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bokettochild · 3 months

Note

For the febwhump:

Day 10 with little legend in ALTTP and killing a knight for the first time?

Okay, so Legend wasn't really talking (shock and grief do that, it's okay) so this is Fable's POV. I hope you enjoy it!

Rating: Teen

Wordcount: 4,985

Summary: Death is familiar to the little girl who will one day be queen. To the boy she had to ask to be her champion, not so much.

Zelda has never particularly thought about death before.

Sure, mother and father were betrayed and killed by a dear friend, and she knows this, but it’s just as much a fact of life to her as the stones of the castle and the swords in the hands of her grandfather’s knights. Death exists and she’s seen it, seen public executions held for terrible criminals and traitors to the crown, but even to her tender years these things are simply part of life. The people who die are always faceless people who don’t matter anymore, and she’d never known her parents anyway, so why should she mourn for them?

She’s heard the castle staff call her a ‘cold little thing’, but in a world where her destiny is to wait for the next escape of a demon she or her descendants must face, how can they blame her? Especially since most of the staff don’t seem to like her much anyway, or Grandfather. She gets the idea that the king of Hyrule isn’t liked at all by most people, but she doesn’t know why and she’s long since given up asking. The knights only assure her with their loyalty and the servants excuse themselves under the pretext of having chores to attend to.

It’s alright, she doesn’t really care what they think. She doesn’t really care about them either.

That is, until suddenly her maid is dead and she’s being hauled down to a dungeon by soldiers who now do not swear their allegiance with charming smiles, but who march, stone-faced, to lock her up, despite her demands to know what’s going on, what they think they’re doing, and what on earth is wrong with them. She can feel it, a heavy magic settled over them, and she doesn’t blame them for their actions, since she knows they aren’t in control, but that doesn’t make it any less terrifying when she’s tossed into the cold stone cell and left there, locked up like one of Grandfather’s prisoners. Calls into the darkness for answers go unheard, and as the night drags on, all she can do is wish, wish, wish for someone to please just answer, to get her out.

Maybe the servants wouldn’t call her a cold little thing if they could see her curled up in her cell, pretty dress ruined and golden hair dirty, sobbing her eyes out into her skirts, but they aren’t here. She doesn’t even know if they’re alive. She doesn’t mourn them either, although there's some distant idea of sadness that their families might not see them again and that they don’t deserve to die just because of whatever it is that’s happening. Still, death isn’t a very present thought in her mind until at last, she manages to catch wind of what’s going on.

Aganim, her father’s old friend and counselor, who’s been serving her grandfather for some time now, has betrayed them, has taken control of the minds of their knights, and now intends to re-open the Sacred Realm, which her ancestors sealed, in order to- like so many other foolish, foolish people- try and obtain the Triforce. To do it, he must first gain the power of the seven sages and the princess herself, and based on what little she knows of dark magic, she’s rather sure he’s not just going to ask them all nicely.

She needs to get out, desperately. She needs to get out before Aganim uses her magic to open the way to the realm where Ganon is sealed! She needs to get out before he kills her, using her like an offering, just like what almost happened to the Spirit Maiden all those thousands of years ago!

Her wishes and cries to the heavens grow more and more desperate. A call to anyone, just anyone, to please just come and help her!

“Who's calling to me?” The answering voice startles her, makes her pull her head up and look around, trying to see the person speaking. The voice sounds almost like her own, but tired, so tired, and somewhat confused.

She feels the same. She hasn’t been able to rest all day, attending to her studies, and now she’s spending the night in a dungeon, away from feathered pillows and heavy blankets and any small semblance of warmth. She wants out, but here, at last, someone’s heard her.

“My name is Zelda,” she says back, wishes back. She doesn’t think there’s a person here with her, just a voice.

She’s heard those favored by the Triforce can gain strange power, but being able to send and receive thoughts isn’t something she’d been counting on. Still, she’s not complaining, and she’s not going to question it either, just as long as she can get out of here and back to someplace safe.

Oh heavens, is grandfather safe? Will Aganim do anything to him? He doesn’t have powers to use and he’s not much of a threat these days, not without anyone to back him up. Will the wizard maybe let her grandfather go? Just lock him up or hide him or not let him do anything? Is he under control of the wizard too, like the knights?

“I’m Link,” the voice answers, still confused, still tired, still sounding too young to do her any good.

She’s no adult herself, but everyone else is. Still, maybe he can tell someone? Maybe he can send help? At least someone can hear her, she’s not going to give up just because they sound like they’re her age! “Help! I’m Zelda! I’m trapped in the castle dungeons! Please, send some help!”

Like a ribbon slipping between her fingers, the presence she could feel answering her; the warmth and light and ray of hope, slips away, no voice answering in return. She slumps down onto the stone again, sobbing. It’s not fair! She hasn’t done anything wrong! She doesn’t understand! Why is this happening? Why would her father’s old friend do this to them? Why isn’t anyone doing anything? Why is the only one to hear her a child?

Just a boy. Just some kid out there who probably doesn’t know how to get around in a castle or how to deal with a knight or a wizard. Just a kid, and she knows, she knows, kids never get listened to! No one listens to her, and she’s the princess! So why would anyone listen to a random kid? Especially one who tries to say that the princess is in danger, when most people don’t like royals to begin with, and anyway, no one’s going to believe that sort of thing! As far as anyone outside the castle probably thinks, she’s all tucked up in her big bed, just finished with dinner, and drifting off to sleep. Who’d bother to check and see otherwise? Especially if it’s only at the behest of a child!

Maybe some people think she’s cold, but the sobs that ring through the dungeons sound terribly awful to her, and it’s enough to make her cry harder, because try as she might, the sounds and sights of crying just makes her cry, no matter how much she fights it. Her own tears echo back off the stone, like the wailing of some tortured soul, and her mind flies off to what and who might have been here before her.

What sorts of people have lived in these dungeons? Died in these dungeons? Where there ever any little girls like her? Did they die down here? Did they escape? Did they have mums and dads to try and get them out, to hold them, or did they get left down here like she is? Just sobbing and crying with no one to hear them until they died and did whatever dead things do.

The old books say that dead things are monsters that wander around, long and thin with ghastly smiles, and attack heroes and knights when they come too close. What if that sort of a dead-monster is down here? Gibdoes, she thinks they’re called, or is it redeads? Whatever they are, she doesn’t want them to be down here. She’d much rather be alone and forgotten than be found by something so awful.

Except she won’t be forgotten, her mind whispers, and it’s not such a comforting thought as she wishes it was. Aganim knows she’s here, and he wants to keep her here until he’s ready to sacrifice her, split her open and make her blood spill to give power to his spell.

She’s seen heads chopped off before, but they were far away and not important. She didn’t care who they were, because it didn’t matter once they were dead and she couldn’t do anything about it anyway. Will other people think about her that way? Will it not matter? Impa will care, and Grandfather too- if he’s still okay, if he finds out, but who else will care? The knights who are nice to her are now mean and cold, and the servants never liked her anyway. The thought of being forgotten is worse than the idea of turning into a dead monster and trying to eat people- or something, but she’s all out of sobs and her eyes hurt from crying.

It doesn’t matter anyways, no one can hear her either way.

Or, rather, she thought so, only there’s the sound of feet in the hall. Feet that patter softly and do not thud and thump like the heavy boots that knights wear or swish and shuffle like the wizard in his great heavy robe. No, they creep slowly across the stone, slow and unsure, like a deer coming slowly out of the trees. They move quietly and quickly, but hesitate, and that alone tells her it’s not a rambling, long dead evil that wanders the halls, nor a servant or soldier who knows this castle. It's not feet she knows, but foreign feet are her best chance of getting out, so she pulls herself up, wipes away what’s left of her tears, and moves to peek through the bars of her cell and out into the hall.

She cannot see anything but stone. Whomever crafted these cells had no intention of allowing the occupants to see what was happening anywhere save just in front of the door.

She can still hear though. She can hear the quiet, unsure tapping of boots. More importantly though, she can feel, and that delicate, evasive ribbon of hope drifts back into her hands, a light presence making itself know in the darkness around her, like a candle coming alight befgore her tired and puffy eyes.

The boy.

Link.

She isn’t sure why he’s here, alone, but at least someone is trying. It’s more than she supposes some people would do, and at least he listened to her, which is far more than most people have done! His steps are wary, but she calls out, with her mind, like before, rather than her voice, urging him closer, telling him that’s he’s close, almost there. Just a little further and he’ll be here and maybe, just maybe, they can figure out some way to get this prison open, or at least she can tell him what’s going on so he can tell someone else.

If the Sacred Realm is unsealed, Ganon will be set free, and the people of Hyrule are not prepared for that. They need to send warning- she needs to send warning, needs to tell someone and get the word out, to give something to her people so they know that things aren’t as they seem, that they’re sitting on the edge of a precipice, too close to the fiery hell before them. Her history books talk about a time when Ganon won, when he ruled their kingdom. She doesn’t want that for them, especially because she’s heard grandfather say they’ve only just recovered from that war. They can’t take it again. Hyrule needs peace. She doesn’t think peace is likely, but maybe they can stop too much of the world from being hurt by the evil magic, if they stop Aganim before he can do anything more.

The feet stop.

She can hear breathing now, soft and rattling somewhat, like her own does as she tries so hard to look through the bars of her prison. Has he been crying, like she has? Come to think of it, if she, locked up and also away from anything else in here, is scared, how must it be for some common boy who’s probably never been in the castle? Or the dungeons much less? For all she knows, he might have been here before, to visit someone or say goodbye before an execution, but still! He’s got to be at least a little scared too.

She tries reaching out, listening again. His voice had been tired then, but she’d heard it, heard it from far away (because she knows there aren’t any little boys in the castle; she’s the only one her age). She could hear it then, so he, like her, must have been able to catch ahold of her thoughts, sent out like a wish to the stars she can’t see from in here. That means maybe she can reach out and hear his!

Except that the sound of a loud clang makes her jump, startle back and fall over, unable to see what it was that made the sound, but well able to hear what’s happening, and tell that it’s very close indeed. There’s a scuffle, a gasp that shudders before there’s panting, feet skidding over stone and another loud clang.

It sounds like the executioner’s axe on the stone of a courtyard.

“Shit!”

It’s him. It's Link. That's his voice, breathing and panting and gasping as she hears another clang, this time the blade screeching off of stone.

Desperately, she moves along the bars of her cell, trying to see out, trying to catch a glimpse of what’s happening. She’d call out, but Grandfather always told her to keep quiet if she hears things that worry her. Enemies might be close and she should never make it known where she’s hiding, because that puts her and anyone with her in danger, and princesses should not put people in danger if they can help it. So, she keeps her mouth shut, and her ears open.

Light feet dart, this time without hesitation, a hiss of breath that maybe carries soft words on it sounding, as well as the rasping of a second voice, breathing within something. Breathing within something heavy and thick, making it echo. It sounds like a knight, one with one of those very big and scary helmets that Grandfather makes them take off if she’s around, so she can see their real faces instead of the cold iron ones.

She hopes it’s not a knight.

The sound of an axe hitting stone, yet again, says it might be.

Link’s voice is panting, feet darting. She hears a hiss of steel, a sword drawing, and then there are a series of very loud blows. There’s yelps and shouts from Link, but nothing from the heavy, echoing breather, just the slam of an axe, again and again.

She can’t do anything. She can’t help or watch and she can only hear the awful sounds, the cry of pain from what she thinks has to be Link, and the clang, clang, clang of blades on stone, on armor, or on each other. She can only sit. Only sit and hope.

No, she can pray. Grandfather says that her lineage, that mother and grandmother and all of them, that their prayers mean something extra special, because they have power from the heavens. When bad things happen, even if he won’t let her know what, he always tells her to pray. Pray for their people and the kingdom and for him, so he’ll do what he should, or can figure out what to do. She always does. Impa takes her to the little prayer rooms in the castle, or sometimes down to the church, and she offers prayers between her studies and her meals until Grandfather tells her that things are better again. She may not be good at a lot, but she has lots of practice praying, so even though the cell floor is so dirty and the clanging of weapons is nothing like the deep ringing of bells, she still kneels and prays as hard as she can. Prays until she hears a scream and a shout and heavy thud.

The clanging stops.

She keeps praying. Please let Link have won. She doesn’t know how (unless maybe he’s a squire? Yes that could work!) but she needs it to be him who won. She needs to know that the only person who can hear her call for help is indeed the one who’s still standing, because she doesn’t know if she can handle having hope stray so close only to be torn away at the very last of seconds.

Soft, gently scuffing boots creep across the floor again, heavy panting, like a fawn just escaped from a hunter, peeking out to see if it’s safe once more.

“Link? Is that you?” She doesn’t get up, keeps her hands folded, she’s got to be ready to start praying for help again if it isn’t.

The voice that answers back is gentle candle-light and warmth, although it shakes and stammers. “M-Miss Zelda?” She doesn’t have time to get up before feet move closer and then there’s a boy standing in front of her. He’s short, maybe her height but probably a bit shorter, with messy pink hair hastily tucked under a green cap. His eyes are wide and blown out in the darkness, but the lantern in his hand makes them dance a bit too, almost red. Red to match the blood that spatters up and across his front, covers his boots and still touches his hands and the cloak wrapped up around him. “Are you okay?”

She blinks. Is she okay? Why is he asking that? She’s the one who just sat in here, praying, untouched, and he was the one that fought...whatever it is that he just fought. “I’m alright. Are you? You’re covered in blood...”

He winces, looks away, doesn’t look down and instead his flickering eyes dart all over everything else, as if desperate to not think about the fresh crimson all over him. “I’m okay.” And then, a moment later. “It’s....it’s not mine.”

His tunic is ripped a bit on one side, and she can see where damage has been done, but she doesn’t challenge him. Boys are funny, Impa says, and if you tell them they’re wrong they pout and throw a fit and won't listen to you anymore. Link’s the first person who’s listened in a long time; she doesn’t want to lose that. Instead, she just nods, doubtful, but doesn’t say anything. It’s not like either of them can do anything about it anyways. She can’t heal and there’s nothing she can offer him either.

He glances at her, and she recognizes abruptly that his eyes are terribly vacant. He’s there, he sees her, but he doesn’t seem to register anything else, just stare at her dumbly, like he’s not all inside his head.

“Did you happen to see a key somewhere?” It’s sort of a reach, since she doubts that the wizard would make it that easy, but the flickering crimson eyes turn back again towards the way he’d come from, and she can see him shudder, revulsion briefly marring his otherwise rather pretty features.

He nods. “Yeah.” There’s no waiting for her to say anything, just the setting down of the lantern in his hand, an old thing but well-tended, and he moves back out of her sight again. There’s some shuddering and catching of breath, rustling and clanking, and a squelch she supposes might be blood. He’s back again a moment or so later, slower than before, but holding the keys. They’re also covered in blood. He’s got more on him too, but his dull eyes are focused on the door, on unlocking it and pushing it open, and she’s quick to stand when he does.

She will not stay any longer, not now that there’s a way out. She’s not sure which of them took the other’s hand first, but as she tells him where to go, he leading the way with the light and with a still dripping sword on his back, and she following, it doesn’t matter. She follows past the fallen corpse of what she recognizes as the royal executioner, through the halls that run rampant with rats, trudging through sewers and mire and muck. The ground underfoot squelches, making her stomach churn. The quickly cooling blood that smears over her hand from Link’s own only makes it worse, and she fights back the urge to pull away. She has to stay with him though; he’s her only hope and only protector, there’s no other way out and she can’t do this alone.

They walk and walk, and she’d never realized before how many traps and dangers lay between the castle and the many hidden exits it possesses. The tunnel is cold, is wet, is damp, and once they exit again into the outside world, she finds it’s much the same. Rain beats down, lighting flashing overhead and thunder booming in their ears as they dart across the open spaces of Hyrule Field. Now out of the castle, she’s not sure what they ought to be doing, but she follows him. She’s never allowed outside alone, but he’ll know this land well, he’ll have lived here. He’ll know enough to hopefully know a safe place for them to hide. Still, it’s terrifying. She’s never seen the world flash like this, never slipped and tripped and made herself this muddy before. Link wraps her in his cloak, eyes still blank and distant, hands deft and fumbling, and while it’s warmer, by just a bit, it smells terribly of blood. Still, it’s better than nothing.

In time, through the rain, she can make out a familiar structure. Almost like a second home for how often she’s been there; the church rises up before them with it’s spires and glittering windows, bells chiming twice and twice only, just as they’re hurrying up towards the doors. She knows they’ll be unlocked.

They are.

Link pushes them open with some trouble, more than they require at any rate, but it’s only then that she realizes that he’s shaking. Not from cold, she doesn’t think, otherwise it would have started far earlier, he would have been shaking when he first came to her, because he was soaked then too, wet and spattered in muck from the sewers as well as the blood. No, now he’s shaking so violently that she finds herself reaching to take the lantern from his hand the moment they're inside the dimly lit sanctuary.

“Princess Zelda?” The familiar voice of the church Father catches her attention, making her turn from her companion to face the man. It’s two in the morning by the ring of the bells, and she can’t fathom why he’s awake, but there’s a candle burning and the smell of incense in the air, familiar and, like Link himself, an assuring presence that makes her heart stop the pounding in her chest, settling instead with a heavy sigh and soft cry she didn’t know was still left in her.

The Father hurries towards them, and while she’s always been taught to be reverent, she can’t help but throw herself into open arms, shaking and trembling herself as his hand soothes her hair, warm, creaking voice- ancient as the trees she thinks sometimes, sounding in words she doesn’t bother to hear.

They’re brought in and given warm blankets, and the bell-ringer appears to offer them warm tea, which she drinks slowly while the Father sits between them. Relief is a strange thing, a foreign thing, but she accepts it the same way she’s been taught to accept her other confusing feelings, sitting and listening to her heart and letting her mind spin until it finds itself too tired to keep on spinning. Soft prayers and the sound of rain fill her ears, and when at last she’s got a handle on herself again, she turns to look at her savior.

Link is still shaking, arms wrapped tightly about himself and eyes vacant.

She reaches out, not with her hands, but with the thoughts in her head, like before, and this time there’s no sudden noise to disrupt it. Link’s thoughts are far more jumbled and spinning than even her own.

‘-didn’t mean to, I didn’t! I- oh heavens, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to, I really didn’t! I- he's dead, I killed him he died and I- I- oh heaven help! I didn’t want to! I didn’t-” he’s shaking, teeth gnawing his lip and eyes slipping closed. ‘We’re safe, we’re safe, we’re safe. I got Miss- Princess Zelda is safe and I got her here and I didn’t end up crying and I didn’t let her down. God, she must have been so scared, I know I was, let her be okay? It must have been awful being locked up in there! I- I couldn’t-” he’s shaking his head, hands plucking at is sleeves, at the blanket. Even with the rain, there’s still bits of blood stuck about his nails and the cuffs of his sleeves, and he seems acutely aware of that fact. His mind spins so much she’s dizzy just listening, hearing him worry first for her and then be washed over with regret at killing, only to them have his mind drift to death and watching people die and-

Zelda is struck with the sudden realization that Link, unlike herself, is not accustomed to death. She’s seen it enough times that seeing a body only brings disgust and discomfort, but sadness does not wash over her to see an enemy laid low. She’d only thought to avoid the pooling blood as passing the slain knight outside of her cell, but Link is actively experiencing regret for ending said knight’s life.

“Link?

The Father turns at her words, but the boy does not, instead rocking slowly as too fast breaths escape him.

“Link, dear boy, can you hear me?” It’s such a relief to release it to the Father and let him try to get the attention of her savior, the man turning fully towards the curled up little boy, one hand settling on his shoulder.

Link does not respond.

The father’s hand slips to rub across trembling shoudlers, steady, soothing motions as his voice, warm and soft, continues. “I do not know what brought you here at this hour, but you are safe here, my son. It is alright.”

“M-Miss-”

“The princess is alright.” The Father assures. “She is safe here as well, and no one will hurt her.”

There’s a small sob from her companion and she can hear his thoughts, the raging swell of the becoming less and less an effort to hear, instead pushing back against her, pushing out and demanding release, pouring into her own mind with terrifying clarity. Pain, anguish, regret, fear, guilt, overwhelming sadness. The ever-present thought of “be strong for her, she looks so scared” makes something inside her own heart twist up and her own breath catch.

“You got me out,” she murmurs, because speaking aloud seems almost wrong in the silence and peace of the otherwise empty church, “thank you.”

Dull eyes fall, Link burying his face in his arms with a sob that has tears pricking at her own eyes all over again. Shre’s always been weak to tears, a fault that Grandfather has warned her must be controlled, lest it be used against her, but she can’t help but cry along with the boy beside her, even as the Father comforts them.

Maybe she’s used to death, but he isn’t. More so though, he’s the one who swung the blade. He had killed a man, killed for her and soiled hands that no doubt had never caused harm further than a fight with friends or other such mischief that common children are allowed to get up to. Blood is new to him, terrifying still, not something he was raised watching be spilled, not something he expects.

His clothes are soaked with it. Even though a potion was given to him, prompted slowly to his lips and choked down dumbly, he’s got his own blood and that of the fallen knights both spattered over him, staining his clothes. It’s not only theirs though, because her peeks into his thoughts grant her visions of a man, in the same dungeons as they had been, wounded and bleeding out, of this same boy, only moments before finding her, finding said man and pleading, fighting against the flow of blood, of tears on his face and hurt in his heart. He’d lost someone just before coming to her. He’d been blank even before killing, forcing himself onwards to help her, guided only by the final words of the dead man in the sewers. He’d wandered and been chased, had faught a foe three times his own size, been forced to thrust a sword that’s too big for him into the heart of a man after just seeing the effects of the same.

Death is following this boy, biting at his heels tonight, and the more their thoughts bleed together in her head, the more the weight of what has happened hits her.

He’s killed for her, and with the knights taken over and the only ones on her side being the Father and this boy, she might have to ask him to do it again.

#alttp #a link to the past #linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu legend #lu fable #ketto writes #asks and answers #febuwhump #febuwhump2024 #tw death #tw blood

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myconidwitch · 4 months

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EVERYONE, PLEASE HELP ME CONSTRUCT THE NOELLE RAIL LINE OVER HERE:

i need it so that i have safer ways of transporting my soup, and can also transport myself outside of my region (which, for those of you who don't know, has a spell on it which forbids anybody outside of it to know important things about it like location and stuff, which is a problem because normally the only way to get in is teleportation, but i can't do that if i don't know where the destination of the teleportation is located)

myconid witch wizardblr lore:

noelle merianda was the name of a human girl in a town called fand'quer. she had a father whom she loved deeply. one day, her father fell extremely ill. upon finding out about this, noelle immediately tried to find a way to cure him of his illness. she tried medication after medication, but nothing worked. she became so desperate, that she started learning witchcraft, specifically magic soup, in order to heal him. she eventually found a recipe that would work, and attempted to make it. before noelle could finish this stew, her mother found out about it, and was not very pleased. noelle's town has a bit of a history with witches, and upon finding out her daughter was practicing witchcraft, her mother threw noelle out of the house, against the father's wishes. the only thing she was allowed to bring with her was the large pot she used to attempt to make the soup. noelle had to run into the bog near her village, unless she wanted to be executed for witchcraft. she found the tower of a long dead wizard, where she sought refuge. noelle began studying wizardry in that tower, so that she could protect herself against whoever was inside that bog. after spending about 10 years in that tower, eldritch fungi began enveloping her body, slowly replacing it with eldritch flesh. noelle made a decision to never practice witchcraft ever again, due to it being the reason she lost everything. after about 2 more years, she became a full fledged myconid due to all the eldritch fungi, which gave her the ability to talk with sentient mushrooms. noelle started making friends with a lot of sentient mushrooms by keeping them company and making food for them, while the sentient mushrooms in turn searched for ingredients for food. during one of their searches, noelle's favorite mushroom became sick, similar to her father, and she knew what needed to be done. she wiped the layers upon layers of dust off the old pot, and started making magic soup. she used every bit of knowledge she had about magic soup to be able to heal that mushroom. this time however, nothing got in the way, and she was able to heal them. after this, she began learning as much as she could about magic soup, having regained her love for it.

gonna keep adding other stuff onto this post as time goes on

at 150 followers i'll draw my mutuals, well at least the ones i've interacted with

↑ ok so to be more specific, since im absolutely NEVER going to get the drawing finished if i draw an actual character (i'd get demotivated before even starting lol) im gonna just have to draw something that symbolises the mutuals.

oh also the drawings will all be on one paper and be stacked on top of this absolute MONSTER of a pinned post

#wizardblr #lore

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literary-illuminati · 8 months

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Book Review 49 – Some Desperate Glory by Emily Tesh

Introduction

I forget who initially recommended me this book, but I owe them an incredible debt. Really the only disappointing thing is that I hadn’t heard of it even sooner, as this really is just perfectly tailored to appeal to me specifically. First science fiction/fantasy novel I can remember reading in a long time that I actively wished was longer. As a testament to how much I liked this book – this review is long enough to need subheadings.

So! Some Desperate Glory is a space opera, following Kyr (Valkyr, technically), a 17-year-old cadet and genetically enhanced ‘warbreed’ golden girl of Gaea Station – that being the quasi-fascist statelet of militant dead-enders who fled to a desolate planetoid in a dead system to continue the war after aliens destroyed the earth/most of humanity. After she gets assigned to Nursery (read: breeding the next generation of soldiers) instead of a combat wing and has a crisis of faith, she talks herself into running away to help her brother on the suicide mission terrorist attack he was deployed on. With the help of one of her brother’s friends and a captured alien, she manages it, discovers that her brother had absolutely no intention of actually following orders once he’d made it out, and take it upon herself to do her own, better, terrorism. From there the plot gets weird, and I’m going to spoil it shamelessly talking about it, but if you value surprises when reading at all just stop this review and go read it.

The Heroine

Kyr is, and I say this lovingly, the most insufferable bitch of a 17-year-old military brat I’ve ever spent time in the head of (at least at first). Even compared to the other indoctrinated child soldiers she’s the cop nobody likes. She then spends the first third to half of the book unlearning this indoctrination, by which I mean very arduously and painfully reaching a point of ‘the fascist cult was a corruption and black mark on the good name of the death cult vengeful crusade, I’ll do it better’ and ‘it’s probably okay to not, like, personally hate aliens who were too young to have been alive when the earth was destroyed. Torturing them for no reason is wrong, like abusing animals was, back when there were animals’. She spends the entire book expecting on a bone-deep level to get herself killed for the cause, and at the end of the book is only like 10% of the way better (one of the last beats in the entire story is, standing with one of her only friends and sure they’re both about to run out of life support, offering to snap their neck for them because ‘asphyxiation’s a nasty way to go’). Whenever she is confronted with the idea that some people aren’t constantly aware of the possibility of physical violence or get to live their lives as something other than a bullet in the gun seeking vengeance for a dead planet she wants to scream and smash things at the unfairness of it all. I adore her.

Honestly my only real complaint is how quickly she starts mellowing out in the second and third acts of the story. There’s extenuating circumstances (whole extra life of memories, time loop bullshit, forcibly confronted with what she said she wanted and what it looks like, etc), but past the one real big hump it did rather feel like her character development suddenly became a bit smooth and easy/. This is one of the things I’m talking about when I say I wish the book was longer – everything after the first big climax and the time travel/universe editing felt kind of rushed and abbreviated.

As far as being a #problematic fave goes, Kyr was also very carefully kept from being, like, directly personally culpable for anything really unforgivable. Which I do understand why from a wanting people to sympathize with the racist homophobic fascist child soldier, but like – you’ve already introduced time travel and retroactivity. C’mon, don’t get cold feet now. Let her and Avi really share the ‘killed trillions in a universe that retroactively never happened’ credit.

Also, and entirely tangentially – you know how in a lot of action shows, the hero has incredibly emotionally tense rivalries and/or camaraderie with other guys, and then also an extremely conventionally feminine girlfriend off to the side somewhere who does like two things in the entire story and mostly seems to exist to prove he’s straight? Kyr has that, except she is textually gay (if incredibly repressed about it and like 90% of the way to asexual in terms of libido). Sorry Lis, but you are literally barely a character. Cleo’s right there, and already has a personality that’s more than two bullet points and is actually involved in the plot in ways beyond ‘love interest’.

Gaea Station

The shitty fascist asteroid habitat that Kyr grew up on is (if barely) the primary setting of the story, and as far as portrayals of incredibly unbalanced and fundamentally broken society just full of cultlike and ultranationalist neuross. I kind of love it as a dystopian setting, though I feel like the author kind of over-egged the pudding on it by the end of the book.

Society is organized into what feels like an intentional parody of a lot of YA dystopia setups, where you live in a tightly integrated mess all through adolescence (each with their own heraldic animal to idenity with!) but then at 17 your exams determine the branch of society you will be assigned to for the rest of your life to do your duty for humanity. Of course, unlike most YA dystopias, the System isn’t the result of some leviathan-state ruling the fates of millions or a tradition that’s going back generations upon generations – it’s a ramshackle mess that can barely consistently feed its warrior elites enough protein slop to take advantage of their genetically engineered hormone levels for muscle growth. It’s all so clearly and intentionally artificial and fake that it loops around to feeling extremely realistic.

Also do love how the elder generation all have names like Joel or Ursa or Elena, while the younger generation are all Valkyr and Magnus and Avicenna and Zenobia. The only really surprising thing is that they don’t specifically call out how children are raised in common and without individual families as following Plato’s Republic – it’s exactly the sort of attempt to create a grand unifying mythology for all of Earth’s true and vengeful children.

I really do wish Tesh had trusted the reader a bit more about it, though. Like, we can tell that almost all the names of the younger generation are either historical figures form the Mediterranean/Greco-Roman world or Norse mythology (with a few exceptions like Avicenna who fit the general aesthetic if not those exact conditions), which puts a bit of a lie to the whole ‘pan-human’ bit. It’s a clever bit of characterization through worldbuilding! You don’t need to call it out twice in dialogue between characters and then again in an in-universe scholarly essay excerpt at the start of a chapter. I can’t complain too badly though, she’s really not even close to being the worst for that I’ve read recently.

One thing I did like especially because I don’t think it was ever called out and brought front and centre is just the sort of, like, perfect irony of both Kyr and her brother Magnus – ‘warbreed’ engineered supersoldiers with physical capabilities beyond any baseline human, blonde aryan ubermensch, the golden children and eugenic future of Gaea Station/true humanity – both being queer and totally unsuited to their assigned gender roles. If it was, like, specifically brought up in a big monologue as disproof of the Gaean ideology or something it’d feel much too on the nose, but as just a set of facts underlying the characterization of the protagonists I liked it quite a lot.

Trio Dynamics

They don’t actually have all that much pagecount spent together, now that I think about it, but as far as I’m concerned the absolute heart of the story is the dynamic between Kyr, Avi (Avicenna, genius-level hacker and cynical rat bastard discontented Gaea Station restaurant) and Yiso (young and rebellious Prince of the Wisdom, taken captive by Gaea when they’re personal ship came too close and then liberated/kidnapped by the other two in their escape attempt). It’s peak trauma-bonding in that the first time it involves a) Avi torturing Yiso to force the alien supercomputer to let him access it and b) Kyr shooting Avi in the head after he uses access to the supercomputer to wipe out 90% of galactic civilization as payback for the whole ‘destroyed Earth with an antimatter missile’ thing (she got a case of morals when confronted with what ‘winning’ would mean. Also her brother shooting himself.)

By all rights they should absolutely hate each other and after two temporal recursions and oceans of retroactively unspilled blood on all their hands they’re the only people who even slightly understand each other. At one point Kyr tells Yiso ‘just so you know, I don’t really care about you as a person,’ and then immideately thinks ‘that was a lie. Why did I say that?’ Avi and Kyr both deprogram themselves from the cult that raised them but only the ‘loyalty to the cult’ bits and not the ‘alien race war vengance death cult’ bits. Yiso meets Kyr in an atemporal training simulation and gets retroactive Stockholm syndrone even though the first time they actually meet she breaks their ribs for repressed teenager reasons. They all drive me absolutely insane and I absolutely adore them. Even if Avi’s redemption felt waaaaay too rushed and unjustified in the final recursion, willing to forgive it here.

Time Loops

The big twist of the story is that, having fucked up and enabled Avi taking vengeance for Earth by doing the same thing to every other alien species, Kyr jumps into the alien supercomputer time manipulation buisness wholesale and goes back to prevent the destruction of Earth. Which then fast forwards to her being a newly minted officer in the Terran Expeditionary Fleet that is the imperial power dominating the known galaxy in increasingly high-collateral damage ways as time goes on. Yiso, in this timeline the beating heart and soul of the main alien resistance group, seeks her out and restores her memories and they go back to try and hijack the alien supercomputer before the government office whose hijacked its crippled remnants (as helmed by the alternate-timeline version of Gaea Station’s great leader, now a fleet admiral of the ‘Providence’ division) manage to literally destroy the universe.

It is mostly down to all the fanfic I’ve read, but I really, really adore timeline divergences that ropagate out and leave all the major characters different but similar people in alien yet appropriate situations. I also adore time travel stories about someone turning the timeline into swiss cheese trying to brute force their way to the one and only golden ending. So I adore this whole conceit. Really my only complaint is that there were only two (one and a half, really) recursions. Not that I’m demanding a full groundhog day here. But, like, it’d have been nice. And Kyr/Avi/Yiso continuously bumping into each other in different configurations and usually ending up at gunpoint would have been ann absolutely amazing bit.

Space Orcs

I can’t be sure Tesh actually had any exposure to the whole online meme of ‘humans as space orcs’, but I do and it’s really impossible to read the book as anything but an examination of the idea. Compared to every alien species ever encountered, humans are tall, heavy, muscular, impulsive, and violent. In a one-on-one confrontation they’ll snap any other species’ neck. The very first pages of the book are an excerpt from an in-universe text writing for an aliens about how actually really humans are very intelligent, and then talking about how threat displays and ‘human culture’. In the original timeline they even fit into the usual social niche of orcs in a lot of fantasy these days – the scattered and diminished remnants of a brutal empire that was defeated and mostly-exterminated in their attempts to conquer the universe.

The book’s handling of this doesn’t really have a point, as far as I can tell – the worldbuilding’s sufficiently divorced from anything real that trying to call it a commentary on racism or genocide or conquering empires is a stretch. (It is after all a fundamental point of the book that the obliteration of earth and extermination of the vast majority of humanity really was the only way the Wisdom could prevent the Terran Federation from conquering the known galaxy. Which is I’m extremely sure not something the author intends to be a historical analogy.) I found it a fun bit of worldbuilding and interesting subversion of normal space opera tropes regarding humanity’s relative abilities, anyway.

Theodicy

Is an incredibly pretentious way to title this section, but also in a sense kind of the core of the book’s plot? In an interesting way, and I think it’s really the book’s greatest weakness that it doesn’t explore or grapple with it enough.

Which is to say – the Wisdom is at the heart of galactic civilization. It’s an alien AI with vague but vast (though limited) reality-warping and precognitive powers. It does not rule the civilizations that accept it, but guides them as a benevolent god towards best, happiest outcomes with whatever support they ask for or need. To determine what ‘best’ means, it creates its Princes, vat-grown heirs to the dead species that created it, with a lifespan of millenia spent going through simulations and interacting with the world to provide the data and decision-making it requires to make that sort of strategic decision.

The Terran Federation’s attempt to reverse-engineer or hijack the Wisdom put it in a situation where the only solution its princes could find was to destroy the better part of humanity and even more of their industry and culture. Through the plot of the first acts of the book, Kyr and her genius-level-hacker friend hijack a node of it and Kyr convinces/forces it to accept her decision-making instead of its prince (who they just killed). This results in an explicitly colonialist human empire ruling over aliens as oppressed subjects, and using the half-wrecked and poorly understood Wisdom to eliminate threats before they occur (shunting the reality backlash off to alien worlds they don’t care about). The next acts of the book mostly resolve around fixing or reverting this, and end with Kyr diving back into a node and having another conversation with it.

A conversation which is basically it giving up. It reverts things back to the human-genocide timeline, then shuts down its infrastructure and goes dark, leaving the entire mostly pacifistic and loosely governed galactic civilization it had protected suddenly on its own. Humanity were such assholes we found a loving god and then convinced it to kill itself.

Which, like, could 100% totally work. As far as high concept short story prompts go its incredible. But as far as actually driving the action goes the Wisdom is the one who makes the most important deciisons in the entire book, and determine the entire shape of the plot. For it to land, it really really needed more than two and a half short conversations on screen, at least to me.

TL:DR

Good book, lesbian doing space atrocities, should have been longer.

#book review #sff #some desperate glory #emily tesh #lesbian space atrocities #space opera

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jelzorz · 6 months

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The Crack Quartet Timeline BC I'm sleep deprived and obsessed. Some housekeeping before we get into it:

For those unaware, the canon crack quartet, as @raayllum and I like to refer to them, is rayllum and the following insane trio of ships: claudiez, sorpeli, and corterry

You read that correctly

I got dragged onto this boat unwillingly so now all of you have to suffer too.

These are my hcs and I've already written some of it into fic (linked for convenience). Some of these @raayllum and I share but they also have their own separate ones and these are specific to what I've written already

It's important to note that the crack quartet can only ever take place 10-15 years from the end of canon. Everyone involved by this point is a fully consenting adult. Please keep this disclaimer in mind before you all start coming at me.

Now that that's out of the way

Some of you may have read the seed, so you may know already that I hc Soren and Corvus to be pretty steady at least until the end of the war, where the trauma is too heavy for both of them to be healthy about it. Soren ends the relationship and Corvus informally leaves the council. He's always preferred the serenity of the forest to the hustle and bustle of the castle anyway, and he returns every now and then to give Ezran reports about how things are going among the surrounding towns. It's on one of these journeys that he meets Terry, and their passing knowledge of each other is what gets them talking over a drink in a tavern. Corvus is doing his job and listening for gossip. Terry wants know if he's heard anything about Claudia. All the drama aside, it's nice to see a familiar face and to talk about old times.

In Katolis, Ez and Rayla bully Opeli into taking self defence lessons with Soren after she insists Ez keeps up his swordfighting lessons when she herself has never touched a weapon in her life. If you haven't already read the seed, this is how sorpeli starts. Soren and Opeli have been p good friends for years now, and he has never considered her a mother figure the same way Callum and Ezran might have. He was essentially an adult when everything started so he hasn't ever really needed that guidance, but he's always had a ton of respect for her too. He is 24/25ish when he realises he's caught feelings. He asks her to dance at Callum and Rayla's wedding. He starts having tea with her in the mornings and walking with her to Temple Hill (ia163a)

Claudia tries to leave but the other medics beg her not to. They need her help and her knowledge of medicinal herbs and potions. There's no one to replace her. She stays for a little longer, intending to leave the following week when a cart arrives bearing equipment and support and the king's seal. There is also a letter addressed to Lissa. In it, Ez promises her that her secret is safe, and that she will always have a home in the castle if she wants it.

The month before Callum and Rayla's wedding, the kids are called away to a skirmish in a little town near the border. Ez goes for a wander through town to assess damage and how much they'll need in funds to repair everything when he finds a small clinic that desperately needs financial support. This is where he finds Claudia. She is tending to the medicinal herbs in the garden when he rides past. She's been going from town to town trying to make up for all the trouble she caused by assisting in their clinics and apothecaries under the name Lissa. Ez recognises her immediately. He knows he should tell the others. He does not. He is 14/15.

Callum, snake boi that he is, is Not Having It. Claudia is thrown into a cell on arrival and he insists on exiling her as a minimum but Ezran, who's been in contact this whole time, knows she's been trying to make amends for her mistakes. He demands a trial on her behalf. Soren agrees. Opeli, as a stand in for Justice, argues that a trial is the fair thing to do. Rayla looks at Ezran, realises something else is going on, and agrees that a trial is the better way to go. The sentence her to service within the castle. Callum is Not Happy about it. (ia165)

For a while, everything is fine. Callum and Rayla get married, and castle life is pretty stable in amongst the political squabbles and the trips to quell conflicts in the surrounding towns. Soren hangs out with Opeli pretty regularly. Ez is writing letters to Claudia and personally funding the clinic she works at. Callum and Rayla start trying for a baby. Rayla falls pregnant three years after their wedding. She is 20ish weeks along when Claudia comes home.

This is one of the biggest disagreements Ez and Callum ever have. Rayla does her best to placate them both but she is also pregnant and doesn't want to deal with it. Frustrated that his brother won't trust his decision making and keeps treating him like a child, Ez spends more and more time with Claudia, who trusts him and treats him like an adult, until they're courting in all but name. Callum HATES this but reigns it in for Rayla's sake who's stressed enough. She goes into labour at the end of that summer and suffers a post partum haemorrhage so bad that the only thing that can fix it is Claudia's knowledge of Xadian herbs. The midwives kick Callum out of the room to let Claudia in and Ezran lets them. Rayla and the baby are both fine thanks to Claudia but Callum is FURIOUS with Ezran for allowing it to happen.

Opeli miscarries. She collapses during a council meeting, and it all comes out while the castle doctor and Claudia are attending to her. Callum and Ezran realise how stupid they've been because of the way they hadn't even noticed and they are speaking to each other again by the time Opeli is in recovery. Callum accepts Ezran and Claudia's courtship and does his best to process both this and Soren and Opeli (ia164) and things settle down again for a little while. Opeli resigns from her post as High Cleric and attempts to do the same from the council but Ez refuses her resignation and keeps her on informally. Soren and Opeli are married in a quiet ceremony. Opeli finds herself pregnant again six months later.

They're so caught up in the drama that no one notices Soren and Opeli having drama of their own. They are now having secret, hurried meetings in each other's quarters, knowing how absolutely Forbidden it is, especially for Opeli, both because of her age and her position as High Cleric, but they can't stay away from each other until Opeli starts throwing up in the mornings and she breaks it off in her panic. Rayla is the only one who notices and goes investigating. She is the only one Opeli allows to know of the situation. Rayla goes to Claudia to find the appropriate herbs to help Opeli with her Dilemma, and Claudia figures it out on her own 1) because she knows her brother, and 2) she's not an idiot. Rayla takes the opportunity to thank her properly for saving her life and their friendship begins here, while the boys are still at odds with each other. Opeli does not take the herbs in the end. (the fruit)

Viren returns to the castle that same year. It's Claudia's return all over again: Callum demands he be executed on the spot. Ezran wants to give him a trial. Claudia begs them not to kill him through her courtship with Ezran, her relationship with Soren, and her friendship with Rayla. Soren votes no, for himself and for Claudia. Rayla votes yes because, tentative friendship with Claudia aside, she can't trust Viren, especially not with her and Callum's little one running around. Ezran votes no because he wants to be a better king. Clio, the new High Cleric, Opeli's old 2IC, votes yes as the stand in for LJ. Barius, too soft hearted, votes no. Opeli is the deciding vote. She also votes no and all hell breaks loose all over again. (the snake).

Anyway, this is where we're up to. Obviously there will be more as I update the snake but I don't wanna give anything away BC hooo boy that drama is a doozy. I know, okay, these ships are Insane but the extrapolation you can do is just so Delicious and the drama is absolutely *chef kiss*

Now with part 2: electric boogaloo

#rayllum #sorpeli #claudiez #corterry #canon crack quartet

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littlest-nightingale · 2 months

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little! 13th Doctor because I've talked ab her as a caregiver but not as a little:

• oh my god. she is a DISASTER

• she goes to great lengths to hide her regression/not regress. like she is FIGHTING IT

• about... 1-3 years old? she's little little

• i genuinely don't think she had an entirely pleasant regression the entire time she was the doctor. i actually think she was that miserable. like maybe there were some regressions that were enjoyable but i think she was lonely and upset most of the time

• she was absolutely desperate not to let the fam know. She didn't want them to think she was weak, and she definitely didn't want them to see her when she was so helpless.

• part of it was definitely because this regeneration was a woman! lots of people started treating her differently when she regenerated into a woman, and part of that was that people thought she was weaker or dumber or more incompetent. So she definitely didn't want people to know she regressed! she didn't want to be viewed as more incompetent than people already seemed to view her as.

• it was also because she was running from her issues. regression takes away what little filter she does have. if she was to regress and say something about the stress she was under, the fam would definitely start pushing her to talk about it, which she very much doesn't want to do!

• finding out about the timeless child ordeal broke her. She had an entire childhood she couldn't remember because it was taken from her! and, because we know she could remember little glimpses of it, what if regression allowed her to remember. little bits and pieces. little glimpses into tecteuns experiments. maybe even the few times she was forced to regenerate.

• after finding out, regression wasn't safe for her! memories she wasn't even supposed to have started slipping through the cracks, and unfortunately, her regression isn't entirely voluntary.

• it didn't help that she spent 19 years in isolation immediately afterwards. she was stuck in that cell and she would regress and she would remember and there was nobody there to help her through it.

• and even afterwards, she didn't open up about it. ever. She pushed through, she regenerated, and that was it.

• in terms of regression gear, she has quite a lot. that doesn't mean she uses it.

• 10, 11, and 12 were also regressors. 10 got a metric fuckton of regression gear and that collection has been modified and added on to with each new regeneration.

• most of this is kept in a nursery/playroom originally made for 10, which she has asked the TARDIS to hide down the longest hallway she could generate (sometimes the TARDIS pushes the room forward. 13 doesn't take that well)

• she keeps one stuffed animal in her room. one raggedy stuffed giraffe clara had gifted 11. it is hidden under her bed next to a teether and a box of stim toys

• given her just. general autism. and how she is. she can get away with alot. she can have stim toys. she can stop talking. she can have cute onesie pajamas. you get the idea. so at least she has that.

• but stepping away from the absolute misery, here's some happier ones:

• i think there were positive regression triggers, even if she suppressed it. like at Yaz's grandma's wedding, when they were doing the henna tattoos (i believe that's what they were? im not too familiar with the culture, excuse me if i am wrong and feel free to correct me) as well as the fez, and getting her new clothes!

• She has a tamagotchi! She is very good at taking care of it, despite it all. She also has a ds with Nintendogs, which was previously used by 11. it's modded so she can have more dogs than the game allows =]

• she has matching bracelets with her giraffe plush!

• Shes got a blanket with stars on it, sometimes she lays on top of it with her nightlight on because. sparkly

• she draws on herself. yes she has paper yes she could draw on a more permanent surface but it's more fun to draw on herself

#14 has sooooo much to fix. srry m8. at least you've got Donna to help. have fun LMAO #she is MISERABLE #and NOT DEALING WITH IT IN A HEALTHY MANNER #sfw age regression #agere #fandom agere #doctor who agere

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ronearoundblindly · 2 years

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Super-Human Resources

Steve Rogers x older!Reader continued from this ask from @nana1000night

Prompt: What if the reader is older than Steve, like...10 years maybe(?) She could see his shyness, ambition, and gentleness when they first meet. She never thought Steve would fall for her because of their age gap and she's insecure about herself...

Warnings: this is very rough for me, really dialogue-heavy and not balanced, etc. I may return to elaborate or edit, but I'm desperate to get on with the end of Dignity. I loved--loved--this dynamic and could totally see this being a bigger thing. I boiled it down to this fluffy/angsty/cute-ending thing. Some language and implied smut. Serious miscommunication.

[adorable dividers that I am obsessed with by @silkholland]

Steve sets down the tablet victoriously. “And…that’s all of the recruits, so let me know what else you’ll need to start the new hires on personnel benefits. We’ll meet back—“

He finally glances at the clock. It’s 6:40 pm and he’s been talking at you for two hours.

“Why didn’t you stop me? I’m sure you have to go home to…”

You offer him the same studied smile you always try to and gently shake your head. “I figured we could just push through and get this over with. That way you didn’t have to make another trip down here tomorrow.”

Steve frowns. “But someone must be waiting for you?”

Way to rub it in, Cap. “No,” you assure him, packing up your laptop and a few files in your old leather briefcase. “No one.”

“No plans? It’s Friday. Don’t people…what is it that people go out and do these days?”

“Alexis next door seemed pretty excited about a pub crawl a few hours ago. Though in another few hours she might regret that. Actually, she’s probably too young to really notice a hangover,” you joke, pushing out your chair when you’re ready to go.

He rushes to stand. “Then at least let me…offer you dinner here. You won’t have to—“

A hand up is all it takes to rein him in. “Not necessary, sir. I’ll be fine at home.”

“I’ll walk you out,” he jumps politely, opening your office door so that you have to squeeze past his beefy body into the empty hall. Everyone really has gone home.

He shoves his hands in his dark jean pockets, and you regulate your breathing as best you can all the way to the door.

“Beautiful bag,” Steve says just as you two reach the lobby.

“Oh, thank you.”

“Looks well-loved,” he adds softly, running one finger along the top seam.

Why is that so sensual? He’s touching a bag. Get it together.

You giggle nervously. “Yes, very—“ adjusting the strap closer on your shoulder “—it was my high school graduation gift. Sent me off to college like a real professional, but I guess that makes it…pretty old.” The flutter in your gut wavers your voice slightly. You can’t wait to leave.

“Still pretty though.” Steve looks you dead in the eyes, and your heart stops.

You gulp finally, breaking from the crystal clear blue gaze that holds you so softly in a make-believe universe for that split second. “Have a good night, sir.”

“Yes, ma’am.” His eyes follow your movements out. “You, too.”

Even when you’re fresh and clean, the long work day washed away, the mirror doesn’t lie. You look tired, skin duller than you remember, eyes crinkling at the corners more than before, a few additional grays dusting your temples.

It’s so stupid to think of him that way, to think he’s looking at this and seeing anything he likes more than he’d find on that gorgeous young hire the next office over or that toned and bright-eyed recruit down the hall or…well, anybody, really.

Your flesh reminds you more of the stretched and worn leather of your briefcase every day. You’ve collected more products to correct you, things designed for anti-you to no avail.

But.

Even if it’s not real, even if it doesn’t mean anything, it’s so nice to be looked at by Steve Rogers. You have to remember he’s not actually interested; he’s just a gentleman raised to be kind.

He does it again. Not right away, but a few weeks later, Steve yammers on about two dozen employee ‘incidents’ that aren’t really incidents for you to handle. You can advise him on which representatives to speak with about follow-up actions with the other agents, or techniques to facilitate healthy dialogue on the subjects, but no more. Please, no more.

5:58 pm and you swear Steve has checked the clock at least three times. He has to know he’s gone over, but he also knows you have nowhere to be and no one special. Shit. That’s pathetic. You should have hinted at some sort of life outside of work.

“Pardon the interruption,” F.R.I.D.A.Y chirps over the intercom system, “but Captain Rogers, your delivery has arrived.”

“Thank you. Be right up.”

Saved by the AI. “I’ll let you get to it,” you say, smiling and rising from your seat.

“Oh, it’s just dinner. Enough for two.” He motions you to the door like before, his gaze a hair more piercing. “I…brought the pub crawl to us, if you’d like to join me?”

The air conditioning blasts into your office like the frigid arctic, but you are sweating suddenly. You’re covered from head to toe, layered to hide all those ‘indecent’ things about the aging body that no one, young or old, likes to be reminded of. Even if you were muscular with perky curves, your skin is looser and there’s a permanent crease down your chest, the wrinkle from consistently sleeping on your side at night. Higher necklines and longer sleeves became mandatory for you five years ago.

He leads you to the elevators with a light hand at the small of your back. He’s had two dozen beers, one can or bottle of each brew, sent in with an enormous tray of finger foods. You think about adding that you don’t eat that much, though it all looks good and you’d like to eat more—you don’t want to look like a pig in front of Captain America—but he eats over 80% of the tray without batting an eye.

“Metabolism,” he shrugs when your eyes go wide at his fourth full plate.

Must be nice. “I don’t remember what one of those is like,” you quip back.

You two split each beer, and while the cups are small and Steve drinks about two-thirds of them all, you’ve consumed your own six-pack by the end. Conversation became a lot lighter at some point—maybe sample four or five?—and Steve’s thrown out some candid moments about his struggles with modern life.

You agree with him about online dating: horrid. You agree it’s difficult getting to know new people when there’s an expectation of labeling everything (or not labeling anything.) Steve would not have been a free-love hippie, it seems, if he’d been awake during the ‘60s and ‘70s. It’s difficult to know what to do or say around women for him. He says it’s easier around you.

“Maturity deflates that 'pressure to impress' pretty quickly,” you chuckle, a hiccup latched at the end. Damn, is it the alcohol or the carbonation? Maybe it’s simply because there’s no pressure to be coy around someone who can’t be interested in you? Either way, you take another bit of food and forget to worry about how your midsection looks sitting in the chair comfortably, unbuttoning the first two buttons of your blouse. That A/C isn’t helping much again.

“Another drink, ma’am, or more water?”

“Makes me feel old when you call me that.”

“I say it out of respect, but it’s also. I feel like a…a teenager around you, ya know, nervous.” He slides his hand up and down his leg, blushing.

“It's alright. I’m not going to report you for treating me with respect, Steve.”

“And if I don’t?”

It’s so quiet, you’re not sure you heard right. You take a huge swig of water to justify how loudly you swallow that feeling, that sizzling longing that creeps up like kudzu, taking over your body. Liquid coats your throat, mouth, and lips, yet you’re bone dry with nothing to reply. “Don’t do what?” Did he just threaten to not treat me with respect? As in…something disrespectful? Like…sinful?? Is it a sauna in here?

“I think you’re sexy,” Steve firmly breathes.

You snort—because what else do you do in a dream that’s so ridiculous it gave itself away?—and swirl the rest of your water around, guzzling it. You’ll need to wake up to pee soon if there’re this many fluids involved. Does beer make you dream weirdly? It must if it conjures this subconscious scene. Any minute now, you’ll wake up. You’ll see.

“That’s..uh..a little inappropriate, Captain,” you glob out between clearing your throat and squirming in your chair, “but it’s a good line.”

“I can keep them to myself, my inappropriate thoughts—“ you choke and sputter for a moment, but he continues “—if that’s what you want.” Steve leans forward over his knees, eye-level with your chest and peering up through his lashes while emphasizing a rugged, “ma’am.”

Your body vibrates off of your chair and automatically steps to add some distance between you. Part of your job is anticipating problems and conflicts before they arise, but you’re blind-sided by Steve’s attention. No, can’t be. If the blood rushing past your ears is this loud, perhaps you heard wrong?

It’s a blur of blue eyes. You’re rattled by his deep timbre, coherency drowned out by fizzy, hoppy, wheat water. The moment Steve’s chest touches yours, and he leans down, thumbing at your temple with a heated palm on your cheek, you have to close your eyes to ground yourself because nothing you’re seeing can be real.

“We’re both adults,” he whispers, the words heavy and dripping down your insides to your core. “We both want the same thing, so we should just—”

“Yes.” You cut him off, crashing your lips to his.

His other hand spreads across your hip and ass.

“Show me how to please you.”

With that, Steve uses your melting gasp as an invitation to claim your mouth.

Steve Rogers really didn’t have anything to worry about. Even without extensive sexual experience, he’s a fast learner. So attentive. You throw him a bone with some advice now and then, a pointer or two, something just to show you remember the deal.

“Most women don’t like ____.”

“Some women prefer ____.”

“Not everyone will do ____.”

Steve takes it all in stride, and he also gets better and better at listening, turning the conversation back to you. Anything he likes in bed, he’s sure to check-in if it’s alright with you. He’ll make someone (or many someones, no judgement) very happy someday.

He takes your cues on giving you space so that he won’t seem clingy to a potential girlfriend. He regularly texts to ask how your day is going or has gone. Best of all, he remains stone-cold professional at work. That makes the most sense for when this arrangement needs a clean break.

Until then, the sex is unbelievable, and it’s so freeing to not worry about keeping yourself lady-like and mysterious over the weeks. You can wake up with your puffy under eyes and tangled hair. You can sit around and read in your baggy pajamas. You don’t have to hide that you do, in fact, function like any other human. You burp, you fart, you poop and pee. Sometimes you just smell. Who cares? You aren’t gross about it, but the amount of time you save not avoiding Steve while your body happens to be a body is a lot. It’s a scary amount of time you would avoid him to appear perfect. Good god, why?

You’re spoiled now. You may never bother with a real relationship again, except you know this will end eventually.

For now, you can eat and drink whatever you want around him. You can say no to things. You can tell him when you dislike something or when you’re bored or want to be alone. You can just be yourself, and it’s awesome. You can say the bad joke and stupid puns that come to mind. You can poke fun at him and laugh at his jabs at you.

It’s awesome. Honestly, get yourself a man to inoculate from womanhood. Easy-peasy, ass, and squeezy.

His ass? Oh, yeah, because…yeah. Dat ass. It’s worthy of mention and thoroughly distracting.

You’ve even had the gumption to slap it a couple of times. Whatever. He seems to like it. No big deal.

This goes on for a few months. Your time together hasn’t escalated above texting during the week and ‘lessons’ over the weekend. Steve is…well, he’s perfect, really. He won’t need you for much longer, and you’ve made your peace with that, so you’re surprised when Steve comes to your office one Tuesday morning.

“Hey,” he starts with a smile, checking over his shoulder. “Got a minute?” He motions to shut the door.

“Sure,” you shrug, “did I forget someone’s intake today?”

“No. No, nothing like that.” Steve nervously wrings his hands. “Tony’s forcing me to take vacation. He booked this whole resort thing on an island or something.”

“Ok…you probably need it. When was the last time you took time to yourself?”

His scowl suggests that’s exactly what Tony Stark said.

“It’s this weekend.”

You startle at that. “Oh. Well, no problem it’s not like—“

“You want to come?”

Now you’re speechless. Does he think he can’t handle traveling with a significant other? Does he get irritable when away and need practice handling it?

“I know it’s last minute,” he continues, “but I’d love for you to join me. You deserve a break, too.”

You agree, and suddenly realize that you haven’t vacationed in a long time for the same reason: you didn’t want to go alone.

The place is spectacular, and how did you ever doubt when you knew Tony fucking Stark booked it?!

Steve did great on the trip out, stopped at the convenience store when you forgot your motion-sickness meds, was very patient when you couldn’t lift your bag to the overhead by yourself, and walked slower than he probably thinks is humanly possible down the long terminal to the resort shuttle. His average-joe ball cap did nothing to hinder his Greek-god stature, but you both got lucky that no one openly recognized him.

He’s been fun and playful, the perfect mix of caring and care-free. He’ll make a lovely boyfriend to someone, and you’re bubbling with excitement to tell him he’s ready.

“Ready for what?” Steve smiles at you over the dinner table in the fancy, seafood restaurant in the main hotel.

“To graduate,” you chuckle, lifting the glass to toast him.

He lifts his own glass with a confused look. “What exactly am I graduating from?”

You take another sip of champagne in triumph. Eh, so you’ve had a few glasses. Who cares? You made Steve Rogers into perfect boyfriend material, and he’ll be comfortable with himself that way from now on.

“What do I call it,” you muse, “my little School of Sexual Awakening? Ha!” You’re so funny, but you have to do better. Steve doesn’t get the joke yet. “I mean, it’s a good thing, Steve. You’re going to make someone very happy after this.”

His face drops like a stone.

“What,” he deadpans.

“I know. I know you’re probably nervous, but you really are ready. You just gotta bite the bullet and put yourself out there—“

“But…I’m with you.”

“No, like a real relationship, with someone you’re actually interested in.“

He’s silent, so silent the murmuring of other patrons seems to get sucked into the dense void of noise around his intense glare

“I’m sorry,” Steve says in a voice deeper than usual. “What do you think we’ve been doing?”

“Practicing. Getting you ready to get back out there in the modern dating world.”

“We’re…” Steve puts down his glass so carefully that his delicacy might be the thing that breaks it. “We’re not dating?”

You’re starting to think the alcohol has made you less understandable.

“Well, we…you wanted practice. You were feeling uncomfortable around women and worried about trying online dating. You didn’t want to go through a bunch of beginnings of relationships without knowing how to sustain them, right, so we…”

“Started dating because I’m comfortable with you.”

Yeah, but not like that. That’s not funny. He’s not great with the jokes yet, you remind yourself.

“Right, so there was little to no pressure because we’re both adults.”

“—fairly certain that’s still true—” His steel gaze is hardened and unwavering.

“And that since we both wanted...ya know, to feel good and less uncomfortable…then we should just…”

“Date,” he interjects.

“…fuck,” you finish. “Wait. What?”

“I was saying we should date when you kissed me.” Steve adjusts stiffly in the thin dining room chair, and hiss-whispers across the table, "have you been pity fucking me this whole time?!"

Even though you’re brain grinds to a halt, your skin crawls and your insides burn. Your legs start moving without your ok. They’re racing down the stone path to your shared hut so fast that Steve has to jog to keep up, but he has the decency not to speak until you’re both behind the closed door of the bungalow.

“You…you’ve gotten better at flirting with the girl’s in my department.” Talking with your hands doesn’t seem to be helping you process this any faster; it’s just a nice way to burn off some of this terror.

“I talk to other women, yeah.” He looks a lot calmer than you. He’s not shaking and pacing around. “It’s easier to when I can politely say I’m seeing someone. I thought I was taken. I never flirted with anyone other than—well, NOT you, apparently.”

“You’re serious???”

Steve needs to learn the finer points of a joke if he thinks this is a good one. He starts yelling back anyway.

“Why do you think I am not serious? What makes you think that’s all this was?”

“You wanted practice! You said so.”

“No,” he quits screaming, “I wished I had more practice before finding someone I wanted—” Steve blushes ferociously “—so I wouldn’t feel…unsure about…you know. We are—I mean, I thought we were dating.”

You have to laugh. “Steve, you don’t want to date me.”

“I have been for months.” He’s getting closer.

“No, but I’m…I’m…You can’t…I wouldn’t have…We were having fun. I thought I was…like a stepping stone or something.”

His arms reach out as if to grab your shoulders, but he makes no contact. “We had fun. As a couple. Why would I use you for anything else?!”

“I’m average, Steve. I’m old!”

“I’m a hundred and five.”

You slap his arms away. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“Currently, I’m convinced I have never known what you mean.”

“It’s not funny!”

“That we can agree on,” Steve bites back.

“It’s not funny,” you repeat through tears.

“Sweetheart,” Steve tries with sympathetic eyes, “why? Did I not make you feel loved? You thought I didn’t want you? How?!”

“Because.” It’s the only word that will come out as he takes you in hand and pulls you to his chest. Everything reels around you. It’s not your fault. You were protecting yourself. You were being logical and friendly. You were helping him out. You were genuine but…completely guarded in the most important way.

“So I have a couple of essential questions.” Steve brushes his thumb over that gray patch at your temple. “Any chance you’d like to date me?” He huffs at the whine and frown drawn from you. “I should specify. This would be real dating, where neither of us is flirting with—“

You shove at his chest indignantly. He plants a kiss on your forehead in response.

“—or dating other people, and we are both actively aware that we are, in fact, dating each other. Do you want that?”

You roll your face deeper into his chest, nodding.

“Ok, and any chance that before having an actual, real-life, both-of-us-knowing-we-are-dating-each-other first date you’d agree to live in this room with me for three days?”

That earns him a real slap to the side, and eventually, several slaps to his glorious tush.

“Just because I behaved like you were every other man I know…”

“It’s cute,” he whispers, “in a slightly insulting way, but it’s cute.”

A long hug follows, one where you both lean in and hold tight. He plants another kiss to your forehead every time you snuggle further.

“Now…” Steve lets the word rumble around in his chest. He knows what that deep sound does to you. You said all women would like that, so he plans to reserve it for only you. “May I prove how much I want you, ma’am?”

If you enjoyed this work, please consider liking, commenting, and/or reblogging. Thank you for reading!

SR Taglist: @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @fallinallinmendes @im-a-slut-for-fluff

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enter-the-performapals · 1 year

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@arcvmonth Day 5: Action Magic- Overpass

Alright, so I know the Dragon Boys Roleswap Shuffle is a pretty basic AU but I feel like I have an interesting take on it!

For the art today I wanted to draw Fusion!Yuya (hes gotta have some absolutely messed up anglicised name... Eia? Taking suggestions lol) being intimidating during the Xyz war, but it turned into POV: You're getting turned into a card. And stormy ambiance because Winter storms have been pretty crazy over here...

AU thoughts under the cut!

(Quick content warning for mental absue!)

Ive seen a couple of people theorise that Yuya, if roleswapped with Joeri, would still be happy-go-lucky but in a murderous psychopath kinda way. Personaly, I think the opposite.

In my idea of a roleswap, Yuya would be grow up as an orphan, desperately doing whatever he could to eventually get into Academia, which he does around ~10 years old.

Having pretty poor social skills, but still having a positive attitude, he'd make some acquaintances in the first month or so until he catches the attention of Leo Akaba.

Leo, terrified of what Yuya would become, decides to isolate him. While his peers are jealous that he gets special treatment, Yuya is over the moon and starts to see Leo as a father figure and idolises him, following his every move.

Around the same time, Fusion!Yuzu would be taken in Leo as well. Over time, Yuya would see how much better Yuzu would be treated than him, the way Leo doesnt let him too close to his replacement daugter, the hate that would occasionally flash in Leo's eyes when talking to him, and he would start to resent them.

Yuzu's no saint in this AU either, being coddled by Leo so much that she'd view herself above everyone else. She'd figure out how to manipulate Leo into getting whatever she'd want, and rub it in people's faces. She'd act perfect around Leo, but as soon as as shes away from him, she'd demean and undermine the people around her. And Yuya would be her favorite verbal punching bag- as hed also been selected specially by Leo-and save the worst insults for him. She'd probably be known as The Princess of Academia.

With hs confidence beingbeaten down by this version of Yuzu, shunned by his peers who are jealous that he was hand selected by Leo, and just knowing that Leo hates him for a reason he has no idea of, he'd just... mentally shut down. Spiralling into a deep depression.

He would never smile. Barely speak a word outside of duels, which he'd be ruthless in. His eyes would be cold and dead, other than occasionally showing flashes of an intimidating gold.

Of course, even though he knows Leo hates him, hed still do anything for the Professor, in a futile attempt to be loved and accepted by him. Hed be a major player in the war, and hed still kidnap Xyz!Rin and Synchro!Ruri

He'd still be the personality with the most amount of Zarc in him and at the end of the AU, standard!Yuuri would probably show him that he deserves to smile and that no matter what hes faced in the past, there will be people there to support him and be his friends.

After a charater arc duel where he breaks down after defeat and vows to become a better person, Leo would have an angry rant about him being useless tool to the reigime and a worthless demon child that he never should have taken in and expunge him, where then hed fuse with Yuuri.

My thoughts for his deck would be something similar to Sergey's deck, but instead of humanoids theyre animals (like the performapals) in a very old, black and white, rubber-hose style constricted with vines, chains and locks to symbolise a trapped but not lost sense of innocence.

If youve read this far, thank you so much! Let me know-either by dropping me an ask or putting it in the tags- if youd like to see more of this AU, because Boy Howdy have I thought about it In Depth. Thank you for reading!

#i want to draw fusion!yuzu now #i have so many headcannons for her as well #and standard!yuuri and serena #ygo arc v #sakaki yuya #original art #headcannons #doodle #dimension shuffle au #yugioh arc v

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whimsicallyenchantedrose · 1 year

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Season 2 Rewatch Drabbles--2x14 Manhattan

Summary: A series of 100-500 word drabbles to accompany my rewatch of season 2 of Once Upon a Time as an attempt to finally jump start the muse again. There will be a drabble–either a deleted scene, a “fix it” fic or a character musing for each episode of the season. Focus will be on Emma, Henry, the Charmings and Killian–with an emphasis on the very beginnings of Captain Swan’s epic love story, as soon as a certain dashing pirate makes his appearance.

Word Count: 482

Other Chapters: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (15) (16) (17) (17.5) (18) (19) (20) (21-22) (22)

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Note: After watching this episode again, I once again have the strongest urge to force Neal to walk barefoot across a room full of legos and rusty nails. The following fic shows you exactly why.

“I get it,” Neal said with a patronizing smirk, “we’re all messed up. Let’s just try not to pass that on to Henry, okay?”

Emma nodded and dropped her eyes, emotionally collapsing in on herself as she watched him climb out onto the fire escape to talk to their son. Suddenly she felt small, unimportant, petty. Suddenly she was that unloved, emotionally stunted seventeen year old again.

For years after her arrest she’d hoped and dreamed of the moment she’d see Neal again, hoped he’d come back for her, hoped there was some reasonable explanation for why he’d left her, why he’d set her up for his crimes.

But as the years passed without even a word from him, that hope had died. She decided she really should thank him. He’d taught her a valuable lesson: that you’ve got to look out for yourself, never let anyone in. She’d built the walls that had protected her for the past decade, and she was stronger for it.

So imagine her shock when she’d successfully run down Gold’s long lost son this afternoon, only to discover that son was Neal.

She’d wanted to hate him on sight; wanted to throw in his face how much he’d hurt her, wanted to at least show him she was over him, over it all, but she couldn’t. As soon as she saw him, she realized she’d never stopped loving him. She’d never gotten closure, and so, she’d never moved past being that lonely seventeen year old who’d wanted so desperately to be loved that she’d soaked up every scrap of affection Neal gave her like the parched ground when it finally got rain.

Emma had agreed to have a drink with him, finally asking him for the truth. When he gave it to her, she wished he hadn’t.

“Did you know who I was when we met?”

“If I had, I wouldn’t have gone near you.”

“You left me and let me go to prison because Pinocchio told you to?”

She’d left, her heart shattered all over again.

And then he’d returned to his apartment, and everything had hit the fan. She’d had to come clean to Henry about his father, and the betrayal in her kids’ eyes had nearly destroyed her. She knew what this kind of betrayal felt like, and she was damn well NOT going to let Neal further hurt her boy.

She’d tried to stand up to Neal, tried to show him one last time how much he’d hurt her, tried to give him one last chance to apologize–or at least explain, but what she’d gotten instead was condescension and a chiding about being petty with regard to their son.

Maybe Neal was right. Maybe she still was nothing more than that unloved teenager who’d never be worth a damn as a girlfriend, as a mother, or even as a human being.

NEXT CHAPTER-->

#once upon a time #once upon a time rewatch drabbles #2x14 manhattan #emma swan #anti-swanfire

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ablizmal · 5 months

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I JUST FIGURED IT OUT. the parallels and juxtaposition between the pairs of light+misa vs L+juliette.

something i see heavily in both light and misa —one of the only things they have in common, you could say— is that they both adhere to societal expectations. like… to an excessive extent. you know? they both cling onto it for a semblance of normalcy, to capture that feeling of “i belong, i belong, i belong.”

it’s their crutch. in a life full of alienation (for light, not finding meaning in anything, for misa, the immense loneliness and lack of a social life), at the very least they can have this. although they experience alienation, at least they’re not experiencing total isolation— or worse, ostracization, being disapproved of by others.

(that last sentence would be such an eye opening sentence for someone to analyze if english isn’t their first language… /positive)

getting back on topic, light is a VERY repressed person. in the fucking cherry cola universe (aka death note including my s/i), he’s gay but is so deep in the closet he’s not even AWARE he’s in a closet, it’s all he’s ever known.

besides this (or maybe alongside it???), he’s flamboyant. he really, really is, but in canon, we don’t get to see this as much, which i interpret being due to light adhering to everyone’s expectations of him. idk if this specific facet of toxic gender roles is also prevalent in japan, but i can see light, at a certain age (somewhere from 10-12 years old), noticing adults discomfort at his theatrics and stopping immediately. (he’s kind of a daddy’s boy tbh…)

misa, too, is repressed. you KNOW she would love stuff like horror movies, gothic bands, screamo, metal, and the likes, but she doesn’t. the only interests she has that we’re aware of in canon is the occult and fashion. this is for sure due to the writer of death note’s inherent misogyny in every female character he writes, but if you employ some ingenuity (like me (⟡⸝⸝U_U) *ੈ ‧₊˚ .), you can view misa’s lack of characterization as a foreboding sign that misa isn’t okay.

misa doesn’t have any friends. we know this.

her modeling coworkers aside, the only friend we hear misa talk about is her occult friend, and she never mentions her again past the video tape arc. (yeah, that’s what i’ll call misa’s introduction chapters. why not? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯)

this coupled with her parents being murdered… misa is desperate for any sort of approval from others. i mean think about it— outside of her modeling career, she doesn’t interact with anyone! she has a room full of personal items (plushes, posters, furniture, etc), which can be completely normal, but for the sake of my headcanons, has accumulated so much from her spending loads of time by herself, in her house, alone. this is the main setting she’s in. of COURSE she’s gonna get bored with the minimalism of it and add her own personal touches!

one of the few forms of self expression she allows herself to have is her fashion, but there’s a well known subculture for that fashion in japan (harajuku, but i’m pretty sure misa’s is gothic harajuku specifically). so, to sum it up— misa has a group of people who understand her fashion sense, therefore she belongs somewhere.

(note: i am NOT insinuating that misa only wears gothic fashion to fit in somewhere. that’s a stupid af take and it just doesn’t fit misa’s vibes to be perfectly honest. what i am saying, however, is that misa freely expresses her unconventional fashion sense because she knows there are others like her. that’s all. (this is likely one of the only unconventional groups of people she’s knowledgeable about.))

i’d even say that misa is highly intelligent, given how she gathered credible evidence that higuchi is the new kira in the yotsuba arc, but she intentionally hides it. why, you ask?

because she knows she’ll be undermined by men, and she seeks approval over anything, she’s substituting it for human connection, so she just… tucks it away. (fuck, maybe she believes that her intellect will be undermined by everyone as a result of the murderer of her parents never being convicted despite her testimonies…)

there’s also a Whole Other Instance (slash personal interpretation) i could bring up here, but i’ll just make that its own post, because this one is already WAY longer than i ever thought it was gonna be.

and we’re only halfway there, boys…

touching upon the thesis of this now pseudo-essay, L and juliette are unconventional. and they don’t care lol.

it’s well known that L doesn’t give a particular shit about how he comes across to others. like the dude’s rich, he could buy whatever clothes he wants, but he chooses to wear his usual clothes because of sensory issues he wants to. his hair is messy and he doesn’t need to comb it because of how short it is, he sits in that gargoyle pose, and he doesn’t hold back on using his deferential vocabulary when the situation permits it.

before the kira case, he would solve cases from a dark room. sounds fine enough… until you hear that there is no furniture in this room and his PC setup is on the floor. 😭

L also is either unaware of social cues or doesn’t care about them, or doesn’t care enough to learn about them, leading to scenes such as:

or him dropping loaded comments like they aren’t as massive as they are.

he admits with no hesitance that he can be childish when it comes to competition. childish… he’s using an insulting word for what it is at its core— a word to describe certain attributes. (he is quite literally ignoring what the conventional intent of the word is.)

likewise, even around the taskforce, he persists in his typical demeanor, what with his stare that bores into your soul, or slunking around in public, hunched over, his appearance coming off as ghoulish with his pale skin and shadowed eyes. (i’m not saying this as a negative, btw, i love his haunting aura,,, 💗∀💗)

and juliette?? juliette embraces the unconventional with every fiber of her being. as long as she’s alive, she will always endorse the unconventional so long as it’s harmless (because what’s wrong with it if it’s not hurting anyone?). they hate the word “normal” being used for non-universal experiences. having a certain blood pressure is normal. there is no such thing as a “normal” hairstyle, that comes down to personal preference.

she LOATHES the enforcement of conformity. it pisses them off to the point that they go out of their way to be even MORE unconventional, as a way of telling closeminded’s, “fuck OFF, there is nothing wrong with us, with people like me, and if you do have a problem with me, then you can kiss my heels, cause they’re landing in your face anyways!”

when it won’t come with bullshit consequences (like being treated unfairly at their job for being open about her genderqueerness :/), she doesn’t bite their tongue. they speak their mind if they hear someone spewing the most terrible of things, whether covertly or not, which is what makes juliette the only person to come to heads with light time and time again. (let’s face it, light is the type of person to get away with saying microagressions, and since he believes he’s right, he drops them way too often. and no one SAYS anything about it because “no no, light does mean it like ~that!~ he’s so RESPECTFUL and KIND :(((((((((((”)

she isn’t afraid to express her joy and wonder, even at the smallest of things. they know they can be ridiculed and judged for it, but they also recognize the importance of small joys, and that significance outweighs ANY judgement that may be hurled her way.

that’s kind of juliette’s whole thing, actually. if anyone judges her for her unconventionality, she says “so? what are you gonna do about it? gonna go into my brain and rewrite everything about me? huh?” jdksjdksjdkajxjs, she can get VERY snarky about this, but they are proving a point, which is “BITCH, who asked?”

light: …you sure do have a unique laugh, juliette.¹

juliette: well, Boy Genius,² what’s a normal laugh then? huh? what is the typical pattern emerging from instinct which creates the phenomenon known as a laugh? present me with evidence. write me about all your findings, since you’re apparently so knowledgeable about this topic. (mockingly tilts head) it shouldn’t be so hard!~ (❀ ˶ ⁍̴̛ ◡ ⁍̴̛˶)

1) just one of light’s MANY casual insults that he can justify away due to plausible deniability.

2) yes, like jimmy neutron. (FUN FACT, i just found out by creating this exchange (and subsequently checking to see if juliette making this reference is possible in ~2003, given the manga’s timeline) that the jimmy neutron series first aired in 2002. i would’ve sworn from vibes alone that it started in 2007, but eh, “the more you know,” amiright??)

(how the fuck do i even get back on topic after that tonal shift)

to summarize,

light and misa are both people who care heavily about what other people think of them. they conform to what’s expected of them, even if that means closing themselves off from potential happiness.

whereas L and juliette are so authentic. okay, well, maybe L isn’t authentic around prime suspect, light yagami, but!! in all the time he’s known light, he still continued to eat sweets and only sweets, y’know?? if it won’t hinder him solving the kira case, L shows up as himself, odd quirks and all (🥰).

L and juliette have discovered the secrets of the universe, that secret being “i am cringe, but i am free.” (✿ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)

but it’s not so cut and dry as that, as they have varying degrees… no, different ways that this presents itself.

misa is more likely to be swayed if in the right environment (like how she had a friend who engaged in the occult).

L doesn’t care what others think about him. he is SO uncaring, in fact, that he doesn’t feel the need to explain his behavior.

but light and juliette… they’re in leagues of their own.

light has NO identity beyond what others expect of him. this is one of the reason why he’s depressed at the beginning of the series. he’s become everything everyone’s ever wanted— for his family, he’s the perfect son and brother. for his classmates, he’s the perfect student, the perfect friend, is TOTAL boyfriend material (apparently???¿? i can’t see it lmao).

yet it’s meaningless. everything that’s supposed to be fun, like spending time with friends, going out, karaoke, hobbies, playing games, sports, academics, dating… it’s meaningless to light. it’s too predictable, he’s too smart for it, really… so it’s not his fault. it’s not his fault it’s not entertaining to him! it just so happens that he’s better, and more intelligent, than everyone else.

to cope with his alienation, he shoves himself onto a pedestal, eventually diminishing and forgetting the whole point of such human activities. he spits in the face of humanity.

he’s above it all.

but juliette embraces human life. she loves the humans, and sees the inherent worth in the human experience! she condones recreational activities such as singing, dancing, playing, relaxing. they believe that our connections with others is what makes life worth it, even if it’s connections so complex and distant that you can’t even witness them (think of produce at your local supermarket. they wouldn’t be there if the farmers who grew them didn’t exist).

juliette supports self expression above all else, whether that’s through emotions, music, writing, art… any creative means, really! it’s also why she’s so vehement about presenting the way you want through fashion, or socially, through words (heyo, genderqueer nation (⌐ᗜᴗᗜ)).

i mean, this song is one of juliette’s anthems:

youtube

these beliefs run deep in their bones. she wouldn’t be the same person without them.

in this way, light is the antithesis to juliette. light is the one who lies about himself to others the most. juliette sticks true to themself as much as she can and HATES conformity SO much that she actively spites people who wish to enforce it.

which is why they are at each other’s throats (mostly) through words.

if misa is more easily swayed, then light stands firm in his need to be acceptable to others.

if L is quiet, but content, with his eccentricities, then juliette is loud and open about hers.

#notice that the only time juliette quiets down is if it’s for her safety #it’s a survival mechanism. if the system is unfair then she’ll play the system #lizzie screams #the inner workings of liz #juliette rae ambers #cherry cola chaos

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not-a-big-slay · 1 year

Text

Until it doesn't hurt

kaz brekker x fem!reader

warnings: talks of murder, slavery,

a/n: long ahh chapter, but thats what you get as an apology for waiting. i didnt forget about this series and id be damned if i ever would. there are only two chapters left- part 12 and the epilogue, so please stick around and i will try to get them out sooner than this chapter. it was almost half a fuckin year??!!! oh i need a wake up call goddamn. anyway, thank you for reading it and the positive comments here and on wattpad! enjoy this chapter :)

part 11/13:

previous part: part 10

next part: part 12

masterlist

taglist (sorry to bother everyone, i know it has been 5 months..):

@chickencouncilrep

@venomsvl

@happy-nico

comment to be added, two chapters left

"Sounds risky."

"It is."

"And suicidal."

"Yes."

"Also impossible."

"Very much so."

Jesper was amused by the conversation between Inej and Y/N. He has learned his poker partner had only a day left to finish her job. Killing Pekka Rollins couldn't be easy, so when she knocked on the door of Inej's old room, he could see just how anxious Y/N was and how desperate her voice rang when she proposed teaming up with his old friend. Their shared feeling of duty may help them cooperate and increase chances of ending the monster's life. However Inej's former enlightment that came from the hitman's good idea now seemed lost as Y/N shared her deadly plan.

Jesper was just happy to be in the same room, he didn't feel included, nor should he. It wasn't like he would join them, but even men living from the adrenaline of risks would doubt this scheme. It included too many holes that would serve trouble to sneek in "I don't know, Y/N." voiced her uncertanty Inej, "I understand you have limited time, but I'd rather be late than dead." Jesper agreed silently by nodding as they watched the girl think with furrowed eyebrows, not realizing she already is one of those choices. Jesper cleared his throat, he really didn't want to speak, but he couldn't allow Y/N to drag his friend to provoke death herself. "It's not exactly... bulletproof, is it?"

The plan goes as this: Y/N would send a message to Rollins, preferably not a dreg messenger, to meet him somewhere yet not disclosed where. First hole: the Dime Lions' leader will not listen to a mysterious note and probably will not come. Y/N reassured them he will, but didn't gave them a reason to believe that. After the target arrives at the place that's, again, still non-existent, he comes to face Y/N and some 'old friend', as the girl said. Second hole: Y/N won't tell them many key details to the plan, they are just supposed to

"Trust me, it will work."

Inej sighed loudly, clearly trying to find trust in this girl within her. "Are you sure he'll come alone?" she pointed out a part of the plan where they will meet Rollins alone. Third hole, for obvious reasons. "He won't have a reason not to. Our only leverage is that he doesn't suspect I know you, he still thinks I'm on my own." the hitman cleared up and ran a hand through her hair. At least she briefly explained to them that she had met Rollins before, that her job was sort of a revenge, but didn't tell them for what, nor they expected her to. Jesper wanted to keep his mouth shut, but it seemed he was the only one that saw another problem with her statement. "Remind me then, Y/N." the person mentioned turned her gaze away from the table covered under the map of Ketterdam and pleaded him to continue, "What did Rollins do exactly when he found out you were on your own? Kidnapped you is what." he didn't give her time to answer, because it wasn't a question. Finding her bloodied and strapped to a chair with Kaz pointing a gun at her was an unpleasant sight, more unpleasant was Y/N's story about how she got there. The image of the night appeared as if on cue in his mind and made him add: "And who was robbing him on the night you escaped?" Y/N's hands pushed themselves off the table before her legs started to slowly pace the room, hopefully thinking about Jesper's words.

"That's true. His guards saw us all escaping, there is no way you are considered to be alone." Inej supported his doubts and made the girl stop in tracks, her back facing them. Candles lit the room brightly and they flickered when Jesper thought about his utter confusion after finding out Kaz and Y/N knew each other since childhood. He assumed Kaz was born a teenager with insanity inside his genes, the thought of him being a demon that crawled out from hell also crossed his mind. No one knew exactly about his past, no one except maybe for Y/N, but since they seem to hate each other now, it's probably for their own good to not posses the knowledge of Kaz as a child. It was silence for a while until Y/N's words cut through it. "Well, he might be stupid enough to come alone," she let out a sigh and Jesper swore he saw goosebumps on her neck as she finished the sentence, "but not naïve enough to think Kaz would help me."

After Rollins arrives, Inej- present in the skies- will make sure he is indeed alone, or she gets rid of any other presence. Y/N aspires for the place of meeting to be dark, so Inej is not seen while working. After doing so, the spider will stand in the dark behind Pekka, waiting for her cue to put a knife on his throat. Jesper assumes there will be some dialogue between Y/N and Rollins before the two kill him, he fancies it as some sort of drama play they often held on Eil Komedie in a theater. He'd definitely took Wylan to see this play with him, but would rather avoid the same scenario in real life. And how they kill him: the hitman will shoot him, somewhere fatal but where he won't die instantly. Then, she will hit him until only a toe is left touching the alive side of border between life and death. Inej will then 'keep her promise'. or simply put, carve his heart out. Brutal, but poetic in Jesper's opinion. He will die a painful death, Y/N gets her money and revenge and Inej finishes a long undone job, everybody wins.

The girl turned to them, she saw the hesitation in their eyes and walked closer. "I know it's dangerous, but if we won't do it, someone else will." Jesper sinked into confusion and let it show on his face freely, Y/N for his sake quickly explained. "Someone, who holds grudges, will come for him. And they might do it in a more stupid and unprepared way. And then we will hate ourselves for not taking the risk." She looked at Inej and finished: "There's not enough Pekkas for everyone's revenge" Inej stared at her as the mastermind opened her mouth with one last question to ask: "Are you in?" Her eyes digged in Inej as they awaited for answer. She looked at Jesper first, as though he would somehow help. The boy just shrugged, what else to do, he is not part of it. She turned to Y/N again and a simple movement of her head made her understand and walk towards the door.

As she opened it, she turned to Inej and said: "Tomorrow night, after 4 bells until midnight, east stave, just behind Smeet Residence. You'll know." and left. Jesper watched Inej dragging her finger along the map and stopping at the possible building Y/N mentioned. She examined it, the boy could almost hear her mind as she thought about the route she'll take, her eyes caressing the paper streets and houses. Smeet residence belongs to Cornelis Smeet, he played cards with him before when they tried to save Inej from Van Eck. The feeling of nostalgia and warmth hit him. Oh, to go back as things were.

"Do you really trust her?"

"Did you trust she won't hurt you when you brought her to Wylan's house?"

He smiled, he really shouldn't have done that. Even when the question was probably rhetorical, he answered with a serious face. "Yes." Y/N seemed like anything but a liar. Sure, she didn't tell them much about her or the plan, but she didn't feed them lies so they would agree. And he did felt safe with her on that night. He didn't know her for long, but a trace of trust began in him. Inej, as if his thoughts written themselves on his eyes, knew what he was thinking about and smiled.

"Then yes, I trust her."

Oh, how he missed Inej.

--------------------------------------------

She cursed herself with every step she took.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

It rang in her head every time her lungs ate the air.

Bad idea. Bad idea. Bad idea.

Yet everything stopped when she was staring at the tall bulding present at the very end of 5th Harbor. After Y/N spat out her trauma on Kaz, she sent a letter to her employer, who unfortunetely happened to be Deln. She never wanted to see him again and after meeting him in the church, she somehow got over the fact that she has to take her payment from him, so encoutering that man twice was unavoidable. Yet she almost puked when she wrote the letter that was begging him to see her. The letter didn't say much, she wanted to tell him about the plan personally, so feelings could be voiced and maybe even manipulate him to cooperate. Y/N also chose to tell him right before the plan starts, so he wouldn't have a choice or time to make up his mind. She has yet to admit Deln is crucial to her plan though, Rollins won't go alone without him present and will run if he won't see him there, a bussiness partner, a person that sold her to him all those years ago,

an old friend.

A chill ran down her back, even though it was quite a warm evening, no wind at the sea either. She looked at the watchtower again. The Council of Tides was supposed to look out for the sea and harbors, but one hardly saw them. As far as Y/N knew, the stadwatch was patroling the harbors. She wondered if anyone is up there, if the council even existed. They could have just built many watchtowers and manipulate a feeling of safety into people. Trust is a powerful tool. At that moment, Y/N felt uncertain that Deln will arrive. She chose to meet with a slaver at the council's feet. Not that they would care about some barrel rats, but he could play a scaredy cat.

The sound of heavy boots on the cobblestone, that decorated almost the whole Ketterdam, and the feeling of the world closing in on her while a heavy stone crashed her chest, the feeling she only gets around one person, were the signs Deln wasn't afraid. Y/N listened to him creeping closer, the old urge to run fighting with her, before she finally turned around and faced him again after 11 days.

"Snowflake" he exclaimed happily, the word shooting Y/N in her throat, drying it up. She hated how afraid he made her feel. It's been years, she was supposed to move on. Hopefully, she will after this is over. Maybe the afterlife exists and will forgive her for her sins after all. That gave her hope and courage to form a fake smile for the show. "Deln." she greeted him with a nod. The man stopped before her and put his hands on his hips, shaking his head with a smile. He seemed very pleased to see her, what a disturbing thing to notice. "Oh, it has been far too long."

As much as she needed to play nice, Y/N didn't resist rolling her eyes at that. "Could we not?" she tried to not let the harsh tone into her voice, but expected failuire. Deln just chuckled upon her response, but his smile disappeared shortly after, the friendly tone nowhere to be found when he asked: "What do you want? Job's done?" Y/N quietly sighed in relief he was finally himself before answering. "Almost. I came here to offer you a first row view at the murder of Pekka Rollins. The price? I get to use you as a distraction." the hitman smiled and tried to sell it to him as traders on the streets taught her. As much as he loved a good advertisement, Deln shook his head and scoffed.

"Still too proud to ask me for help?"

If I was proud, you'd drown in your blood 10 days ago.

"You will just stand around, doing nothing, watching your enemy to die." she said instead, "I'd even say I'm helping you."

Deln smiled and turned around to walk in circles, he always did that when thinking. The waves crashed as the sun almost fell asleep behind horizont, first and only stars slowly lit their light in the deep blue sky. Y/N wished Ketterdam was clearer, so the stars could shine brightly as they deserved. The slavery she lived in had always a hole in the roof in the back. When she couldn't sleep, she used to look at the night heavens above, naming the few little planets present. There were always only five she could see. First was named Fala, it was the smallest star out of all of them, easy to remember. Second got the name Nerezza, that happened to be the first star that appeared and the last to go away. For the third star Y/N came up with Lilith, named after a child that died by the cruel hand of Deln, she was the brightest. She didn't named the last one for a long time, it wasn't special, just lonely and always the farthest away from the rest. Yet after Rollins took her and then she returned to the place she hoped to never see again, the fifth star shined brighter than ever, still alone, but the four seemed to bow to it. Just then, full of anger and spite, she named them all.

"Oh, Y/N." his voice woke her up and the girl saw him stop. His back faced her and she could fully see the hump in it, his spine visible in the plain shirt he wore. Deln suddenly turned around, his brows furrowed, eyes darted in her, deep in thought. He realized.

"I'm already a part of this, huh?"

Y/N thought of the messanger that patiently waited for the 7th bell to ring through the city. "Rollins will expect you, he is only coming because of you," she inhaled the salt wind from the sea,

"he will die tonight because of you."

Deln's eyes showed he finally got the full importance of his part. Y/N knew she wouldn't have to bother with retelling her plan, she just needed to let him know Rollins will be alone and in the streets. And all of that depends on him, he cannot back out if he wants Pekka dead, because he is already involved.

"Everything fails without me."

He made himself sound important, which he was, but Y/N still cringed. He won't even move a finger and still praised himself for helping. She put it past her though, the 7th bell rang. The message is on it's way. "In a few minutes," the hitman started to walk slowly to Deln, "Pekka Rollins will get a message from you, saying you want to discuss your affairs. You told him to come alone, a conversation between 4 eyes. You also mentioned me being there, as a ransom in your favor." She wanted to continue, but the man stopped her. "Hold on, why do you think Rollins wants to do anything with you?" Y/N stopped as he interrupted and swalllowed when she was reminded of the night they kindapped her.

"If you wouldn't have left me, there wouldn't be a point of kidnapping."

"There is nothing sweeter than a family reunion."

"He hates leaving traces behind." Deln's eyes were pinned on her, but he was thinking behind them. There was no turning back. The messanger had to be close to Rollins now. If he won't be there, Y/N won't kill him and Rollins will probably come after the slaver. Not that she cared about Deln's life, Rollins killing him before she kills Rollins was her insane fantasy no amount of stolen luck could grant her. Not even the freedom papers could pride themselves as the main reason. Kaz was why she needs to finish this job. Only he deserved the revenge and she had to be the one to gift it to him. She was obssesed with the possibility of his forgiveness if she does this. It would lift up the heaviest stone on her consciousness before her deserved death.

The girl watched him as his face lit up. "How will he know it's me. There is no proof that I have sent the letter." Yet his face slowly darkened in confusion again when he saw Y/N furrow her eyebrows and smile a little.

"Because you've signed it, Deln."

He opened his mouth to protest, but nothing came out as everything connected. "The release papers." he sighed, still in awe. Y/N sighed in relief, she loved the feeling of the dominos falling perefectly on time. "You couldn't have remembered my signature. You couldn't have." it was more of a wish than a fact, he tried to convince himself there was a backdoor to this all, Y/N sealed them all though. She actually only focused on his signature, the distant feeling of an official freedom made her remember every single curve of his handwriting. When Rollins' guards were hitting her, the pain flashed it in her mind, keeping her going. Deln found her eyes and for the first time she saw fear in them. Not disgust or mockery, nor peace and happiness.

Fear. Of her.

"You little bitch." he whispered. He couldn't run, he couldn't deny anything. He was cornered. Messanger already delivered Deln's worst fear. Y/N knew he didn't want to be involved with Rollins' murder, that's why she was hired after all. His slave empire would fall if he would be accused of murdering the king of the Barrel, but if she was supposed to kill her past, she was going to kill everything.

A bell rang through the city. Quarter past seven.

Y/N looked up at the sky, a star right above her has shined her way through the mist. She recognized it immediately. "We have to go, can't leave him waiting." she stood before Deln, not moving until he does. He laughed silently, hiding behind his easy-going personality, fearing to accept his faith. After taking in a deep breath, he nodded to the side: "Lead the way."

Before they disappeared into the centre of the city, Y/N looked at her fifth star for the last time. In an hour, Rollins might be dead, Deln will take the blame and Y/N might get her peace in hell. The realization pained her, but she also saw the warm embrace of closure behind it.

A name of the star ran through her head. Little Y/N's whispered it into her ear as the wind picked up.

Karma. Coming for them all.

-------------------------------------------------------------

Kaz coughed when the water reached his nose, filling it up so he couldn't breathe, even though air was all around him and the hallways of the Emerald Palace were dry. Everytime they rounded a corner, one of the two Dime Lions that dragged him along moved his hand across his biceps, causing the waters wetting new parts of his body.

People say Kaz always has a plan and a backup plan for everything, and they are right. However, that was before Y/N appeared and claimed the spot in his heart and mind that he thought was either abandoned or dead. When the frustration he had on himself fizzled out, his cane was already carrying him to the steps of Pekka's place, knitting a quick plan on the way. Kaz thought the deed was done, when he ordered Rollins to say his brother's name and made him believe he buried his son, but apparently it wasn't enough. It will never be, Jakob Hertzoon had hurt many people, not just them. There could be other fools with dead siblings or parents, begging for revenge every night. Stupid kids, as he was once. He couldn't help them, but Dirtyhands will feel enough joy for all of them once the only thing functioning will be Rollins' heart.

That is for Y/N to take.

As he was slowly getting closer to Pekka's office, he didn't doubt the guards will be the easiest part. An old flame in him was ignited and it won't be put down 'till the blood paints every wall of this place. The guards stopped and tightened their grip as one of them opened a door to the office. Kaz thought of just throwing up on them, but kept it in until they pushed him on the floor and released their touch. He coughed again and the water disappeared once he took in the hard wooden floor. His ears picked up voices and the sight of his cane being handed to Rollins, then the men left and he was left alone with the lion.

Kaz pushed his face off the ground into a seated position. His cane hit the floor once before Rollins started talking: "Let's not waste our time Brekker. What do you want?" His accent rolling down his tongue as Kaz tried to stand up. The office looked smaller than his, but it gained one advantage on him once he saw the part of the room that served Y/N as backround when she said his name for the first time in a long time. Her voice still echoed somewhere in his mind and he could never find it and catch it. He never wanted to see her again, in all honesty he just wanted to put her in Hellgate, so she would never be anywhere without his knowledge again, but the R on his shoulder urged him to do this, to get their revenge and to see her at peace.

He cursed that R everyday.

When he was on the way up from his knees, a crow head digged into his shoulder, making him to look at the disgusting face the other person wore. His eyes yelled an answer into Pekka's and he frowned in annoyance once he understood. "Why do you all suddenly hunger for blood, eh? You had to plan this with her, ain't a chance you didn't." he complained while releasing a tension in Kaz's shoulder, letting him to stand up. The boy hated the mention of Y/N, even though he didn't say the girl's name, the knowledge about her could be heard. It only pour gasoline in the fire his eyes flashed. But Kaz wouldn't let him see, Rollins still had no idea Y/N visited the bastard and that they already caught up on the lost time. There was chance he knew, yet he would deny it even if she confessed into Rollins' face.

"Who are you talking about." It wasn't a question, he challenged him to talk about Y/N. However Kaz's fears became true when the man laughed exaggeratedly. "Oh come on! I know you broke her out of my house boy, don't pretend to be dumber than you are." Rollins sat down the cane by his table and reached a hand out for a bottle of whiskey. The sound of liquid knocking on the glass was followed by Pekka's hand that flipped the cup's contents inside his mouth. He'd let him have his last drink, after Dirtyhands is through with him, he'll probably throw it back out. Fingers tapped on the wooden table, disturbing the silence Kaz couldn't handle. "So, why are you doing it. For her?" The last sentence was mocking and rhetorical, quite ironic that it's the only right reason. Kaz limped slowly closer to his table, if he could get to the right spot, he should be able to pick his cane up.

With the 7th bell ringing in the distance, Rollins swallowed his second drink before he started to speak again: "She's not worth it son." Kaz noticed his eyes wandered into afar, making it a good oppurturnity to knock him out. Only if the sudden pain in his stomach caused by the petname disappeared. "You don't even know her, the things she's done." Wrong, thought immediately Kaz. She told him her entire life, leaving out only her birth maybe. But he tied his tongue and imprisoned it behind his teeth due to the concatration he fixed on his only weapon. Rollins didn't mind, he continued gladly to think about the old days.

Kaz's heartbeat fastened everytime he mentioned her, that Nina could be able to pick it up. This moment was one of the many recent, when he desired to go reverse time. Hell, delete it if needed, he just wished to be the 17 year old boy again, planning heists with his Crows, rolling his eyes at the overly-sweet endless pining between Jesper and Wylan, hearing Matthias call him numerous demonic and cursed names, entertaining himself by watching Nina and Inej silent-laugh at something stupid when he was bored. He's glad everyone is safe and that they persued their life callings, but some changes are hard to swallow and this one was still hot to eat. This crave of his heart made itself known before, last time when he saw Y/N in this very office, but now it altered a little, bringing him shame and joy at the same time.

Kaz could see a new person in the picture, laughing along side with the girls, learning Fjerdan solely for the purpose of mocking him, teasing Jesper and Wylan for being so corny. The person didn't fit the timeline, but that was besides the point. He could see her with him, by his side. It squeezed his heart and he didn't know if it's a hug or an attempt to crush it.

The door creaking turned his head around, stopping his hand just mere inches before his cane. A messanger. Rollins walked past Kaz and without a word, the newly present man handed him a letter and left. As the door shut, Kaz's hand made contact with the cane. Rollins' low and weak laugh called to his attention and once his eyes settled on him, the man brought his own pair up. The smile should've already warn him, but his ears waited to hear the conformation. Pekka lifted the letter to Kaz's eye level, as if he would see the small letters from their distance. Yet he knew what it was for sure once the receiver said:

"Speaking of the devil."

Moments after, the man whistled and within a second his guards busted the room, handling Kaz again. The boy tried to fight the hands off, he leaned back and then forth quickly, swinging his cane right after they let go a little, striking one in the stomache. The other got hit in the neck, but before he could finish either of them, a back- up came to aid, trapping him with their arms. He threw himself to sides, trying to loosen up their grip, however it seemed to seal him closer every move. Rollins' hearted laughter played to this scene and his voice continued with the same attitude after Kaz gave up. "Should've brought a gun on me son!" he laughed as he delivered his advice.

He could bring a gun, he could bring his whole crew, but the urge to kill him with his bare hands and stained his clothes with Hertzoon's blood was a virus that have spread all over him, controlling his doings and feelings. If holy water isn't enough to kill the devil, gun would be useless against Pekka Rollins.

The man wiped off tears from laughter and looked at the helpless boy. His hand stretched out to him with the letter between his fingers, his feet erasing the rest of the space. Kaz tried to avoid reading the letter, knowing it won't bring nothing else but additional pain. He often wondered how much of it can still fit in his heart. Of course when his view was filled with Y/N's handwriting and he had no other sight to see, he studied every line. Her signature writing didn't change much, it was still horrible. For a slave, it was a miracle to write at all though. He remembered having trouble to read the love note she'd written him, Jordie wasn't as helpful as he thought he would be, but Kaz lost the need to understand it. He could always find the little heart on every single one of those, that was plenty for him.

This note lacked hearts though, it also was readable and no love was expressed. It was signed by the slavor, Deln she named him. When the letter mentioned Y/N his heart fell. This was the plan to kill him.

"I mean," Pekka began to move his mouth again as he freed Kaz's eyes of the paper, "I'm told to go alone. But I won't mind the company."

He damned his pride for not bringing the gun after all.

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the-bar-sinister · 26 days

Text

The Mechanics of Emotion (17440 words) by thesavagesabretooth

catch up here

Simon had spent the past year living like it was going to be his last year on earth– because it was. But now he is still alive, and there are questions unasked that demand answers. Just what is his relationship with the detective going to be going forward? And what complications of his own does Bobby Fulbright have up his sleeve?

Not to mention that there are two more members of the Phantom Organization who've been captured that Simon now needs to prosecute, and Athena must defend. Love and chaos in LA. In justice we trust– but who understands the mechanics of emotion?

December 27, 10:35 am

Simon and Athena had been poking around the so-called "Blackquill Manor" for the last half an hour.

The house was a bit of a mess– mostly from the various unused rooms having accumulated dust and cobwebs, save for the staple rooms of the ‘kitchen, living room, and bedroom’...as well as a room it seemed Aura set up as a home lab, complete with various robotics half completed on a worktable that looked like it’d seen it’s fair share of experiments pass it’s surface.

Athena had had a sneezing fit when she tried entering one of the bedrooms. Simon’s parents bedroom…and gotten a noseful of dust and negligence. She’d been surprised when Simon’s old room had been neat as a pin, and even MORE surprised when Aura’s room wasn’t a mad scientist’s rats nest, and more… elegantly comfortable.

It was clear that while it would make a pretty good living space for Simon– it’d be a bit of an ordeal to get it as clean as it should be.

“I guess she tended to get so wrapped up in her work that she kept forgetting to come home, or ah…to dust the rooms she didn’t think about.”

"Yes, it seems you were right to be dubious about my father's bed," Simon drawled as they made their way back to the living room.

“Yeahhhhh.” Athena grimaced as she sagged. “Don’t even wanna think about how many spiders may be in that thing.”

"Disgusting. The worst of it is that Aura will likely get cross with me if I decide to clean it up."

“You really think so?” Athena’s eyes widened. “Huh…I mean…yeah actually knowing Aura you’re probably not wrong about that. She’d either laugh at it triggering my allergies if I helped, or get pissed with you messing with it…”

She tugged at her hair. “but your room’s really clean, at least.”

"So I noticed." Simon crossed his arms, and glanced away. "My sister has clearly been taking care of it in my absence."

“She was hoping that she could save you before your execution.” Athena mused, thinking back over Aura’s furious defiance of fate. The desperation that led her to force a retrial no matter who may get hurt.

She couldn’t say she wouldn’t have gone that far herself if she’d somehow failed to become a lawyer in time.

"Well, I suppose she got her wish– devil's bargain that it was. I hope she's enjoying the fruits of her labor." Simon's smile twitched, and Athena could feel his apprehension. It was clear that the thoughts of his sister were difficult for him.

Athena reached out to put her hand on his arm.

“I don’t know…I.. I can’t bring myself to visit just yet. But Simon, if you’re not ready to talk about her, or if there’s something you’re worried about..”

He leaned a little into her touch, and sighed. "There's plenty that I'm worried about, I'm afraid, Athena. We both know it wouldn't do any good for me to try to hide that from you. I visited her this morning and I… said very little about the last week."

Athena felt a ping of nerves as she murmured “...Halblicht?”

She could imagine Aura’s reaction upon finding out, not only that the man who killed Athena’s mother was still alive, but was in some sort of ambiguous relationship with her brother…and that Simon had been lying about him for days.

It wasn’t only that– Athena had no idea if Aura even forgave her.

No, every detail of the past week was a time bomb waiting to go off in Aura Blackquill’s already tumultuous and volatile heart.

"Halblicht," Simon agreed with a leaden tone. "I can't imagine explaining it to her. Saying it to her face."

Simon's anxiety and sadness warred together in an emotion she didn't often feel from Simon– shame.

Athena’s own emotions were complicated– unsure and nervous about her own future, but she knew one thing.

“You don’t have to feel ashamed , Simon. ” She squeezed his arm. “I don’t know if she’ll understand. Probably not right away. But you don’t have to feel ashamed of your feelings about him. Aura…I care about her too…but her wounds of the heart aren’t healed and it means she’s prone to lashing out. That’s not a reflection on your feelings.”

Simon put his hand on her arm, and she could feel the tension running through him. "Whatever you say, and however right or wrong you may be– I still feel that shame. I don't know what might be able to abate it. But I will bear it for now, because well– "

Athena felt the pulse of joy from Simon's heart that could only be one thing. Love.

“Because you love him, Simon…” Athena gave him an outward smile. “I can tell.”

Her internal emotions had dulled to the low and quiet hum she was well used to, the bare flickers of personal anxiety and joy for Simon, and something unfamiliar and flickering

It’s no surprise he loves them. They’re charming, fascinating, kind even after everything, and provided comfort and affection during the worst time in Simon’s life. Even with the heartbreak and confusion, love bloomed easy enough. She quashed her anxieties, her selfish worries of ‘will I still fit’ in favor of nursing the quiet hum of joy to the surface and her smile.

“We’ll figure out what to do about Aura. I– I’ll do what I can.”

"Thank you, Athnea, I ah…" he trailed off and squeezed her hand. "I feel somewhat unworthy of your endless kindness."

Athena’s smile didn’t leave as she squeezed his hand tightly.

“Simon, come on. You know you’re not unworthy. You’ve got seven years of missed kindness to catch back up on, right?” She looked up at him “and I care about you, you know? I really do want you to be happy. No matter what.”

"I appreciate that, Athena. I–" he glanced away, though his hand didn't leave hers. "Why don't we find out if my sister has any bloody coffee in the kitchen, shall we? Instead of standing around in the living room like a pair of awkward lumps."

Athena squeezed his hand and started to drag him towards the kitchen. “Alright, alright…but if she doesn’t, I’ll buy us coffee on Mr. Wright’s dime as SOON as we leave, yeah?”

"Please do," he scowled, following her toward his old family kitchen. "But, it's not about the coffee in this case. It's about…"

His anxiety flashed bright in her mind.

Athena twitched, a physical reaction to a strong emotion that reverberated through her as she pushed the kitchen door open and stepped inside.

“...” she let him continue.

"About us, Athena. If you'd hear me out. Finish the conversation we were having in the car."

He didn't look at her, instead glancing around at the kitchen that must once have been familiar to him.

Athena took a deep, shaky breath , before she flashed her biggest smile.

“I’m ready to get back to that, yeah. I’ll hear you out. Do you need me to help you look around, or…or should I have a seat?”

"Why don't you help me if you don't mind? It's not as if I know my way around the kitchen any more,"

The kitchen was pin-neat, but absolutely filled with gadgets of all sorts…many of which looked like they’d never been used. Some kind of modified mixer sat quietly beside a spice cabinet fitted with a gauge displaying a temperature reading and some interface on one end of the countertop…and an absolutely ornate kitchen scale still bearing traces of flour from the last time it’d been used.

Athena wandered, trying to open the spice cabinet first before it beeped at her and she startled back .“Hah!?”

Immediately, Simon was there behind her to steady her before she could fall over. "Careful there. Or you're going to make a nasty mess on my sister's kitchen floor."

Athena’s heart beat quickly as she leaned back against him “but it yelled at me, Simon!”

She couldn’t help the indignant whine in her voice.

"And? I yell at you all the time!" He huffed, but she felt his amusement and could tell that behind her he was grinning that sly grin of his. He righted her on her feet and then released her. "Another funny surprise from my sister it seems."

Athena huffed. “I’m going to shake her when she’s out of prison. Shake her VERY MUCH for this.”

She had turned pink, and was brushing herself off when she looked up at it again. “Looks like you have to select what kind of spices you want…and it must unlock them? Is this thing temperature and air controlled?”

Simon observed the strange and elaborate cabinet configuration. "It would seem so. A nefarious barrier between ourselves and our goal."

“She really is kind of a cad, isn’t she?” Athena huffed. “At least it’s only a button press away.”

She reached up and cycled before she found something reading ‘coffees and tea’ and hit the green enter button.

Off to her left, one of the cabinet lights flicked green and clicked open with a hiss of air pressure.

Simon bustled over toward the lighted cabinets. "Ah, here we are, I suppose? And one of these gadgets ought to make coffee. Shame she doesn't have something simpler."

“I think she thinks it’s organized in her own mind! And it’s probably alright for keeping food fresh for longer, too…” She shook her head. “You’re a samurai with a sister who’s a technology obsessed sci-fi antagonist.”

"How miserably anime," he drawled. He got down the coffee, and went hunting for something resembling a coffee maker.

“You say that as if you hate anime, Simon.” Athena smiled at him as she trotted on his heels. “...and I know for a fact you’re kind of a huge nerd for it. I still gotta get you and Halblicht to sit down with me for …for..ah..”

She trailed off “Macross, Love across the universe…”

Next to the mixer there was a glass pitcher and some kind of gadget sat on top of it, perhaps her own take on an automatic coffee machine– with a twist. It didn’t look like it was going to explode if they used it.

Simon snorted as he looked over the gadgets poking at them with thinly veiled disdain.

"Get me some water, Athena," he harumphed. "I think this is the right machine. As for anime, I prefer live action dramas. But I'll admit I was intrigued by the one you were trying to show us."

He measured out coffee grounds, putting them in the filter and giving it a dubious look as he put it into place.

Athena was all but stopped as she went to go grab the water, when she noticed a switch on the machine. “Simon, it looks like it’s connected to the sink system.”

She leaned over and pushed the switch down.

A small arm popped up a moment later, and began to swirl around the pot at a slow and steady interval as hot water poured from somewhere below the machine and into the grounds.

It was some sort of automatic pour over machine.

“You were intrigued though, huh? It’s one of my favorites, you know.”

Simon stared at the machine in disbelief and betrayal. He shook his head and focused on Athena instead.

"One of your favorites, hmm? Well, I'll have to tolerate sitting through it for certain then."

Athena laughed, leaning on the counter as the machine went about its work .

“Geeze Simon, you must be a riot at parties. But if you’ll deign to sit through it…I think you’ll have fun."

Simon smirked and tapped his temple. "I wouldn't know, I haven't been to a party in a long time."

He watched as the machine squirted steaming coffee into a pair of mugs.

“We’ll have to hold one for you special then.” Athena walked over and dropped herself into one of the chairs.

Simon picked up the full mugs, and plopped gracelessly down into the chair right next to her. He handed her a cup of coffee.

"Are you trying to torment me, then?"

Athena grabbed the coffee with an impish wink. “Maybe a little bit. I’m allowed to have my fun after you kept me busy for 7 years trying to save your butt.”

"I suppose I can concede that– but I won't let you harass me uncontested. Consider yourself warned." He smirked over his coffee and took a long sip. "Hmm. Adequate."

“I’ve been warned , Mr. Blackquill.’ Athena took a sip of it as well. It, honestly was pretty good, but– she supposed Simon must have had some rigid standards when it came to coffee. “It’s pretty good?”

"It's acceptable. A bitter brew to accompany a bitter conversation, I suppose." He took another sip and looked over at her. "Would you like to start, or shall I?"

“Bitter conversation…” Athena’s smile faltered. “You should start, Simon. I’m likely to get tripped up trying to manage emotions and …and get nowhere fast.”

"Alright then, so be it." He took a deep breath, and turned toward her more fully, coffee in his hands. "Athena– for seven long years I lived among scoundrels and the condemned, as a man likewise condemned. As a scoundrel. Such was my company. The dregs of society. The ruffians and outcasts. Such things leave their mark– and I was not so noble a man to begin with."

His dark eyes stayed trained on her, watching her. His torrid emotions had become almost placid– not quiet, but harmonious. Inscrutable.

Athena nodded slowly. “...it’s only natural it’d leave a mark, Simon.”

She folded her hands around the coffee mug to stare him down. “Even if you didn’t commit the crime, socially speaking you were as much a criminal as the rest…”

"So I was. And so I am. I have known many kinds of scoundrels these last seven years. Walked among them. Learned their ways. Been changed by them. I strive to be a good man, Athena, but I am a ruffian."

Athena’s brow furrowed slightly as she listened. It was true, of course, he’d been learning from ‘scoundrels and ruffians’ as he put it for 7 years. Made friends with them, including some who’d stepped back into the people around her’s lives as their sentences abated…

It was only natural that it’d change him from the man she’d known growing up, into the man she faced in court….but… “...can I ask you something, Simon?”

"You may," he said evenly. "Though I have more to say."

He gestured for her to speak.

“No…” Athena held her hand up. “Go on. This can wait till I hear the rest.”

Are you trying to convince me that you’re somehow not ‘noble’ enough for me?

He took a breath. "Very well. Athena– you deserve a good man. You deserve a prince who will ride into the sunset with you on a white horse. You deserve a man who will devote his whole heart to you, and to no one else. But I am not that man. I am a ruffian. And I know the ways of ruffians."

I knew it. Her shoulders sagged, just the slightest as he continued and her eyes flicked down towards the table. He’s trying to convince me he’s not good enough. That I’m looking for…deserve…a prince to come riding to my rescue like we joked about that night. But I’m not like most people. My heart can’t…won’t…feel the same things they do in the same ways…and I don’t care if the rules of society say a pure and devoted prince is what I should somehow want. He’d changed since the UR-1 Incident…but did I ever make him think it was a bad thing outside his imprisonment? Between that…Europe’s scene…and the Wunder Bar and the Wright Anything Agency…why would I ever judge him for any of that?

His dark gaze swept over her as he spoke.

"I don't know if you want a ruffian, when you could have a prince. And I don't know what the hell my dear detective twins want. But if you want a ruffian, Athena, and if they're… amenable to such a thing… we could perhaps come to a rough arrangement. The three– four of us. It's no noble romance that you deserve. But that's all I have to offer you."

Athena startled as he continued, her mouth open to object before he’d continued. Her gaze softened, and she turned a surprised pink.

“....I don’t think I deserve a noble romance, Simon.” she said in a quiet and even voice, omitting any of her usual projection. She rubbed her arm, and gave him a small but genuine smile.

“And not because of self esteem. I was the one who came on the white horse, but I’m not a prince. I’m unusual– I’m difficult to understand, and I see things in ways most people don’t. I’m not …I’m not looking for a prince , or a noble romance. I’m looking for someone who cares about me, and I care for them back.” She turned a slight pink despite her subdued emotional state. “....and I did find that cramped bed in Cauli strangely comfortable.”

He lifted his chin, looking her over, and he reached out his free hand and touched her arm. "You said as much in the car. I wasn't sure if I was reading too much into your intentions when you said it, but– it's why I felt like I could say what I just did."

Athena’s eyes hesitantly met with his, and she placed her hand against his fingers with a quiet smile.

“I’m glad you could say it…and I mean it when I say I’m willing to try it, Simon. Coming to some kind of ‘rough arrangement’ if they’re amenable, I mean. I can’t promise I’ll be smooth or that I won’t falter here and there, I’m still learning a lot about how to process these sorts of feelings , but…”

Simon's fingers curled around her arm gently as she put her hand on his. "I don't think that I'm far ahead of you, admittedly."

She nodded, and leaned over the table. “We’re both learning, Mr. Halblicht is sure to be too– it’s likely to be messy, but I’m willing to try. You know my feelings for you, and I can assure you that..that I want this, if we’re all amenable to it.”

"The heart wants what the heart wants, I suppose," he said, looking off into the distance. He slipped his arm around her. "This is going to be messy, Athena, if it goes forward. We're likely going to hurt each other in unexpected ways. But I suppose I'm a selfish man in my way."

Athena leaned into his arm and nodded slowly.

“The heart wants what the heart wants. And I’m– I’m a little selfish myself. I don’t want to give up those moments of joy I started to find in Cauli, with you or with them.” She smiled wanly. “I’ll wade through any mess, or hurt, if it means a future where we can be a part of each other's lives. If we’re all amenable...”

"I'm supposed to meet up with Halblicht in a couple of hours or so," Simon murmured thoughtfully. "I suppose it will be a good idea to get the conversation out of the way."

Athena took a deep breath, and looped both her arms around him in a sudden gesture, leaning under his arm with a small smile

“It’s probably for the best. Like ripping a bandaid off. Can’t know how to move forward if we’re still in limbo, right?”

"No. And I've been in limbo for too long, Athena. Seven years too long. Do forgive me if it means that I rush forward."

Athena leaned up and kissed his cheek “I think we’ve all spent too long in limbo, Simon. I’m…I’m not exactly keen on waiting around cautiously either. So I’d say you’re more than forgiven already!”

"Thank you, Athena. And I'm sorry too, for all the ways in the future that I will surely hurt you, and let you down. I'm a humble man– I know it will happen."

Athena chuckled softly.

“It might. But life isn’t a fairy tale or a noble stage play. All that’s just part of life.” She poked his chest. “I’m sure to let you down , or even hurt you, sometimes too.”

Simon laughed incredulously. "I'm almost looking forward to it. A relationship, perhaps, is like a struggle in the courtroom. But– let's not get ahead of ourselves. We still have to take our case to Bobby and Robert."

Athena winked at him.

“We know a lot about struggling in the courtroom, Mr. Blackquill.” She rubbed her chin thoughtfully “...if we gotta take our case to them…should we prepare evidence?”

Simon gave her a dubious look and raised an eyebrow. "I'm curious just what you'll suggest we prepare."

“Well…if the things I’ve gleaned from the sorts of shows and comics Mr. Wright owns are true– a powerpoint or slideshow is traditional.”

Simon stared at her with increasing dumbfounded condescension. "Go on."

Athena shrunk down in her chair, and finally drank a sip of her cooling coffee.

“you…put…together a slideshow…of…uhm..” she murmured “pictures and pros and cons…” She took a longer sip of the coffee with a flush “OH! M ixtapes! Mixtapes are even more traditional! Mr. Wright even endorsed that one!”

"A mix tape. A slide-show. And what, pray tell Cykes-dono, do you suggest we include here? Go on. Give me an example of what the content of this would be."

Athena gave him an awkward smile, shrugging her shoulders with a grin “A song that makes you think of the three of us? To uh…really sell it as a polypossibility?”

Simon put his hand to his face, and dragged it down his cheek, staring at her in utter horror. "... yes I think Bobby would love that."

#cykesquill #phantomquill #blackbright #cykesbright #phantomcykes #phantomcykesquillbright #athena cykes #simon blackquill #bobby fulbright #ace attorney #fanfiction #fan fiction #fanfic #poly ship #archive of our own #fic: the mechanics of emotion

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blackgrnger · 9 months

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Nestha Archeron & Lucerys Velaryon

Nesta Archeron lives 120 years until she is killed in battle sacrificing herself for Gwen. She doesn't regret it for a moment, smiling disoriented and in acceptance with her face in the hands of a desperate and crying Gwen. “It's okay,” she says quietly.

She thinks that finally any god there is giving her rest. Finally. After a century of bitterness. Finally.

The gods are cruel, of course.

She awakens to find her late mother's face, healthy and very much alive.

She doesn't understand in her early years what happened, her anger blinds her to noticing the differences. She didn't go back in the past. Nesta Archeron has now become Nesta Beratheon in an entirely different and unknown universe.

—

Years pass very quickly and incredibly monotonously. She follows the rules of the kingdom, of her parents, of her house in an automatic, very accustomed way. After all, she's lived a century under Rhys's tutelage, under Cassian's cage. She is not surprised to note how her sisters are exactly the same, Feyre from an early age so detached from reality and stubborn enough to face any illusion of injustice. Where even in her naivety Elain manages to deal with this new environment, too beautiful not to get a good marriage, too polite not to charm any good-born Lord, too obedient not to follow the teachings of the Septas religiously. But here, in this place, everything Feyre is becomes just a death sentence.

They don't get along, but Nesta isn't going to let ignorance be Feyre's downfall. She teaches Feyre all she can, she drags Feyre from training yards to Septas and Maesters. It's not just later, in a really really bad fight. Where Feyre screams her frustrations and insults at a very tired Nesta that they resolve themselves. Feyre is only 10 and Nesta is 13. Nesta pulls out a wooden sword and orders Feyre to fight. Feyre is confused but moves forward, being knocked down quickly, over and over again.

Nesta does not ask her to give up. She let her younger sister exhaust herself, she watched Feyre raise her sword in frustration and silent tears dozens of times. “Who taught you how to fight? You never set foot here if you weren't looking for me,” Feyre asks, finally in defeat.

Nesta can't say she's spent a lifetime with a sword in her hand. Even though I never wanted to hold one. She can't explain that this is the first time she's felt almost complete. “You must be prepared for every kind of battle, Feyre. This is the world of men. We are women, we don't just fight with swords. You understand?"

Feyre stares at her for a long time, jaw set and eyes much like her own, she nods in resignation. "I understand."

—

Years later, when Nesta has 18 name days, she watches Feyre alongside Aemond Targaryen talk about an engagement, with a promise of allegiance to his brother Aegon's crown. She watches a young Lucerys Velaryon, 17 name days old, answer her father's question which of his daughters he will wed.

Lucerys stares at her for just a moment. "I would have Lady Nesta's hand, making her Lady Velaryon, our sons heirs to Driftmark and respected places at court, being the grandsons of rightful Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen."

She doesn't react, raising an eyebrow at him. She remembers meeting him only once, at Aegon and Helaena Targaryen's wedding. A quiet, polite and shy 13 year old boy. She remembers him very shyly reaching out to her after watching her for a long time. She didn't deny the prince any more than she had denied other lords all night, but it was the first time she'd smiled at an obviously decent dancing partner who hadn't carried on an unpleasant conversation. He was her height then, but she noticed how her eyes would only reach his chin now. Even his hair has grown out, it's out of her eyes and almost down to her shoulders. The combination of his mother and her father made him well, delicate features and valyrian of Rhaenyra but with a body that reminded her too much of Harwin Strong.

Her father pauses, in any universe too ambitious a man for his own good. She knows he's been moving in with Otto Hightower for years, a promise of marriage for Queen Alicent's second son. But what is a second son who will inherit nothing compared to another heir to the richest house in the kingdom? Bastard or not, Lucerys Velaryon holds the upper hand here and everyone in the hall can see it.

Aemond Targaryen as well. He threatens the prince and demands an eye. She notices how Feyre keeps silent and searches her eyes, her sister nods and she sighs under her father's screams so they don't spill blood in their house. She speaks for the first time, "I accept Prince Lucerys's proposal on the condition that the marriage be immediate."

The prince looks at her with an ironic smile. “We’ll get married now then.”

Aemond Targaryen leaves Storm's End with a promise to burn the castle down in the very near future. She believes him, but her younger sister's finally relaxed shoulders tell her everything she needs to know. Feyre has so far shown no interest in any marriage, unlike Elain who married a firstborn son of House Baelish at age 15.

She would later regret her decision to delay a wedding for her sister when Rhysand showed up. Now she will marry a prince in the middle of a war, after all who is Nesta without a war to fight?

#yes i picture Florence as Nesta because she has the rage in her eyes that is needed to play Nesta #I love Nesta but I love imagining her in complicated situations falling in love with someone decent #I'm team black but I know Nesta would love or hate Alicent a lot #I also imagine her being very important to Rhaenyra's council #lucerys velaryon #hotd #nesta archeron #pro nesta archeron

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angelsanarchy · 8 months

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Alone Together - Eddie/OC One-Shot Series PRT 25

Prt 1 - Prt 2 - Prt 3 - Prt 4 - Prt 5 - Prt 6 - Prt 7 - Prt 8 - Prt 9 - Prt 10 - Prt 11 - Prt 12 - Prt 13 - Prt 14 - Prt 15 - Prt 16 - Prt 17 - Prt 18 - Prt 19 - Prt 20 - Prt 21 - Prt 22 - Prt 23 - Prt 24 -

taglist:

@thetenthdoctorscompanion @siriuslymooned @samwilsonnsnns @kathaaaaaaa

Eddie walked into the trailer, slamming the door behind himself and tossing a grease covered rag on the table with frustration. Wayne watched him carefully as he plopped down on the couch abruptly, muttering to himself through gritted teeth.

"So I take it the van is giving you trouble." Wayne was kicked back with the newspaper in his lap.

"I just can't get my hands to do what they need to do in this weather. It's like they cramp up from the cold and its pissing me off. How the hell am I supposed to have it up and running before Dani gets back?" Eddie rubbed his dirty hands through his hair and Wayne knew why he was so upset.

"Has she called?" He asked curiously knowing she hadn't called him since the beginning of her vacation.

"She apparently called Robin who told Steve who told Dustin who told the group that she would be home midday tomorrow but no she hasn't called again." Eddie picked at his nails and Wayne put the paper down.

"I thought you would be a bit more excited to see her considering you've been sulking about her being gone since she pulled out of here." Wayne watched Eddie roll his eyes knowing he wouldn't deny it.

"Yeah but she's been hanging out with her mom who hates me and Hawkins. Whose to say she doesn't come back to ditch me for someone better, who actually has a future beyond this town?" Eddie had never talked like this outloud to his uncle. Mostly because he knew how Wayne felt about him and hated hearing him limit himself to his reputation and last name.

"From what I picked up on at Thanksgiving, I don't see Dani's mother having any real influence over her decision making, let alone who she chooses to spend time with. Why would you worry about that now?" Wayne pressed.

"Apparently her mom has been shitting on the Munson name. Giving her all this history about my old man and how its in my genes to end up stuck in Hawkins locked up or working at a gas station." Wayne hated that woman. He knew how uppity she had always been but that never stopped her from buying drugs off his brother when they were younger. She often forgets that she isn't better than anyone just because she's seen the outside of Hawkins.

"What if she realizes I'm a waste of space? She deserves so much better than me, Unc." Eddie sounded so desperate, it broke Wayne's heart.

"Son, I can assure you that no one looks at you less like a waste of space than that girl. Dani is a strong minded, intelligent girl who thinks for herself and knows what she wants. Fighting for your life at a young age will do that to you." Wayne explained.

"Exactly! She's been through hell and for some reason she wants to be friends with me." Wayne laughed making Eddie frown.

"Oh boy. That girl is head over heels for you, Eddie. Don't kid yourself into thinking she just wants to be friends with you. I know you're smarter than that." Eddie blushed looking down at his dirty hands.

"I know how you feel about Dani but I also know that you've never been in love before so I can tell how god damn terrified you are." Wayne moved to sit next to Eddie.

"I don't have anything to give her, Wayne. Look at me. I'm a third year senior with no college aspirations and a part time job. I care enough about her to know that I'm not what she should want." Eddie looked at his uncle pitifully and he clapped a hand on his back.

"I want you to say it out loud Son. I want you to admit to yourself how you feel and know that the only person that has to think you're good enough for her...is her." Eddie nodded his head letting out a breath.

"She makes me want to be better, I just don't even know where to start with being a guy who could possibly deserve her." Wayne smiled at him. Watching Eddie grow up has been one of his greatest joys and all he can hope is that he continues to follow a path that will prop him up and not bring him down. That's what his mother would have wanted.

"How about you stop wasting time skirting around what people think of you and actually tell her how you feel. That would be a good start in my opinion." Wayne stood up, giving one last squeeze to Eddie's shoulder before walking back to his recliner.

"I would probably take a shower as well...you know, clean the grease from under your fingernails." Wayne teased making Eddie roll his eyes.

"I'll be sure to do all my primping before she touches down in Hawkins. Thanks Uncle Wayne." Eddie started back towards his bedroom to grab a clean change of clothes for a shower. Wayne tried to remember what it felt like to be in love at that age but it only made him think of Eddie's mother. He likes to think that things would have been so different if she would have ended up with him instead of his brother but it always made him feel somber. He only hoped that Eddie and Dani would have a much happier ending.

#Eddie Munson #Dani Murillo #Dani x Eddie #Stranger Things Fic #Alone Together Series #Alone Together #Eddie Munson x OC #One Shot Series #Stranger Things

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acertainmoshke · 1 year

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Meet the Author (revised)

My name is Moshke Palmoni. I also plan to publish children’s books under Lior Eisen, but I mainly go by Moshke. I use they/them pronouns and when I’m not writing I love to read, knit, snuggle my weirdo cat, or work on home projects to fix my 100-year-old house that the previous owners made some interesting choices for. I also have a day job that I am very passionate about but will not talk about here because I don’t want to mix my writing with my professional life. None of my projects are published yet but I’m getting there.

Active WIPs

(let me know if you want to be added to any taglists!)

General tag list: @ blind-the-winds

To Die Among the Stars

In the future, 20 people are sent into space on a second test of an FTL drive, aiming for a habitable planet. The first test was a disaster, so this time they’re more careful—the volunteers are only needed for data on how humans fare at faster than light speeds, so they are selected from prisons and “mental wellness centers” and areas where people would agree to a suicide mission for the promise of feeding their families. No one expects them to live, just to provide enough data to improve the next test. Told from 4 POVs: Pixel, a semiverbal black market modder; Ri, who has so many illicit mods embedded in his body he can no longer experience the world the way most people do; Zippy, a young disabled woman desperate to support her family; and Peppermint, a genetic experiment combining human and cat DNA raised in a lab with only a sentient android for company. Despite all expectations, the group bands together for survival.

Taglist: @ hd-literature

A Tangled Knot of Gold

Technically the 3rd Legends of Halara book, but the first one was not cooperating so here we are. Tlapil is the cousin of the heir to the throne, Soter, who is also the only person who treats her like a person because she is semi-verbal with unusual body language and interests. Her main useful skill seems to be mapmaking, but when the kingdom needs unusual solutions she’s ready to help—along with her only other friend, who happens to be a slime. Having proven herself, she holds a respectable position as advisor to her cousin, but when tragedy threatens to tear apart the entire kingdom it might be up to her to find a way to hold it together.

Halaran cultural genders explained here, and non-human genders here. Explanation of the religious system here.

Fae and Brownie

10-year-old Fae Grant is autistic and ataxic and struggles in school, socially and with meeting expectations. Right after she meets the new boy, Brownie, a meltdown leads to a week’s suspension just as her aunt moves in with her family. Fae’s adventures over that week lead her to a new best friend, realizations about accommodating her communication difficulties, and new acceptance of being who she is.

Backburnered WIPs under the cut

Cold Iron

Shakatra Zoawin has been alive for 107 years, but they are only 33 old. They are one of the few Fae changelings able to survive to adulthood in our world—they age slowly, their magic is more powerful than any human sorcerer, and they have a particular knack for glamour. All they’ve ever wanted was to be left alone on the fringes of society with their brother Kris, also a changeling. But now, on top of raising their teenage stepson and the age-frozen human child they replaced, they might be the only one with both the Fae-aligned skills to protect humanity and the remotest inclination to do that.

Time to Kill (working title)

Esther Dahan is part of one of the first teams ever sanctioned to use time travel technology. Against all historical odds, they aren’t cops or soldiers—they’re anthropologists. Her team specializes in Jewish history specifically, and as tough as it is to leave her young daughter behind for long stretches the team is like her family as they get to truly experience what life was once like, always careful not to change anything (the butterfly effect having been disproven, they must still not share too much information or come in contact with major figures). And yet, something is off. In more and more time periods, they find suspicious activity. But they can never quite get enough proof to convince anyone why this matters—why they should believe that these scientists found the first known rogue travelers. It’s not until trying to solve the mystery on their own leads to Esther’s life being torn apart that they’re taken seriously, and even then her team might be the only ones capable of finding out the truth and stopping something even worse.

Falling Petals (working title)

A story of 3 generations of autistic people before any of them would have been diagnosed, loosely based on the life experiences of my family during different times. Also about relationships and imperfect love. Ira Katz was born in 1913, the only child of slightly older Russian Jewish immigrant parents. He grew up in California and lived a fairly normal life, except that he wasn’t normal. He was very charming, but didn’t understand why mean jokes or blunt truths weren’t appreciated. He assumed everyone was as interested in his niche interests as he was and despite loving the beauty in the world and the people around him felt unable to connect with any of them. He would grow up to marry a girl he knew from synagogue named Joy and have 4 children, whom he loved from a distance and teased with a brilliant and oblivious cruelty. He inherited his father’s drug store, which he enjoyed because his scripted charm worked best on strangers.

Ira’s second child, Daniel, born in 1939, was also odd. He was very sensitive for a boy and called annoying for his awkward attempts at friendship. Eventually he channeled his sensory pain and constant overwhelm from tears to anger. He practiced on his own until he spoke like a professional adult, scripting replies that sounded like a real conversation. Adults loved him while other young people shunned him and his brother and father mocked him. He went to college and became an architect because it was more manly than being a librarian like he’d wanted, and while in school he met a high school teacher named Frances, who he married and had twins with. Daniel was determined not to mock his children and to spend time with them, which he did—but he also hid his pain and emotions until they exploded out in uncontrollable anger and struggled to deal with any noise or rule breaking. His drive to be successful managed to drown out everything else and sucked up all his energy.

One of Daniel’s two daughters, Shoshana, born in 1961, was also odd but in an opposite sort of way. Where Daniel had always seemed mature and professional even when unnecessary, Shoshana seemed childlike far longer than her sister. She continued to play with her dolls and make patterns with her marbles after other girls started whispering about boys. She froze up when she didn’t know the right social response and just wouldn’t respond. She broke down in tears when overwhelmed and was terrified of crowds. She felt like an utter failure despite being an avid reader with a good memory. She didn’t go to college or get married. She tried and failed to live on her own in her 20s. She felt unloveable. And then her sister had a child, Naomi, a child Shoshana saw her own life in, and suddenly she wanted to show her little niece how one could be happy and also different and what it actually meant to succeed. Which required her to figure that out herself first and notice her own strengths.

Eachw part is told from their own perspective and with compassion for their experiences. Everyone does the best they can and the goal is to show unhealthy coping mechanisms without denouncing anyone as a villain.

#Moshke writes #Writeblr #writeblr intro

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