing like some Drury lane doxy. It's alright of course, she's a grieving widow.'
“Can you believe her, that dress is absolutely scandalous,” someone behind them whispered. “I'm surprised the Dowager allowed her out in such a dress.”
“It's bait for the next one, no doubt,” another whispered. “I heard the Earl left everything to his bastard.”
Sucking in her cheeks, Rebecca bit down on the delicate flesh. The sharp pain and the coppery taste of blood were a perfect distraction from the drawing room gossip that was starting to seep into the memorial. Turning on them, demanding that they show some respect, would shift the focus off her step mother and onto herself. Aside from the one painfully true smear about her birth, the gossip was centered on the countess and Rebecca would like to keep it that way.
“Worry about her dress all you like, my concerns lie in whether or not she's contagious. If what I've heard is true, she spent every moment in his sick room. Mark my words, we'll be burying her next.”
The truth burned on Rebecca's tongue, begging to be released. She held it in, knowing her words would fall on deaf ears. With the exception of her grandmother, the rest of the world believed that her father truly had somehow contracted and succumbed to the yellow fever. And while it was doubtful that the countess had spent more than a passing moment by her ailing husband's side, that wasn't what society believed. Poor, devoted countess. Twas a pity that poison wasn't contagious. 'It could be,' a voice whispered in her ear. 'No one would question it. They're already suspecting it. Why not give them what they want?'
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