#mayhaps i’ll try to draw him again sometime…. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

plothooksinc · 5 months

Note

Assuming you don't have an excess of NRFTW prompts already, mayhaps a missing scene of Mikey confronting Leo about that "Don't kill yourself for a corpse" line? Because I just *know* he had a lot of feelings about that, diversion or no. 👀👀

Me: That should be pretty straightforward Me: ...only now I want to address some other stuff, so-- /17 pages later

The Jupiter Jim figurines that April had put on the bedside stand were gone, replaced by a tray of Mikey’s paints, and Draxum’s (lab? Secret lair? He insisted it wasn’t a castle--) place was dead silent.

They were moving today. Donnie had declared their new residence-to-be hygienically and structurally sound enough to begin the shift over, but Leo was still benched. And Mikey was also benched—unfairly, as far as he was concerned, but Draxum had pushed for him to stay out of the heavy lifting.

(“There’s being able to lift a pound or two, and there’s being able to shift furniture and boxes. It’s a world of difference,” the old goat had said patiently. “Yes, you’re doing much better, but don’t try your luck.”

“But I can use my chains, they won’t weigh—”

“Ahhh, yes. Your chains. With your mystic energy. And what have we said about using your mystic energy?”)

Donnie had told him outright to be thankful he had an excuse to sit this out. But it was Raph who mollified him by pointing out that leaving Leo here entirely on his own probably wouldn’t be the greatest of ideas. Both because he was still hurt and might need help, would be feeling kind of useless and in need of morale—and because a lonely and bored Leo was often a dumb Leo, and if he would listen to anyone and just stay put, it was gonna be Mikey.

And fair. Sometimes Leo definitely required a Delicate Touch.

Today, he’d apply one of a different kind.

Leo’s shell was a mess of fibreglass patches and newly sealed cracks still fragile in some places—Donnie had come up with a thin protective cover for the bulk of them, but the whole look wasn’t pretty and his brother was self-conscious about it. Not that he’d said as much, but the fact that he pulled the blanket right up over it even when it was warm spoke volumes.

Also, Mikey’s fingers itched every time he looked at it. He wanted to make it look awesome. Hence--

“Give me some suggestions?” Leo said. “You’re the artist.”

“Could do a cool dragon?”

“Mmm. Yeah.”

Well, that was noncommittal. He thought Leo would like a dragon. Mikey frowned. “You know I’ll paint whatever you want. I don’t care what it is.”

Leo chuckled. “Well, that’s way open to abuse.”

“I’m serious!”

“Hmm.”

And he was quiet again. This time, Mikey frowned at him. Was it time for morale boosts already? It seemed a bit early--

“Hey.”

“Mmm, yeah, I’m thinking.”

“Thinking about what?”

“Thinking abooout… how I can abuse your mad painting skills?”

“Leo.”

“Seriously, what if I got you to draw, like, a terrible cartoon of Barry falling off a roof or something.”

“...really?”

“You did say anything.”

Mikey narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “I mean sure, if that’s what you really want.” Though it was such a cheap shot he didn’t think Leo even tried with that one; it felt more like misdirection. “Didn’t know you were so obsessed with him you wanted a reminder painted on you, but—”

“Oh pizza supreme, ew.” Leo shuddered, mashing his face into the pillow. “When you put it like that—”

“So what are you thinking about?”

“Rude.”

“Answer the question, Leon.”

“Ruder. No privacy. Maybe I’m thinking that I miss pizza.”

“You get some tomorrow.”

“What about now?” he whined.

“Leo?”

“Miguel.”

“Do you not want me to paint your shell?” Leo hesitated, and Mikey squinted at him. “We don’t have to.”

“...it’s not that,” Leo muttered, muffled by the pillow. “I do, but…”

Time to pull out the big guns. He flopped onto the bed next to him, offering his best puppy eyes and trembling lip when Leo shifted to face him. “Do you think I’ll do a bad job?”

“What?” Leo pulled back a little, looking panicked. “Of course not! You’re amazing, I just—”

Mikey grinned at him cheerfully. And then stuck his tongue out for good measure.

“—who taught you how to weaponise that, seriously.”

“You did.”

Leo swallowed a laugh. “Okay, okay. Fine. Give me your hand.”

“Huh?”

His brother held out a hand, beckoning, and Mikey obliged him by taking it. Leo instantly turned his hand over, pushing gently along the joints. “That hurt?”

...oh. That’s what was going on. It said a lot that Mikey hadn’t even thought about injury stress; his arms had been behaving themselves for days now. It was possible, he guessed.

On the other hand, he hadn’t painted in weeks. He missed it. And he wanted Leo to like his shell. So he pulled back, deliberately shaking his hands out and wiggling his fingers, smiling wryly as Leo winced. “Promise I’m good. In more ways than one, baby!”

“Yeah, but what if it starts hurting halfway through?” Leo made a face. “Then I’ll be stuck with half a dragon or something and probably, like, the lamer part. There’ll be a dragon’s ass on my shell and everyone’ll make fun of me.”

Mikey sighed, seeing the whining for the thinly disguised concern it was. It was touching, but he could feel the annoyance starting to bubble up. Of all of them, Leo was the one that generally didn’t baby him. He managed a smile. “We do that already.”

“Shh, let me live in denial. Anywhizzle--”

“I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t ready,” he said, sharper than he intended. (Probably because that wasn’t entirely true—okay, he hadn’t given any thought to it before this, but after reflection, he was pretty sure--)

“You sure about that?”

Leo said it...lightly. For the most part.

Maybe Mikey just imagined the strain underneath, or maybe it was because he was already riled, but the doubtful look on his brother’s face made him bristle defensively. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What?” Leo paused. “Nothing, I’m just kidding around.”

“You sure about that?”

And this time Leo frowned at Mikey’s mocking tone and shifted gingerly to face him more directly, hugging a pillow to his chest. “Whoa, okay, I honestly didn’t mean anything by it, I’m just… making sure.”

“Why?”

“...you seriously have to ask?”

“Yeah, actually,” Mikey said flatly, fingers tapping a rhythm on the protective sheet. He just wanted to paint. “I’m more than okay. I’m fine, Leo.”

“Annnd you’ve said that before.”

“I—” He paused.

(“Fine! Just fine. You?”

“Fine. Just fine.”)

Again, oh.

(“You’re both liars and I don’t see why you bother.”)

Mikey let a breath out. Sure, okay. He still felt tetchy about this, but Leo had a point. But it took two to have that conversation, and if they were gonna talk about recklessness--

--and oh, for the third time. He got it now, why he was so hair-trigger irritated. There was a ninja damned elephant in the room.

One thing at a time.

“It’s just painting,” Mikey said finally, voice even. “It’s not like I’m using any kind of mystic mojo and I can stop any time it starts to hurt. I can paint something that can be done in pieces, no dragon asses necessary.”

Leo blinked at him, and then mustered up a lopsided smile. “I dunno. What if dragon asses are my thing?”

He could take that offer for what it was; Leo attempting to walk their conversation back from an edge. For a moment, Mikey was tempted. He just wanted to do something nice for his brother and artistic and prove he could still--

Still paint. He could. He had no trouble at dinner, no trouble lugging Dad’s casserole, and now Leo was making him second guess himself when Leo was absolutely the biggest hypocrite in the room for this kinda thing.

“...Angelo?”

And man, now his brother wouldn’t even let him second guess himself in peace! Rude. He leaned forward to rummage through his paints, voice flat. “What.”

“...hey.” Hesitant and soft. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, like, belittle you, that’s not what this is about.”

“That’s a big word for you.” As soon as he said it—heard the snap of his words leave his mouth—Mikey cringed. Especially as Leo stilled on the bed, then sank down into the pillows again, face blank. Okay, he didn’t deserve that. If Mikey didn’t want to be babied, he shouldn’t be a brat.

So he gave an overly long, dramatic Mermista-style groan and flopped back down on his back next to his brother. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m just… I’m frustrated. It’s been a while. And you were the last person I expected this from!”

“I get it,” Leo said quietly. “You got stuck here on babysitting duty, you’re already feeling left out.”

“That’s not it. Well, not all of it.” He hesitated, stretching his hands up to link behind his head, voice innocent. “Um… I was so caught up in the euphoria of being able to paint your shell that for a minute I lived in a world where mystic backlash didn’t exist…?”

There was a long moment of silence.

And then Mikey grinned a little as Leo raised his head to glare at him. “You did not just apple juice meme at me.”

“I sure did, Leon. Whatcha gonna do about it?”

“Ask you nicely to brain yourself with a pillow,” Leo said grumpily. “I’m keeping count, you know.”

“Oh, I bet.”

They lay there in companionable silence.

“I was looking forward to it, too.” Leo said after a while. “I mean, I even let you put the sheet down. It’s only after that we—look, we both forgot, okay? And then I panicked, because I’m not meant to forget that kind of thing. What if you get hurt because I encouraged you?”

“Hmm.” Okay, that was a fair, kind of dumb but standard Leo reaction. “I kind of get it, except for the part where you’re not responsible for my life choices.”

“Yeah, but I’m enabling them. Raph would—”

“Raph would get exasperated at me for pulling a dumb stunt! This isn’t like… being out fighting bad guys and for some reason your plan means I have to hurt myself painting.”

“Close enough,” Leo said, barely audible.

Mikey shifted up onto his elbows, looking at him in disbelief. “I’m sorry, what? Did I hear that correctly?”

“Mmf.” Leo dropped his face back into the pillow. “Sorry. Forget it, I’m just—”

“Oh no, we are not forgetting it, son.” Mikey sat back up again, folding his arms like a disapproving parent. “Seriously? Are we doing this now?”

“Can we go back to the part where you were going to paint, like, something easy and—”

“Hell no. Leo.” Mikey poked him in the shoulder-- the good one, because he wasn’t a complete jerk. “I don’t remember any point where you had a say in my portal choices. Oh, wait! Yes I do! And your say was dumb and I ignored it—”

Leo blinked at him, baffled. “You-- what? I never—”

“Aha!” Mikey pointed at him triumphantly. “You can’t have it both ways. Either you’re responsible or you’re not, which is it?”

“No, I’m seriously lost,” Leo said blankly. “Putting aside the whole responsibility or feeling guilt or whatever, I get it, we’ll come back to that (maybehopefullynever) but when did you ignore me? I don’t remember saying anything to you about portals.”

For a moment, Mikey was just. Speechless. Because he could infer two things from that, and he hated both of them. One, that Leo had absolutely talked about his portals, just not with him. And two…

“You don’t remember,” he said, irritation shifting into genuine anger. His voice rose with every word. “The warehouse? That cheap action hero line you threw at me while you were hanging like so much netted roadkill? ‘Doesn’t ring a bell?’ Seriously!?”

Recognition dawned on Leo’s face, and he mouthed something silently—a sentence that he recognised because it had been on Mikey’s mind, on and off, that he’d muttered to himself in the bathroom sometimes, that he couldn’t decide whether it was a cool line or something Leo needed to be slapped for, and that he’d decided to maybe just try and let it go until Leo--

--did this. Forgot it.

Like it didn’t matter.

Don’t kill yourself for a corpse.

“Mikey,” Leo said faintly, and a helpless, placating smile twitched at the corners of his mouth for a moment before it faded under Mikey’s glare. “That was just stalling.”

“Was it?”

“Yes!” he snapped. “That wasn’t a-- I thought you knew! Do you really think I’d just encourage you to throw my life away when help was very clearly gonna be on the way?”

Annnd there it was. Because yeah, actually. Leo had put his finger on it precisely without meaning to, and Mikey surged up off the bed. “You’ve done it before, Leo! Once is maybe stalling, but this is a pattern, and—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa—”

“Don’t whoa whoa whoa me!” Mikey bared his teeth. And his next words were pitched high and dramatic, hand to forehead. “’Don’t kill yourself for a corpse!’ ‘Casey, when I get to the other side, close that door!’ Actually yeah, now that I think about it, if you hadn’t been such a dumbass, I—”

Oh.

Oh, shit, way too far. Leo flinched as if struck, but he stayed staring at Mikey, eyes dark and shoulders hunched. Making himself small like he deserved it, when Mikey had been trying to point out his arms weren’t his responsibility. Good job, going the exact opposite direction.

“...fuck,” he whispered.

In a perfect world, Leo would blackmail him with threats to tell Raph about his swearing at this point. But his big brother said nothing, watching him in deathly silence.

Mikey covered his face. He was angry. He’d crossed a line. And for a long, yawning moment, he held still, hoping Leo would—snap back at him, or shove him off the bed, or be just as much a jerk back, like he’d been with Raph before the invasion, or that time at the pizzeria, or--

It was so quiet.

Oh, pizza supreme. “Leo,” he said, muffled into his hands. “I’m--”

Leo laughed, and Mikey snapped his head up in mix of confusion and dread, because that was not the correct response. But Leo’s giggling was brittle, and while he was lounging on the pillows like he was so entertained, he was staring past Mikey like he wasn’t there. Something curdled in his gut. “Leo…?”

“You can’t have it both ways, mi hermano,” Leo said, and his tone was so absolutely curated smartass that Mikey cringed. “Either I’m responsible or I’m not, which is it?”

“Don’t,” Mikey said tightly, “Throw my words back at me.”

“Why not? Seems to be a common thing today.”

“You know it’s not what I meant!”

“Seems we got a lot of that going around, too.”

Leo’s humour faded—what there was of it—and now he just looked tired. He shifted awkwardly onto his side to face away from Mikey. “Sorry,” he muttered. “You’re gonna have to tell Raph you weren’t the best choice for the whole morale thing. He’ll understand.”

Words chosen to hurt. They lost their bite when delivered so expressionlessly, and Mikey swallowed against a stupid, stupid desire to cry, because now he was angry and frustrated and guilty and a little heartbroken, and dammit, this was so important, he couldn’t let it slide, but he…

...kinda got why Raph and Leo were at each other’s throats all the time.

He wasn’t going to be the same.

“I have three doctorates,” he muttered.

And waited. For Leo to snort, to cut him down and say sure, and I have a medical degree. With stickers. Which makes it better than yours.

But Leo said nothing. After a moment, he hitched the blanket up to wrap over his shell again, and that felt more like a dismissal than anything else.

Mikey curled his hands into fists. Clenched them hard, just because he could. Because it didn’t hurt anymore, not like before. “I have three doctorates,” he repeated flatly, “And I probably should be taking my own advice, huh. You want more words thrown back at you? I’m not yelling at you because I’m mad. I’m—I’m freaking terrified, Leo! Because you nearly died like three times in the last couple weeks, and two of those times you just kind of… leaned right into it, and I don’t—don’t want there to be a fourth time—”

“You think I do?”

Leo’s response was barely audible, but his head had tilted back just enough for Mikey to know he was paying attention. And man, it was getting harder not to just burst into tears, but then Leo would probably either have to shift into comfort mode (and everything would get derailed) or he’d ignore Mikey entirely and that would feel worse. He compromised by flopping back onto the bed, curling up against Leo’s blankets, and found his voice again. He’d say what he had to say first.

“I don’t know,” he said softly. “That’s why, okay? I just—you just seem to keep going for the option that gets you dead lately. You can’t do that to us.”

“I mean, apparently I can,” Leo murmured bitterly. “Seeing as I’ve done it twice.”

He squeezed his eyes shut. “That’s not funny.”

“Yeah, well. I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“...I don’t know what I want you to say, either.” Nothing felt right.

“Okay, here’s a start,” Leo said flatly. “If you think I’m trying to throw my life away—”

“No!”

“If you don’t think that, what exactly are you accusing me of?”

“I’m not! I’m—” His voice cracked, and Mikey bit off another curse under his breath. And then went fuck it and vanished into the cool dark of his shell, so he wouldn’t have to stare at Leo’s back any more. So Leo wouldn’t turn and catch his tears that were falling without his permission because he cried at the drop of a hat and--

“I’m just scared.”

There was a pause, and a creak of the bed. And a long silence.

Mikey sniffled as quietly as he could.

Another creak.

Then Leo’s voice sounded closer, a little more gentle.

“I had a nightmare about you.”

He blinked. That wasn’t what he expected.

“Uh-- I kind of know?” He remembered the details vividly enough-- the warehouse, Sister Krang snapping his neck, way awful. But this was after the warehouse, so--

“Raph told you?” Leo said in confusion. “I mean, I never gave him the details...”

--that wasn’t right. Mikey peered out from his shell to see Leo peering back, and his brother gave him a tiny smile. It didn’t quite reach his eyes, but it was encouraging. “No, I, um… remember how we mind melded at the warehouse? It kind of stuck around during all your fever dreams.”

“Oh.” Leo frowned. “I don’t really remember those.”

“Good,” Mikey said fervently. “Don’t. They’re awful.”

“Heh. Sorry.”

“Not your fault.” He sank back into his shell, but he felt a little better. Leo wasn’t being so cold. He hated it when Leo was cold. “So this was another dream…?”

“...yeah. It was a while ago, right after you showed me your arms that first time. Before… Raph.”

Oh, right. Before everything went to hell. (Again. Hah.)

“I dreamt about you opening the portal,” Leo went on quietly, “And you were trying to save me, and you kind of… just broke apart. Shattered to pieces. And I had to watch that, and the portal closed, and I-- I was stuck and you were—”

Oh.

(If he had a nickel for every time he’d thought oh in the last ten minutes--)

“I didn’t want to be there, Mikey. I promise, I really, really enjoy, you know, being alive. I love you guys! I’m not secretly harbouring a death wish, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

He paused, and when he spoke again, his voice was a lot quieter.

“But that terror—it goes both ways, you know?”

He felt Leo lay hands on his shell and try to lift him into a hug.

Which was… very sweet until reality kicked in and he popped back out in alarm just in time to see his big brother go pale.

“Oh my god, Leo!” He scrambled out fully, wiping at his face before he helped Leo settle back, and he couldn’t help the faintly hysterical giggle. “You really are a dumbass.”

“...I did it on purpose to get you to come out…?” Leo’s voice was wheezy, and he gave Mikey a watery smile.

“Liar.”

“Okay, you got me.” He wilted against the pillows. “But not about the important stuff, okay?”

“Idiot,” Mikey muttered without heat. He patted at Leo’s shoulder. “Need meds?”

“...nah. It’s actually not too bad, I just need a minute.”

“Okay.” He paused. Argument maybe averted, but… he wasn’t done. He could just do this a little less meanly. Especially if Leo was willing to talk to him.

“I do believe you,” he said after a moment, because that was important.

“Okay, good.”

“So… you did the whole heroic cool death wish line because you were scared I was gonna get hurt?”

Leo huffed in amusement, but his tiny smile faded. “Mostly, yeah. I was trying to buy you time. And my first attempt just got you hurt more, so… I went the rage route.”

Oh yeah. Leo asking for permission to treat his wounds. That had gone poorly, to say the least. Mikey smiled weakly. “Well, you picked a winner. I got so mad at you.” He still was, but it felt a little better, to pick at this.

“Yeah, well, the Bubblegum Bitch ran on murder and spite. I figured she’d love to see us screaming at each other. And…”

He hesitated.

“And?” Mikey prompted.

Leo closed his eyes. “I didn’t think I could handle watching you open a portal to... that place. Not with the damage it did the first time. Not ever again because of me. I’m not the only one who nearly died here, y’know.”

Mikey frowned. “I didn’t—”

“Don’t try that with me, Mikey.”

He shut his mouth with a snap. Took a deep breath, because he wasn’t going to yell again, and this was… a softer kind of hurt. He got it. He was starting to get Leo. So he had to continue.

“You think I could handle watching you die because I didn’t open one?” He was proud of how even his voice was. Hah. The doctor was back in session. “You said it yourself, terror goes both ways. Stalling can only go so far. By definition!”

“Okay, at this point we’re gonna end up going in circles,” Leo said dryly. “They’re both valid points, okay? But if you can understand why you risked your life in there, can you get why I’d do the same?”

“...because we’re both idiots?” he muttered.

Leo snorted a faint laugh. And Mikey finally grinned at him, before sobering. Because…

“What about before?”

Leo’s face shuttered blank so fast he almost regretted asking.

Almost.

Especially as the look broke a moment later under a lazy smile, which set his teeth on edge. “You’re gonna have to narrow it down a bit, little bro.”

Okay. If he was gonna be like that.

“Mhm, mm-hmm.” Mikey nodded, shifting enough to sit cross-legged on the bed, and pretended to write into a notebook. “Patient very sensitive on this subject, a little too late on deflecting comment and accompanying I am full of shit smile…”

“Oh, for-- you can’t doctor me, you don’t have your stupid doctor glasses.”

“Patient deflecting more… by making… immersion-breaking jokes—” He broke off and mimed looking over a pair of imaginary glasses at Leo and grinned cheekily through the churning in his gut. Two could play at this game. “All our stuff is packed. You’re gonna have to pretend, bro.”

“I don’t want to,” Leo said flatly, smile gone. “I’m not in the mood for imaginary doctors today. Can’t you just be Mikey?”

“I don’t know, can I?” Mikey retorted, voice still even. Never mind he probably still had drying tear tracks on his face. “Because apparently you can’t talk to Mikey.”

“I can talk to you just fine!”

“Without babying me.”

“I’m not—”

“Or lying. You know exactly what ‘before’ I’m talking about! I mean, how often do you throw yourself through one way portals, anyway?”

“As Dee would say, approximately never, because I can honestly say I’ve never thrown myself through a one way portal in my—”

Mikey slammed his hand down on the bedside stand so hard his paint bottles shook, two of them outright teetering and falling off the edge. Leo flinched back, sentence unfinished, his expression frozen somewhere between jackass and terrified.

“Really?” he hissed. “You’re gonna deflect now by splitting hairs?”

Leo blinked, mouth still hanging open for a moment before he collected himself. “Very professional observation,” he said faintly, voice shaking. “You should write that down in your imaginary notebook! Also, I’m pretty sure therapists aren’t meant to terrify their patients. You could lose your imaginary license and then where would we be?”

Mikey stared at him, face dark and arms folded. “And now you’re deflecting by pissing me off.”

Leo held his stare for maybe three seconds before he broke and rolled away—gingerly, clearly painfully—to face the wall again. “’m sorry. I really just wanna… I don’t know. Get my shell painted. Can we talk about this some other day?”

Mikey sucked in a breath, loudly and obnoxiously, because he wanted Leo to know he was angry. Then he rolled to collect the bottles that had fallen to the floor. The red one hadn’t been closed properly and he winced at the flecks on Draxum’s carpet. Maybe they could claim it was blood. He’d probably be less outraged, all things considered.

He knew as well as Leo there would be no other day. If this didn’t get talked about now, he’d be looking forward to Leo making sure they weren’t in the same room alone together for weeks. He was angry enough he wondered spitefully for a moment if he should beat him to it and ignore his lying ass like a--

...like a wound up little brother who was easily riled by someone who knew exactly which buttons to press. Sure, Leo would feel like shit about it, but Leo would also be relieved. Dodged that therapist bullet, right? Enough time would pass it would be too hard to bring up again.

Until the next time he pulled this stunt. (Leo wasn’t a cat, he didn’t have nine freaking lives--)

“Was there really no other way?” he asked bluntly.

Leo hunched in on himself with a faint hiss, and Mikey sat there behind him, his arms full of paint, and wondered how far to push. He wanted to know. Leo had said there was no death wish, and Mikey believed him about his reasoning in the warehouse. If it wasn’t for how Leo shut him down immediately when he asked more directly, he’d have let this go. There was something he was missing.

He had to push the right way, though. Demanding answers from a traumatised person was, okay, maybe not the best strategy? And Leo was absolutely traumatised, no matter how many shit eating grins he’d thrown over the last few weeks while being half dead. (And then half dead again.) He’d come back out of Mikey’s portal a complete mess and hadn’t talked about it since. Krang Prime had been terrifying before his only target had been his brother.

And Leo had deliberately locked himself in with a murderous alien because…

Hero moves are totally your style.

...because that’s what heroes do?

Bullshit.

“How’s your hand?”

Leo’s question took him by surprise—and hurt besides, with how colourless his tone was. Mikey frowned at him before he looked down at his hands, and—right. Probably losing his temper and hitting furniture wasn’t very, uh, wise. But he flexed his fingers, answering in a subdued voice. “Fine.”

...he had an idea. Take a page out of Leo’s book, lure him in with less threatening subjects. Mikey paused, biting his lip, knowing this could also backfire-- but if it did, it would be less devastating than the direct route. He could try again later.

So he sighed. “And… fine. I’ll let it go.”

“For now, huh.”

“...forever, if you need me to. I just—wanted to understand,” he said, turning away to start stacking the paint bottles neatly on the dresser again. “I know we weren’t there to help, and I’m sorry—”

“Do not apologise for that,” Leo cut in sharply. “You got slammed into free fall and nearly died. What kind of jerk do you think I am?”

“But Raph had to come after us and you were alone.” And that hurt to remember. His hands trembled. “And then you didn’t even warn us. You didn’t even say goodbye. You just jumped straight to—”

“There wasn’t time for anything else,” Leo whispered. “At least, I didn’t think there was. Okay?”

--that was progress. Mikey leaned forward eagerly, ready to push for more detail-- and then hesitated. He’d just said he would let it go.

So he made himself shut up and sit there quietly, hands in his lap, fingers curled inward so he didn’t fidget.

And waited.

“...Yeah, I keep thinking now about other stuff I might have been able to do,” Leo said finally. “And like, it’s all maybes and what ifs and maybe none of it would have worked and maybe some of it would have, but there wasn’t any time, and I’m not-- I mean, it’s easy to come up with stuff after. I still don’t know if I could have made a better choice. Okay? I just did… I did what I had to. It wasn’t some grand gesture or, like, ‘oh no, this is all my fault, I’ll throw my life away to fix it,’ it was-- we’d never get another chance, and I couldn’t live with what would happen if we lost.”

…

Right, so there was a lot to unpack there.

“You think the invasion is your fault?” he asked cautiously.

“Not… really,” Leo said, and Mikey wished he’d turn around again so he could see his brother’s face. “Like, you know, I get it. The Foot and the Krang are more to blame for this than me, but I was stupid. So there’s fault, and then there’s responsibility. If I hadn’t messed around and lost the key, maybe it wouldn’t have gotten this far. But I guess I don’t know that for sure?”

That sounded very much like someone had already had a go at him about this. His money would be on Donnie. What Mikey wanted to know, though, was whether Leo really meant it or whether he was just rattling off someone else’s argument.

“You also got the key back,” he pointed out, and Leo snorted.

“Yeah,” he said flatly. “At Raph’s expense.”

Mikey winced-- okay yeah, wrong tack to take. There was a lot he could say there about the fact that Raph was also capable of making his own choices, and he already knew Raph would prefer the whole temporary possession and scarred eye and shell over a dead brother. Just as he knew he would never, ever convince Leo of that, because they were all the same in that regard. It was hard, watching someone get hurt trying to protect you.

So hard. Mikey knew.

“Did you…” He paused, swallowed. Curled up on the bed itself, his shell to Leo’s, knees up to his chest. Maybe this was easier. “Did you think you had to make up for it? Is that why?”

He wasn’t sure if Leo’s soft huff of amusement was a good or a bad sign. “I already said. No death wishes.” His tone was more gentle than cutting, so that was hopeful. “Not on the alien ship, not in the warehouse. Just let it go.”

That wasn’t actually an answer to the question. Guilt could make you do so much stupid shit, and Leo still wanted him to drop it, which means there was more to this--

I couldn’t live with what would happen if we lost.

Mikey blinked.

“I need an oh jar,” he muttered.

“...yeah, because that makes sense.”

“Leo,” Mikey said evenly. “What did Casey say to you?”

There was a brief silence, and then Leo responded with genuine confusion. “Okay, that one you really are gonna have to narrow down—”

“About the future he came from.”

And from the way he heard Leo’s breath stutter to a halt, Mikey had his answer.

---------

He waited. Long enough to hear Leo unfreeze, breathing slow with just the faintest hint of shakiness. Long enough that he finally evened out, and Mikey kept still while he did it, not even touching him, back to back. He wanted to-- wanted to kind of turn and latch onto Leo and hug him, but from this angle he’d end up hurting a whole lot more than he’d help, so… in the end, he just gave him space.

Somewhere down the hall, one of Draxum’s clocks chimed.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Dumb question.”

“Hmm. Yeah, okay, I’ll give you that one. Will you please talk about it?”

“What’s the point?” Leo was barely audible. “It’s over now, not gonna happen. We just need to look after the one person it did happen for.”

“I think Casey’d disagree.”

“Casey has enough on his plate.”

“Well, he’s not here right now anyway. If there’s no point, why don’t you tell me?”

“Already covered that I don’t want to.”

The thing is, just by not telling him, Leo had basically confirmed for Mikey some pretty obvious key factors. This time he deliberately quashed the irritation at the thought of being babied. He got it. He did.

“So,” he said slowly, eventually, “I’m gonna assume you’re trying to protect me. Or us. From horrible, terrible, no good, bad future knowledge. Am I right?”

Leo’s silence was confirmation enough.

Mikey took a deep breath. Okay. He had it now. He hoped. (He also didn’t hope, because it was so bleak, but--)

“You know,” he said quietly, voice deliberately oh so casual, “When someone, like, drops in from some futuuure timeline—add reverb—to change the course of history, it kinda means that whichever future he came from is a lost cause. That much is obvious, you know?”

Silence.

Mikey sat up, glancing down at the huddle that was his brother.

“I know Donnie dies,” he said, and watched Leo flinch. He knew how Donnie died. That part, he would leave out just in case. “Raph woulda died before all of us. April—”

He stopped. The point was made and he was being cruel enough already. “I know I was still there at the end. So were you. Because we were the ones who sent him here.”

“Yeah,” Leo said quietly. “You opened a portal through time. Pretty amazing, bro.”

He smiled at that, a little sadly. “I know, right?”

“Be more amazing if you’d survived doing it.”

He’d figured as much, but hearing it still sent a sliver of nausea through him. And if Leo had known that much, the nightmares about Mikey shattering would just have been icing on the cake. And--

And--

“Everyone died,” he said, eyes wide. “Everyone. Except you.”

The way Leo tried to curl into himself at that could not be healthy for his injuries. This time Mikey did reach out, both hands patting at his brother’s shoulder tentatively before he latched on, trying to discourage the pretzeling. “Lee—”

“I know.”

“It didn’t happen!”

“I know!” Leo snapped. “Because I made sure it couldn’t!”

Mikey let go-- half startled by the outburst, half taken by surprise when Leo threw him off, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. Also not a good idea because Leo had barely managed standing earlier, so what the hell he thought he was doing-- but apparently he was content to sit on the edge of the mattress, using his good arm to keep himself propped up, his entire body curled away from his little brother.

Well. Too bad. Mikey crawled over the bed to sit next to him. And when Leo didn’t move away again, he huffed and wormed his way under that arm, offering a better support. Leo was rigid against him, but he didn’t flinch or try to push him away, so.

Win. Such as it was.

“I get it,” Mikey whispered.

“I didn’t want you to.”

“Yeah… I don’t get that part.”

“Because it’s—” Leo broke off, darting a look at him before he turned away. “It’s all I could think of. I made a big speech about how we could change the future after all, and then when you guys got knocked down, all I could think was that we’d tried so hard, and we still lost, and—and I thought-- I wasn’t thinking. I mean I was, but it was stupid and—”

He hadn’t heard Leo stammer around the point like this in a long time, and Mikey tipped his head against his shoulder, wrapping his arms around Leo’s. “s’not stupid, bro. Like—it’s a high stress situation, y’know? D’you think me or Donnie or Raph were coming up with super logical plans while we were raining into Staten Island? You know how that place drains your smarts away.”

That got a laugh out of Leo, at least, a half hiccupped one, and he shifted a little closer. He didn’t relax; Mikey could feel the tension practically vibrating through him, and he knew what was coming. He could probably cut to the chase now and sum it up for Leo in points so he didn’t have to.

He waited. It was better that way.

“I just...didn’t.” Leo said finally. “Didn’t—want to go through that. You know, I wasn’t being heroic or a martyr or whatever, I was being a coward, okay? Because Casey told me everyone died in the future—everyone—and I thought: if we lose here, I’m gonna have to live that future. You know, twenty years in a war we’re gonna lose so slowly, watching everyone die one by one until I’m the only one left, and I was terrified and I can’t—I can’t, Mikey, if it’s a choice between me and literally everyone else, you can’t ask me to watch everyone die—”

And his voice cracked and Leo shut up, and Mikey carefully shuffled up onto his knees and curled his arms around his brother’s neck and held on. Leo planted his face in the crook of Mikey’s neck, shoulders trembling.

But when he spoke, his voice was small, but very dry. “This is gonna be real painful in about thirty seconds, just warning—”

“Then shut the hell up and get back on the bed, idiot.”

Leo sniffled, voice even tinier. “Yes, Dr Therapist, sir.”

“Good boy.”

“Don’t tell the others?”

“Doctor patient confidentiality.”

“’kay. Good.”

Leo turned away, shuffling back onto the bed to collapse onto the pillows. Mikey hovered, not really sure what to do next. Did he leave him alone? Give him space? He’d normally just drape himself on Leo’s shell, but that wasn’t exactly a good idea, so--

The question was answered for him when Leo waved a hand in his general direction, looking for a limb to grab, and Mikey helpfully gave him an arm-- and was yanked down beside his brother who curled around him like he was a teddy bear, hiding his face again. Mikey wheezed, a faint mix of relief and amusement. “Oh, okay, it’s gonna be like this—”

“Shh,” Leo said, muffled and sodden-sounding. “Therapy’s over.”

The face against his neck was wet. Mikey held still for a moment, swallowing against his own tears, and then gave a small sigh, putting a hand on Leo’s head.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “I guess it is.”

---------

They lay there for a while. Mikey was perfectly content to be used as a teddy bear and kept his mouth shut, letting Leo get it out of his system, running his thumb over the ridges of the blue mask as his brother shook apart so quietly. As if he were ashamed of letting go. Or maybe it was just the fact that he was crying on his little brother. Mikey supposed that was breaking some kind of sibling hierarchy or some shit. Whatever.

He hadn’t really meant for the afternoon to go this way—it was kind of the opposite of a morale boost—but if this was the weight that his brother had been carrying around, better to deal with it now. Especially when nobody else was around to overhear.

(...he wasn’t really sure the others shouldn’t know about this. But unless it became an issue, for now, he’d do as Leo asked.)

“You’re not a coward, you know,” he said, much later. He doubted it was hours. He’d only heard Barry’s clock once. But Leo had stopped his ninja stealth crying into the crook of Mikey’s neck, so it was time.

“Mmm, ‘kay.”

“Don’t mmm ’kay me.” Mikey poked him. “I’m serious. I mean, what do you think a hero’s motivations are, anyway? They’re not doing it for the sake of looking all fancy for the camera. Or if they are, they’re not really a hero. They’re like-- that guy from Megamind, what’shisface, the Nice Guy—”

“Hal Stewart.”

“Exactly. And they don’t run around thinking, like—” He let go of Leo for a moment to air quote, even though Leo hadn’t resurfaced, not really. “’Egads, what is the most noble thing I can do at this exact point in time?’ Real heroes aren’t like… comic book heroes.”

Leo huffed a little against him. “You’re lucky I’m emotionally vulnerable right now or I’d have to throw hands.”

Mikey grinned. There he was. “Better keep you emotionally vulnerable then.”

“A supervillain move if I ever heard one.”

“That’s me, baby! I’m so lucky I have all these moral brothers to guide me to the side of the light.”

“Plus Donnie.”

“Oh yeah, plus that guy. I guess.”

This time, the huff sounded more like a laugh. Mikey snuggled in closer, gave him a moment to relax, and then made his next point, as softly as he could.

“Why do you think Raph protected you?”

He felt the jolt go through Leo at that—felt a little guilty, it was kind of an ambush—but his brother was only rigid against him for a moment before relaxing again by degrees, and Mikey was relieved. Leo’s brain was online. And when Leo answered, he sounded more confused than upset.

“Because he’s a big brother? Because he saw me screw up and he didn’t want me getting hurt?”

“Mhm, mhm. Scared for you, right? Would rather take the fall than watch you get skewered?”

“...yeah.”

Oh, the guilt laden into that word. He couldn’t do much about that, except maybe push him and Raph together to talk it out at some point. “I see. So Raph’s a coward?”

“Wait, what?” Leo pulled back to stare at him in affront, eyes swollen and mask damp and not bothering to hide it in the least. “Raph’s the bravest one here, why would you—”

“My, my. Would you look at those double standards.” Mikey tsked at him, and waited for the penny to drop. And Leo was just as smart as Donnie, in his own way; it took him a bare second to frown and lean back, squinting at him, mouth half open like he was trying and failing to come up with an argument. “It’s not cowardly to protect the people you care about. It’s, like, the opposite. You did it in a really reckless way and yeah, maybe there was a better way, but if anyone tries to accuse you of cowardice, I’m gonna throw hands. That includes you, bee tee dubs.”

Leo blinked, and Mikey could practically see the calculation flashing across his expression. He wasn’t surprised when Leo all-out pouted at him. “Oh, I see how it is. Picking on an injured turtle when he’s down.”

Mikey gave him a flat look that said I know what you’re doing.

Leo’s pout turned into a sheepish smile. “Okay, okay,” he said. “I’ll keep any such thoughts of cowardice to myself then, wallow in them when your back is turned—”

Mikey swatted at him with a glare. “You won’t think them at all! Leonardo—” And paused as Leo’s smile sharpened into a grin, his reddened eyes bright with genuine humour. “Ohhh, someone’s feeling better! Good.” He smiled sweetly back, then pushed Leo’s face away from him with a hand. “But for serious, you might be kinda dumb sometimes, but you are like. The bravest coolest brother—”

“Mmm, I still think Raph is the bravest. I humbly accept coolest, though.”

“I’ll allow it.” He watched Leo another moment, then pulled away to scramble carefully over him for the bedside table, reasonably sure the crisis was over. “You still up to painting?”

There was a pause. Leo’s face screwed up hesitantly. “...you sure? I mean, not because of your hands, but—”

“We still got time.” He flipped a paintbrush up and deftly spun it between his fingers, giving Leo a pointed look. “And I hate not finishing an art piece once I start.”

“Have we started, though?” Leo said mildly. But he was already obediently shuffling back onto his stomach, propping the pillows up beneath his elbows.

“Therapy is art.”

“I’m not sure that’s correct.”

“I’m the one with the doctorates, shush now.”

“But you’re—”

“Uh-buh-buh-buh—” Mikey settled by Leo’s side, bonking his head gently with his brush. And time for one last ambush question. “Leo. If we’d still been up there with you at the end, do you think it might have gone differently?”

To his great relief, Leo didn’t even flinch at that one—he merely tilted his head, humming thoughtfully. Mikey gave him time, fishing through his bottles until he could find the right colours to make the mix he wanted.

If he was holding his breath a little, well… that wasn’t important. Turtles could hold their breath for a very long time.

“Hard to say,” Leo said softly. “But I’d like to think so. I mean, I could barely get him through the portal on my own. But the four of us definitely had him off balance for a while there, right? If we were all still up there… I mean. Let’s face it. We’re so much stronger together.”

Mikey sighed with relief. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe Leo about the death wish thing, but hearing it summed up like that made him feel a lot better. Especially when Leo frowned and twisted to catch his eye. “You better not feel guilty about that part, by the way.”

“Guilty? Nah.” He did a little, but Mikey also knew they’d done their best. “Bad that you got left on your own, yeah. We’re a team! It was hard...you know.” He smiled a little weakly. “Not being up there with you.”

“It was hard watching you fall.” Leo relaxed, letting his head drop onto the pillows. “Don’t tell him, but I was so glad when Raph got on the line, even if he was mad at me. It meant you guys had all got down safely.”

“He wasn’t mad,” Mikey pointed out.

“...I know. Bad choice of words.” Leo took a breath, sighed it out, sounding sleepy. “Scared.”

“Scary day.”

“Tell me about it. Wait, on second thought, don’t.” Leo waved a hand at him, not looking up. “Better idea. Tell me what you’re gonna paint instead.”

Yeah, time to change subject. Mikey hummed thoughtfully at him, leaning down off the bed to collect his tray. “I’m thinking… flowers.”

“Flowers, huh.”

“Yeah.” He traced dark edges of Leo’s repaired shell with the very tip of his brush, watching his brother carefully to see if it bothered him. When Leo didn’t move, he shifted back to mix paints. “They’ll be great at masking the damage, and if I have to stop for any reason, it won’t look weird. I��m thinking, hmm… marigolds, petunias… what’s a good red flower that isn’t a rose…”

Was that too pointed a comment? Probably. He grinned, counting the seconds until Leo lifted his head again, shifting to squint at him with suspicion.

“...red, orange, and purple?”

“Yeah,” he said innocently. “Great colour combo, don’t you think?”

“I feel you’re trying to tell me something.”

“Of course I am, dummy.” Mikey smiled at him. The sweetest, most sunshine smile he had at his disposal. “It’s a reminder that we’ve always got your back, no matter what.”

Leo stared back at him with an expression that was—just for a moment, probably against his will—fragile.

Then he turned sharply back away to stare at the wall, giving a snort. “More like you’re always on my back, you mush-dispenser.”

Mikey bit back his laugh at that. Leo could have that one; let him save some face, just this once. “It’s not too late for a dragon’s ass, you know.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Barry could be riding on it!”

“Mikey—”

“And throwing you off it to your doom—”

“Oh my god, that’s low, you monster—”

“Actually I think it’s high, it wouldn’t be much of a doom otherwise, c’mon, Leo, keep up.”

“I’m gonna duct tape you inside your shell and play you like bongos for a week straight.”

“Looking forward to it! I’ll mark my calendar!” But Leo was shaking with laughter now. Mikey tapped the end of the brush on his shell in warning, and Leo obligingly tried to keep still, switching to a yawn instead. “I would never, don’t worry. Tired?”

“A little.”

“Then sleep. I’ll be here. I’ll wake you when it’s done.”

“...kay.” Leo snuggled into the pillows without arguing, and his next words were heavily muffled and more a tired mumble than anything else. “Lvvyou.”

Mikey paused. Then smiled a little, putting a hand on his shell for a moment. “Lvvyou too, bro.”

“Oh, shush.”

He cackled at that, but said nothing, listening to Leo’s breaths even out.

He knew Leo pretty well—enough to wonder how much Leo still hadn’t told him, diverting with jokes and sassy comments about wallowing in cowardice. But this was a start. And a relief. If nothing else, Leo had been genuine about his motivations, both at the warehouse and at the portal. Terror and love, nothing more, nothing less. Mikey flexed his hands out, testing them one last time, looking at the fading welts still criss-crossing up his arms.

He could relate.

#rottmnt #rottmnt fic #no rest for the weary #(adjacent)#nekotsuki #this fought me tooth and nail #and was initially longer until I ran screaming at it with a hacksaw #I hope it's okay <3

22 notes · View notes

emmavoid · 3 years

Text

In which I go back over episodes 1-5 of Serial Experiments Lain in order to collect my thoughts on them before continuing on to a liveblog proper!

(this was done at butt-o-clock in the morning don't @ me for rambling/misspelling/etc)

Episode 1-

Lain’s shadow, and the shadows near her house, have an intensely weird pattern to them- like there's something hiding deeper within those shadows than any other shadows

The focus on humming powerlines, Lain’s asking them to be quiet- something/someone is trying to communicate with her, even this early on

The steam that comes from Lain’s fingers- at first I thought it was an intense imagination, but it felt similar to the steam coming from her computer in later episodes- another early sign that she’s already in the Wired

“Why did you die?” “God is here.” the first mention of god in the show

As a whole Lain’s family seems off; her parents weirdly robotic, inhuman- almost monstrous in their appearances, and her sister distant; lain did not know them well, and so these simulations of them suffer

When another student dies by jumping in front of the transit train, lain has a strange experience of “viewing” the student’s death while surrounded by fog. I originally thought this was more of her powerful imagination, but having since connected the “fog” or steam to computers, i think this was her simulating the event over again in an attempt to cope with her very human feelings

“Come to the Wired as soon as you can.” More communications from “the universe” to Lain

Episode 2-

the night scene at the beginning of each episode has been, mostly, a repetition of itself, with more communications; however, with Lain not present for most of them, who are they directed towards?

The girl in the nightclub Cyberia- looking at her again on a re-view, she does seem similar to Lain, but wears earrings- something I’ve noticed the “digital” Lain in the opening has that differentiates her from the more innocent, child-like, human Lain.

The explanation of Accel cuts to Lain in class- with the camera specifically focusing on her ear. It seems as if, throughout the show, she’s learning certain information without seeking it out.

The first appearance of the digital ghosts, like what would become of the “fake” version of Lain’s sister in a later episode, plus the figure she “imagined” after the train slow-down.

The man with the gun high on Accel- a test for human-Lain? She freezes, drawing his ire, but when he recognizes her as the Other Lain and points his gun at her, she speaks in a different voice- possibly the Other Lain’s? Possibly… a God-Lain’s voice. The man kills himself as if controlled by an outside force, and Lain appears shocked. I think that God-Lain- the one who has been communicating with Lain all this time- took over to ensure that Lain’s failure of this test wouldn’t lead to her death (or possibly, to interrupting her growth and forcing some kind of reset?)

Episode 3-

After the events of last episode, Lain is shaken- she can barely respond to Arisu. When she returns home, her family is nowhere to be seen- possibly because them existing during all of what happened would be detrimental to her growth? But when she falls asleep at her computer then checks on her family again… their presence or absence isn’t shown.

Another case of information about something strange- this time the Psyche- with a focus on Lain’s ear; again, picking up some kind of information.

“We saw someone die right in front of us yesterday, but we’re acting like it’s something we saw in a movie.” lain's friends are the most fleshed out "people" in the simulation because she knew them the best- and that's why none of them could react properly to the murder in that club, because Lain had never experienced what their reactions would really be like to something traumatic like that.

Lain’s Psyche shows up in her locker- perhaps put there by God-Lain?

The first mention of The Knights, who may have created the Psyche. Are they possibly a front for God-Lain?

Lain’s father attempts to leave immediately when she shows him the Psyche- further evidence that he can only react how he’s “programmed” to? The guy in the club who recognizes Lain- God-Lain has definitely been visiting here regularly.

“I saw you once, in the Wired. You were totally different.” God-Lain doesn’t seem to mind folks knowing about her. Is she leaving hints towards her existence for Lain on purpose?

Lain’s sister is definitely more fleshed out than her parents- when the Agents at the door try to tell her to ignore them she seems properly weirded out

Episode 4-

The origin of my connecting steam/fog to computing power- lain has a fan set up to directly cool part of her computer, releasing steam/condensation

Lain’s parents continue to have strange, robotic responses, but her sister seems genuinely concerned for her.

The main “plot” of this episode- the crossing over of the two net games- seems mostly unrelated to Lain? But it does seem to be causing suicides and murders, showing direct interaction between the Wired and the “real” world

I love the speed with which Lain is acclimating to computers and the Wired- contacting a professional for assistance with the Psyche is a great detail

The more adult-seeming Lain- so, possibly, God-Lain- appears to ask the DJ at the club about the game. But, she’s not there when he looks, and after that scene Lain has suddenly learned about and downloaded the game in question. Was it maybe Human-Lain tapping into her latent god powers to learn this information from him?

A Lain travels through the net game, and seems to try to contact a fleeing player. “I can’t go where you are.” The voice sounds much more like Human-Lain? Then the player encounters a child and kills her- seemingly in-game, but then one or more corpses can be seen wrapped in sheets afterwards as Lain watches. Highly unlikely that this guy had a real gun IRL- especially in Japan- so this seems to be more Wired/IRL fuckery.

“My buddies and I think this might be the work of the Knights too.” A point against my theory of the Knights being God-Lain?

“I’ll be able to enter it soon. … Don’t worry, I’m still me.” “Sometimes, I wonder…” Yeah, there’s no way this is a real reaction her real father would have.

“The Knights do not physically exist. They can be thought of as a religion that is spreading through the Wired.” And then this quote feels like another point towards my God-Lain theory!

the two men who were spying on lain... I think might've been actual outside agents given representation so that human-Lain would have the chance to deal with them- which, she did, by tapping into her god-powers to destroy their spy-glasses (which, when she did, caused her computer's fans to go into overdrive to keep it cooled)

Episode 5-

Lain hears directly from a being calling itself God, before the episode jumps to focusing on her sister for most of the episode.

This episode felt like it was jossing my theory- how could this whole reality be for Lain’s benefit if her sister was experiencing strange stuff?

“There is nothing that you don’t know. I can’t tell you a story that doesn’t exist.” On some level, Lain is both God-Lain and Human-Lain. These conversations with the doll, the mask, then fakes of her parents throughout the episode, seem to be more of Lain learning without personally experiencing- being fed information by her other self.

“The other side is overcrowded. The dead will have nowhere to go.” Isn’t this straight up a quote from one of the Romero zombie flicks?

All the talk of prophecy and “fulfill the prophecy”... Lain seems to be on a set path towards entering the Wired, which is part of why it seems like this is just her reliving an approximation of something that already happened.

A connection between the Knights and The Prophecy. The fake of Lain’s sister isn’t the only one to encounter word of the prophecy, since we hear about it from Lain’s friends as well

Hmm… I hadn’t thought of it before, but, mayhaps the fake of Lain’s sister doesn’t show until the strange holo-effects of her water at dinner? None of the really weird stuff happens to her until after… maybe this was a copy of her then, made during that moment before being pushed into this prophecy-horror scenario?

The Lain’s Sister who enters the house crying then sees herself disappears- or, it seems she does, until Lain sees a digital ghost of her, like she had previously seen in the school… after seeming to see this other self of hers, the real Lain’s sister seems… robotic and nonchalant. Was she a full, real person before this happened?

Theory Overall thus far-

my theory thus far is that lain's already living in the wired, and is, in fact, a god there- she is both Lain and The Knights; but, the more human part of her, Lain, is reliving her pre-wired memories with slight alterations in order to help her get to the point where she can accept her godhood.

the opening of the show ties into my theory too- that god-Lain (portrayed in the intro with earrings) is spread throughout the world, controlling everything, while human-Lain (in her much more childish outfit) is just experiencing and trying to understand the world

Things that were pointed out to me-

Arisu’s name is a romanization of Alice (referencing Alice in Wonderland)

Be inc and Copland being old computer companies

#serial experiments lain #lain #blind liveblogging #summary #i'm bad at tags #whoops #Spoilers #Lain spoilers

27 notes · View notes

passionate-hedgehog · 3 years

Text

Impasse pt 2

Impasse is a 3-part series revolving around Reader entering society in Regency-Era London. Completely inspired by me binging the entirety of Bridgerton in less than 24 hours, Impasse will end with either Duke Damien Haas x Reader, or Courtney Miller x Reader.

Pt 2.

Pairings: Eventual Damien Haas x Reader, Eventual Courtney Miller x Reader

Warnings: None

Word: 2187

A/N: I know that my masterlist links arent working. If you try to use it, and things dont go where you want them to take you...well...I warned you. I’m turning this into a 4 part fic. There’s no way I can comfortably fit what I want into 3 separate sections. Part 3 will be out when this hits 15 notes! Thank you to everyone that liked and interacted with the first part. And thank you to the fans of my toher works. I love all of you omg. Enjoy ♥

Chapter Summary: The social Season has officially begun. Deals are being made amongst friends and old flames are fanning. Will there be any sparks igniting as well?

“What do you suspect he wants to talk about?” After the morning activities with Lord Haas in the drawing-room, Y/n and her handmaid found themselves busy with average daily activities.

Caroline’s expression was nonplussed as she stared at the back of Y/n’s head. The women were preparing Y/n for bed. The latter was in her chair as the housemaid brushed through her hair.

“Why must you give me that look every time I open my mouth?”

“Why must such ridiculous things come out of your mouth every time you open it?”

They discovered Shayne in his favorite study, books littering the desk he occupied. Y/n would always ask him when he planned on attending university but the young man tended to reply with something akin to “that’s not for me”. The young woman didn’t understand. She knew how smart her twin was, how clever he could be given the situation. Mayhaps one day he’d see the things he could accomplish.

“To what do I owe this visit?” The fair-haired man asked as his sister sat at the opposite side of his desk. A rather thick tome set open before him while his right hand held a fountain pen to sheets of parchment.

Y/n perched her arms along the length of the armrests and sat comfortably. “I thought I might see what you’re up to. But I find that you’re doing nothing different than normal. When are you going to talk to Father about university?”

Shayne restraint from rolling his eyes visible as he went back to his books, and scratching at the parchment. “When are you going to talk to me about Courtney?”

“What? That has nothing to do with...Shayne. My favorite twin, you could be doing so many more things if you were off to study. Collegiately.”

This caused the young man to sigh. “Y/n-,”

“I’m being serious here, Shayne. You’re in here, every day, reading and writing. It’s almost a different book a week. Sometimes, your nose is in a book about far-off adventures in distant lands and sometimes it’s about the history and tragedies of the lands around us. Look that book right there.” She motioned to the collection of parchment before Shayne. “I gather that one is not Shakespeare. What is it? The history of France?”

Shayne lowered his head back to the pages before putting his pen back on the parchment, not meeting his sister’s eyes. “Spain, as a matter of fact.”

Y/n held a blank countenance.

“I’m trying my hand at the Spanish language. Does that quell your curiosity?”

Y/n smirked. “You’re just proving my point.”

“I’ll make you a deal,” The young man laid his fountain pen on the parchment and clasped his hands together before leaning forward. “I’ll talk to Father about university if you read and respond to Courtney’s letter..”

The young woman grumbled and stood up from her chair. “Suddenly, I have a desire for some poetry. Caroline, I’ll be in the library. I’ll call for you if I need you.”

The handmaid nodded from where she stood by the fireplace, her hands clasped in front of her as Y/n walked to the door. “Of course.”

Y/n turned one last glance to her twin before exiting the room and found Caroline in the chair Y/n’s ownself just left. The handmaid was smiling at Shayne as he talked. The rosy tint to Caroline’s cheeks as the man laughed sparked Y/n’s curiosity yet still managed to make her smile. It was cute if she had to be honest. The handmaid had the tendency, lately, to be quieter than usual. While yes, Caroline was well-mannered and modest, it was different when Shayne was around. Had it just been the two women, Caroline could be witty. Y/n enjoyed that in the handmaid. It was refreshing and reminded her of a long-lost friend.

“For Heaven’s sake, Courtney. You’re not even here but you’re still here.” The young woman fiddled with a woven bracelet made from brightly colored twine.

“Y/n?” A voice called from next to her as her hand was on the doorknob to the library.

“Oh, Lord Haas! I did not realize you were here.” Y/n peered behind her companion and to her own left and right, in case she missed any other person.

“It’s just me. And please, call me Damien. We’ve known each other since we were young, back when we had all of our friends amongst us.” The duke gave a gentle pleading look.

“I was a tad cheeky back then. I wasn’t going to call you by any title.”

Damien cocked an eyebrow and smirked. “You’re still a tad cheeky to this day. Am I wrong?”

Y/n’s matched his smirk before opening the door to the library and making her way inside. A witty remark was caught in her throat when her eyes caught someone standing next to the nearest shelving of books.

“Court-Courtney?” Her hand slipped off of the knob of the door. “What are you doing here?”

The light-haired woman bit her lip. “I wanted to visit. You never responded to any of my letters. I thought...I thought maybe something had happened.”

“You...I can’t...Excuse me.” The young woman turned around in haste and scurried away. She found herself in the empty kitchen trying to breathe through what just happened.

Good going. You’re such a coward.

“I’m such a coward.”

“No, you’re not.” Damien had followed her into the cooking area. He led her to a chair and guided her to sit. “Some refreshment might make it better?”

Y/n watched her old friend as he went about collecting items. She noticed how at ease he seemed going through her icebox and cupboards. How expertly he sliced up fruit. She couldn’t help but notice how handsome he looked in his livery, as well, but there was enough going on inside of her head. Damien approached the table with a modest platter and placed it in the center of the table before he sat himself in a chair across from her.

“I figure that some soft cheese might do some good as well as figs and berries. I hope they comfort you the way they do me.” He had gestured towards the food.

Y/n gave a thankful nod before reaching for a bite. “Thank you, Damien. This means very much to me.”

The man grabbed fig and brie, biting into them. “If you need to talk, I’m all ears. You don’t have to if you don’t want to, of course. But I’m here.”

Y/n fidgeted with a slice of fig fruit. She mentally weighed her options before speaking again. “I haven’t seen Courtney in over a year. We got into an argument...about the things she wanted to do and where she wanted to be in life. I regret it. I regret it every day. I let our relationship ...decay...because I didn’t approve of what she wanted to do.”

“She wanted to work with horses, right? And entertain? That’s where she’s been this whole time?” Damien bit into some brie.

“I was treating her like she was someone like me. Someone that already had their life plans laid out for them. She was able to choose what she wanted in life.”

The young man studied Y/n’s face. “Y/n, were you...jealous that she had such an opportunity to live a dream that you tried burning bridges with her? She was your best friend. That had to be a hard decision to make.”

“It’s about more than that. I’m happy she was able to live how she wanted to...thrilled that she got to work with her passions. But..I wasn’t there with her. She wasn’t with me. It didn’t matter what she was doing...I just wanted it to be with..with me.

“I had this asinine vision that society would be in a different place by now. That two close friends could...be closer. And that I wouldn’t have to feel like I was left alone for the rest of my life. I see so many friendships for what they could be. The feelings that I’ve had over someone that will never be attainable I see in others. All of the time. Especially while I promenade! And it makes me sad for those yearning and it reminds me of what I can never have.”

There was a moment of silence before Y/n’s eyes widened in the realization of what she had just let out. “Oh my. I-You didn’t hear any of what I just said. Promise me!”

Damien laid a soft hand on Y/n’s arm. “I promise. I had no idea that you had harbored such...persuasions. Not that it’s anything you need to feel sorry about. You can’t help it. Your reactions, for sure, but...not for what you feel.”

“You, Lord Haas, will make someone a fine husband someday. Maybe even sometime soon? It is our season, finally, after all.” Y/n tried to hide her watery eyes behind a coy smirk. “Someone is bound to catch your eye.”

Damien breathed out before responding. “Someone already has, if I’m being honest. But maybe I’m far-reaching more than I originally thought.”

His words seemed to spark a sense of excitement through Y/n. She sat up straight and gripped the edges of the table.

“Who is she? Will you point her out to me while we promenade? No. I have an even better idea; can you introduce her to me at one of the balls?” Y/n was nearly on the edge of her seat. “Damien! This is exciting!”

“It’s not quite that intriguing, I promise you. Especially since nothing can come of it.” The man picked at the fruit on the platter. “But I digress. It seems that you’ve got your own sorting out to do. What are you going to do about callers if Courtney plans on joining in on the festivities this season? She may not come from one of the families but she has enough friends.”

“Then I hope she enjoys herself. For all I know, everything I felt could have been my very own thoughts and not hers. If she’s here to find a match, then let her. If she’s here to have fun, then by all means...I hope she has it. I just hope I can keep my heart to myself this time. I don’t want to get hurt again.”

“Y/n,” The man licked his lips before continuing. “Might I suggest trying to find out what exactly it is that your heart wants before you do anything else with it?”

The young woman topped her fig slice with some brie. “I’m going to pretend that you did not just offer such advice. Who would even think about courting a woman trying to figure out whether or not she wants her story to end with another woman? You slay me, Lord Haas.”

“I’m being entirely serious. Y/n, you could…” Damien seemed to pause before paying very close attention to fiddling with a berry. “We could stop your callers from coming around and maybe I could use a distraction. We could work together.”

“What? Like...you and I? Together together?”

The german-born duke hesitated before taking one of Y/n’s hands into both of his. “We could go to promenade as a match. And then to the balls, And the parties. No one would be the wiser. You could use this time to figure out what it is you truly want. And then who.”

The young woman looked down at their hands, hers fitting inside his the way she suspects other women her age dream of, yet, she wasn’t sure what it did to her. What he offered could very much help her, but what if Courtney got the wrong idea? What if everyone got the wrong idea?

“But what if it went right?”

“Hmm?” Damien asked in confusion.

“Nevermind.” Y/n shook the thoughts from her head. “Damien, I think...you may be on to something. You’re right. I...I don’t know how to be a...a wife to anyone. Let alone a man. And I won’t know until I figure myself out a little bit more. And then if this girl is running through your mind and you firmly believe that you can never court her…”

“Trust in me with this. I always thought she was someone I could never hope to marry, far too good for me in so many ways. But...maybe this will help me to see who else is out there. Maybe I’ll find my perfect match. And if we come out as a couple, it’ll provide good reason for the other men to leave you alone.”

“Too bad they just don’t leave me alone as is.”

“I believe Olivia said the same thing after she met Sam.”

“Heavens, that was a riot.” Y/n lifted her pinky to solidify the agreement with her friend. “Lord Damien Haas, I believe we might have ourselves a deal.”

#damien haas x reader #courtney miller x reader #shayne topp #ian hecox #olivia sui #noah grossman #keith leak jr #smosh fan fiction #smosh fanfic #smosh #bridgerton x smosh #bridgerton au

31 notes · View notes

vbee-miya · 4 years

Text

[romantic matchup]

╒═ @peeshposheddie ═╛

𝙵𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑 𝚞𝚙 - 𝚁𝚘𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝙺𝚘𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚋𝚎

Okay hear me out. You collect mangas. He’s a manga artist? Please bruh this wasn’t intended is. This was destiny (I had a last minute realization)

I feel like with Rohan he’d be a great cuddler. Headcanon, but when he’s in the middle of drawing a manga arc and you just want that attention he’d allow you to sit on his lap while he works at godspeed..

FKHAKDFJHD u cant tell me that's not cute.

With your personality being hyperactive he’d find that not necessarily adorable, but he’d definitely want you by his side for a manga character inspo, because you seem, well very lively.

He doesn’t really like distractions while he works, but boy oh boy when it comes to you, he listens to what you want, say, need, etc.

He thinks the way you cope with your ADHD is interesting and sometimes when you bombard yourself with tons of other stuff he’d watch in the distance perhaps leaning on a door while you're busy playing horror like games.

Speaking of which when you’re really into the game and he can tell he’d just grab his sketch book and try to sketch every reaction you have in god like speed.

Being a manga artist can be difficult especially since so many across the world read his mangas and he has two fanboys living in the neighborhood. A good nap is what he needs.

He won’t often take naps, but if he feels like he’s done enough drawing he’ll most definitely join you.

I feel like he won’t be a fan of hikes. He doesn’t seem like an outdoorsy person ya know?

But a stroll in the town? Hell ya!

You’d most likely be the dominant one in this relationship (yes this can go for both ways. Depending on how you interpret it)

With your child-like personality he’s like a mother to you. You love to clean, he'll clean with you AND your stuff.

Can’t cook? Pfft please this man will cook you high quality Gordan Ramsey cuisines.

I feel like when he cooks it’ll be similar to him writing the manga, he’s always trying to come up with different ideas. New inspirations.

One time you both went to Trattoria Trussardi and the moment you both went back home you’d see him try to attempt it. Wasn’t the best compared to Tonio’s, but it iz what it iz ya know.

⊹⊹⊹⊹⊹⊹⊹⊹⊹

I feel like the down side to the relationship is that he wouldn’t understand your phobia or why you hate bugs. Scream that there’s a bug don’t worry he’ll grab it, but i’m telling you luv run away from him like asap. Cus that man will dissect the insect. Of course for more realistic reasons being a manga artist. “I don’t understand Y/N. The fluids coming out now the lifeless creature is natural. What’s so scary about it? It’s just reality.” “Are you kidding me?! Rohan THE REALITY IS THAT IT LOOKS LIKE VOMIT!!”

𝚂𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑 𝚞𝚙 - 𝙳𝚒𝚘 𝙱𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚘

...We don’t talk about the vampire Dio..Cuz he’sssssssssssssss - kinda funky.

But it doesn't matter. Dio is Dio.

Let’s start off with your interesting source of weaponry collections.

Sure you’ll show them off here and there, but Dio? Nah. (word of warning, it’s best if he doesn’t know about that) But if he does Just know…..If you see some of them missing it’s most likely because he’s gone mad and is now using them for very Illegal reasons, BUT since he's a vampire stand user. Nothing can stop him.

You love horror? SAY LESS! Living with him is like a horror movie. This isn’t your normal horror simulation game.

Please bruh, he lives in the dark and shadows. And he’s kinda creepy. But attractive. Still creepy.

You say you’re good at cleaning? Let’s just say uhhh...maid dress. Definitely not canon or fanon idfk really. But he’d most definitely love to see u in one. Catch him sitting in the shadows cross legged as you clean.

Definitely not creepy at all.

AYO tell me why I can see him being the dominant one in this relationship.

Cuz he is. This man will have the upper hand in everything. Even in a relationship.

When Dio isn’t batshit crazy I hate the way I’m feeling about him, but vampy Dio would most definitely give the best cuddles.

It’s just y’all two in the dark room, you on his chest (he’s most definitely gonna be shirtless) but he’ll drag his fingers down your spine giving you chills that’ll make you shuffle just a little closer to him thus resulting in him pulling you closer.

I hate that I just wrote that. I really do. Anyways he’ll whisper shit like “I’ll make sure we can stay like this forever.” Please bruh, he’ll have a deep raspy like voice. Tell me he won't I dare you.

CHILE ANYWAYSSSS SSSOOOOOOOOOO

⊹⊹⊹⊹⊹⊹⊹⊹⊹

Downside is that you’re not very into PDA. Too bad he is. He barely goes out in the day so then when he does it'll be night time, even so who in the hell would see y’all kissing in the pits of the moonlight on top of a building or roof. No one…

But wait what about young Dio? Ya...loads of PDA. Most definitely in front of Jonathan Joestar.

So that’s your pick Young Dio or Vampy Dio

On the contrary...You’ll definitely be getting loads of praises & he’d make sure you’d know he’s dead serious about them.

𝙽𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑 𝚞𝚙 - 𝙻𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝙰𝚋𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚘

This man I’m not even going to get into it. He really just doesn’t seem like the romantic type to me.

Even if he is I’d find it hard for him to keep up with your hyperactive personality.

He’d think collecting things is just child's play and that you should do other things besides that. Oh not to mention, but he wouldn’t understand why you’d be so scared to watch a horror movie, but yet play such games. It wouldn’t be logical to him.

He’d think the way you cope with your anxiety is strange, but intriguing.

It’ll just annoy him. You’ll be doing one thing then suddenly you’re onto something new. “Y/N just stick with one task. It’s not that hard.” “But it’s a way to help co-” “I said what I said.” This mf will just leave not giving a shit on what you’d say.

Praises? Nah it’ll just be him spitting borderline insulting comments.

Nice One KaTarA.

⊹⊹⊹⊹⊹⊹⊹⊹⊹

Plus side to the relationship...there really isn’t anything he’d just find you irritating. Probably when you’re sleeping? That’s when the house would be very quiet and who knows mayhaps this man does have a change of heart. If you’re asleep on the couch expect to wake up in the bed all tucked up nicely. With food ready to be served.

Either that I'm not really seeing that much romantic value with Leone Abbicchio just in general.

Again another really fun request. Hope you enjoyed your results @peeshposheddie. Sorry if I might’ve left any blanks. Or if the characters weren’t who you’d hope to get m(_ _)m

——————

For those who are still waiting please be patient. I've had a pretty busy schedule and workload. DM me if your request has been pending for about a month now.

𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝙲𝚑𝚎𝚌𝚔 𝙼𝚢 𝙽𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚐𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 (𝙿𝚒𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝙿𝚘𝚜𝚝) 𝙵𝚘𝚛 𝚁𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚄𝚙𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚜

#jjba matchup #jojo’s bizarre adventure matchup #matchup *.·:·.✧

22 notes · View notes

theskyehealers · 3 years

Photo

Lost in her drawings, she had propped her bare feet up on the desk and tucked the sheets of parchment on her lap, smudging and drawing lines, attempting to make something of those fine lines. She had been able to coerce a cup of mead from the inn keeper, and smirked as it sat on her desk. Until she had brought it to her lips and grimaced at the taste. “How do people like this?” she whispered and set the goblet aside and returned to her drawings when she heard a tapping at her window. Green-blue eyes were cast towards the window to find a foot tapping it, and with a furrow of her brow, and smudging charcoal across her cheek, she opened it to find a distraught Alexandria. "What in the...." and pried the window open with a grunt. "I...think the door would have been easier..." she called and stepped back to let her jump in.

Mead was offered and refused while Abelie learned about what had happened.

"That stuff is repulsive." Was how Alex started the conversation. "And we're not supposed to know one another, remember? So the less we're seen together until you've gotten the message to Henry, the better."

Abelie nodded, remembering just how important it was that she not only be seen with her, but that her one weapon was that she was Helena Skye’s last adopted daughter. "I found Caspian, but when I tried to give him warning about what was happening all he did was call the effing snake into the conversation. He betrayed my bloody trust right in front of me instead of taking a single damned moment to let me explain the whole story. But no, he wanted to go drink with his effing buddies instead." She listened to her curse up a storm, and simply bit down on her lower lip and waited until Alexandria was ready to speak again. "The only positive is that Charles will be so focused on me that he won't suspect anyone else to be involved...which is why I want you to go to Thorn tomorrow. Kaelyn let me know the clothes are ready, so all you need to do is place this note inside one of the inner pockets and then let Henry know it's there without alerting Charles. You can still back out...Thorn is full of criminals and crazies. It's going to be dangerous."

Abelie understood the only way she could get about was that she was an unknown, and shook her head, "The snake....but you knew Charles was a scaly cretin. Do you think he is the greatest influence to your brother? Because why would your brother not listen to you. You two trust each other, right? Right?” While she thought for a moment, she shook her head again, hugging her legs to her chest, “No, I will do it. I want to. Shall I put the note in Henry's clothing, and make sure Henry knows but not Charles." and smirked, "No one knows me here, and I look nothing like my mother, so it should be easy enough." she began and shook her head, "If this does not happen, how else will you get to Henry, he needs to listen to rhyme and reason."

"There's no guarantee of him listening one way or another, but at least I'll have tried. Then I can walk away without regrets." As for her earlier questions regarding Caspian... "I thought I could trust him, but this isn't the first time he's done this to me. I can't trust him, not anymore. This time he's put my life in danger and he doesn't seem to care a bit." "Just be honest and true, speak like he knows you speak, so he can 'hear' your words. Mayhaps Henry might need to hear true words from someone who is not biased to the crown.” Yet Abelie needed to ask of her godmother, "How are you?" she couldn't understand the logistics of court politics, but what she could understand was, that it was not easy, and everyone was vying for their own selves.

"Worried. Angry. Scared. Hurting. Pissed off. Trying to keep it together when I just want to fall apart?" She rattled off the list with a wave of her hand, as if it made no difference. "Seeing you there...he'll remember you. You did punch him in the face and all. If you happen to mention that you followed your Godmother here, who is visiting a friend, he might put two and two together. Once he sees the jacket that matches the vest I gave him for Yule, he should know who it's all from. And if his father isn't there...you're welcome to say whatever the hell you want. If he is, just get in and get out. I don't want him to hurt you because of me."

"If he continues to be an arse, then I shall treat him to another good one." and raised her hand to reiterate just how ready she was to do such, if need be. “Mind his father, but free to speak if I find him alone." and nodded to herself. "Right, slippery fellow." But the topic shifted back from Charles to Caspian, to Ryan, who she knew so little about.

"My father was a great man, but he didn't always make time for his children and his decisions could be questionable sometimes. Seems my brother is following right in his footsteps, though his greatness has yet to be seen." She murmured with a deep sigh. "I just wish my brother could see Charles for who he really is. But I suppose that won't happen unless Charles murders me." Which was still a huge possibility at this very moment. "I'll leave the note you're to put in Henry's suit coat downstairs under the silver mug on the mantle by the fire. I'll not be here when you leave, so I can ensure Charles's eyes are far from you." With that she stood. She had a note to write. "You should write that letter to Aviva so I can get it to a runner tomorrow. And once your mission is over we can sit down and have that talk about what you were thinking and what's been going on with you since I left. Obviously things haven't gotten any better." Abelie didn’t want to write that letter, yet she understood her older sister would be frantic, not knowing where she was, and nodded slowly, “All right.” and was left for a moment with her thoughts. She was determined to help her godmother, but did not know yet if she was ready to reveal exactly why she had taken off of Hillside to the Stony Hills & Oxbow Lakes, to Barley, and now Snow Mystic. Pressing her lips together, she looked out the closed window and chewed on her lips. She would have to worry about it later, something else was at hand.

#abelie alexandria skye #princess alexandria #snow mystic #motion in motion

9 notes · View notes

efrmellifer · 3 years

Text

Umbra

Seven days of Estinyan: Day Four

There was some measure of guilt in the way Estinien nearly skulked through Ishgard. Mostly, because this was not entirely the city as he usually knew it. This was a sleeping Ishgard, and not one in an early-night doze, as the older heads of houses started to retire, taking off their rings in a sleepy haze.

No, Ishgard was in a heavy sleep, the only souls to prove it was still inhabited the night watch and himself.

So he walked along the stones at a leisurely pace, despite having some purpose in his gait.

He knew where he was going, but he didn’t have to worry about keeping anyone waiting, so he took his time getting there.

After all, his hosts would be fast asleep, cocooned in covers and sleeping off their long days.

He intended to do similarly, when he got in. But probably not without first having something to eat. And a drink.

He stopped on the doorstep, looking around. This was a relatively quiet part of the Pillars anyway, past the airship landing, the Athenaeum Astrologicum, and House Dzemael. Still, so near to the Brume, some sound usually drifted upward. Tonight, it lay still.

Perhaps everyone had enjoyed the breath of warm air from the Shroud a little too much, and were now recovering from their revelry in their beds.

Estinien shrugged. That wasn’t his business.

He felt blindly in his pockets for the key he needed—he did bring the key, didn’t he? He usually had it. It had a special head, engraved with the family crest, and when he’d asked why, years upon years ago, the answer had been “because you are family, Estinien.” Even as the family grew, the key was never taken. He was family. He belonged here.

Where was the Fury-damned key?

Ah, good, there it was. He slipped it into the lock and turned it and the knob in sync, both sounds making the other quieter and less likely to wake the house’s inhabitants.

Then, he stepped inside.

Now, the house was fairly quiet as a rule. The children were very young and patently un-fussy, the lord of the manor was busy with his various positions around Ishgard and as a representative member of the Eorzean Alliance, and the lady of the house had quiet hobbies. So there wasn’t much noise in the house anyway, but now it was very still, as if frozen in time. Frozen, despite the warmth in Ishgard currently.

Estinien made his way past the silent drawing room and toward the kitchens.

He sifted past the tray of bread dough left to rise—made with Etien’s mother’s recipe, if he had to guess—and gathered some dry goods, then delved into the icebox to get some leftovers to layer into a sandwich. That, he managed quietly.

It was the banging of a pot onto the stove that gave him away.

Or, he thought it was going to. But he was left to his rustling around the kitchen in peace, trying to brew himself a cup of coffee.

***

Etien was an unfortunately light sleeper even when she was bone tired, but she was glad this one time that she had woken at the slightest noise.

Someone was in the house, or awake when they shouldn’t be, really.

She slid her hand across the bed, waited for a breath on her wrist, then looked into the cradles. Both twins slept still, chests rising and falling. Betula stirred, but stayed asleep.

Everyone in the room was all right. She rose from the bed to investigate.

Normally, if she were just wandering the house, she would take her blanket with her for warmth, but she wanted to be able to move without the heavy drape of a comforter on her back. So she walked the chilled home in just her nightgown.

It’s just one of the house staff, she tried to tell herself, tripping over something in the kitchen or needing water.

And if it were serious, surely Hydaelyn’s blessing extended as far as Ishgard in the wee hours of the morning?

Still, she lifted one of her bows from where it hung displayed on the wall, taking the accompanying arrow, too. She’d only have one shot, but she wouldn’t need more than that, if she caught whoever this was.

She nocked the arrow and entered the kitchen.

She drew back on her bow, ready to bark that the intruder identify themselves, but she recognized him in the low light burning on the table.

“Estinien,” she hissed.

He looked up from his cold roast beef sandwich, shifting the cup at his hand out of the way. “Good morning?” He looked her over, looking utterly feral, despite being in her nightgown. Her tail was bristling as it flicked, pupils narrowed to slits and hair loose to halo around her head. He thought he’d caught a glimpse of a fang-y snarl before she’d called his name, too, just out of the corner of his eye. “Were you going to shoot me?” he asked.

“No.” Etien let down the bowstring and took the arrow off it. “I thought you were a trespasser.”

“I have a key,” he rebutted, placing it on the table with a metallic clatter.

“And you always have a place here. And your fill of what we have to share.” She gestured at his food and drink. “I heard a clatter, and I panicked. My first thoughts were to make sure everyone was still breathing, you know, after all that with the True Brothers… then to find out what made the noise. I thought you might have been the steward.”

Estinien kicked out the chair opposite his. “Sit, brave Lady.”

She snorted as she came to sitting, folding her arms when she’d gotten her nightgown adjusted over her legs. “All this for coffee?”

“And a sandwich,” he replied, laughing lightly when she rolled her eyes. “Aye. I prefer the dining options here at home, rather than foraging.”

Her eyes lit up, despite the adrenaline leaving her blood leaving her tired again. “Where were you this time?”

“Nowhere that interesting,” he replied with a wave of his hand. “Mayhap in the morning—in the respectable hours of the morning—I can tell you a little more.”

Etien leaned her elbow on the table, then her chin on her hand. “All right.”

She looked so pretty like this, he thought. Not coached into her Warrior of Light persona, not trying to play the role of a noblewoman. Just Etien. Well, he supposed she was also in the position of scared young housewife in the night, but at least she had been surprised to find a lover, not a looter.

Regardless. She was pretty all the time; sometimes pretty like the glint of sharp steel, sometimes pretty like emeralds in firelight. This was a different kind, out of any context and with no trappings. It was just her, in her thick nightgown.

She struggled to keep her eyes open, losing the fight several times and swaying on her chair.

Estinien laid a hand on her arm to keep her from falling, and hummed as her eyes fluttered partway open.

“I think you’ll find your bed is waiting for you.”

“Do you need me to make up the room for you first?” she asked as she got to her feet, words plodding and voice thick with sleep interrupted.

“Just the mattress itself is good enough for me. And a roof over my head.”

“Well, of course it would be, if you were out in the wilderness,” she replied, “but you’re welcome to nice bedding.”

“You need to sleep,” he said, now rising himself. “I can make my own bed. Linens are in the same place, aye?”

“Unless they grew feet,” she answered. “I’ll see you in the morning, then?”

“You are seeing me in the morning.”

She sighed. “Estinien.”

“Etien.”

She scoffed, grabbing his shirt and tugging him down to her level so she could kiss his cheek. “Sleep well. I’ll see you when we’re both properly awake.”

To that, he nodded, giving her a kiss to her cheek. “You will.”

#fic #estinyan #the prompt I gave myself was 'night'

2 notes · View notes

lovelyirony · 4 years

Note

pls 33.) “He said oh my god you’re piecing it together/You are just a shadow of me/oh my lord you’ve never left the mirror/You were never ever free” Mirror Master with Peggy and Sharon parallels and some Steve/Sharon mayhaps? OR 12.) “It’s on pretty lady/born to be angry/grip of the vice/click on the trigger, girl/sip wine on ice” It’s About Time with rivals to lovers Nat/Maria

Sharon loved visiting her Aunt Peggy. From investigating the various nooks and crannies around the house to the “don’t tell your father I told you this story...” tidbits, it was her favorite place. Her house always smelled of tea and linen, and sometimes Aunt Peggy allowed her to try on some red lipstick.

“With red, you’ll be unstoppable,” Peggy says teasingly. “And who knows what will happen when you’re unstoppable...”

Being a kid means you don’t see a lot of the things that go on behind the scenes, so to speak. Sharon doesn’t know why her mother never likes that it’s Peggy who watches her when she can, doesn’t understand why her father doesn’t want Peggy to tell her what her job is.

She doesn’t know why her mom steers her away from any talk of “being just Peggy!”

“You want to do something else,” her mother says worriedly. “Didn’t you want to be a ballerina?”

“Peggy said they can’t work as a ballerina for very long because of repetition,” Sharon says, frowning.

“Then you can be a doctor. Or a lawyer!”

“Lawyers are boring,” Sharon says, rolling her eyes. “Why can’t I be like Aunt Peggy?”

“Because...just don’t ask,” her mother tells her. She’s irritated, voice getting sharp. Sharon knows that her mom is never a fun person when she’s mad. So Sharon doesn’t say anything, not until her mother is lying down for the night and she sneaks out to her dad’s office.

“Mom doesn’t want me to be like Aunt Peggy. Why?” She whispers, crawling into his lap. He smells like printer ink and the woodsy smell of his cologne.

“Peggy...she’s chosen a dangerous career. It gets her in a bit of trouble sometimes. Your mother doesn’t want that for you.”

“She wants me to be a boring lawyer,” Sharon whines. “I don’t wanna be a lawyer.”

“You don’t have to be,” her dad whispers. “You can be what you want. But with Aunt Peggy’s job...there’s more of a chance that you don’t get to see family as often. She’s lucky that she doesn’t have to move to England or Paris again.”

“She lived in England?” Sharon asks, eyes bugging out.

“Yes, for a bit. You know that we were raised there. She wasn’t there to visit anyone. She had to work the whole time.”

“That doesn’t sound like fun,” Sharon says, frowning.

“No, no it isn’t. But I think saving lives as a doctor could be fun, yeah?”

“Maybe.”

Sharon doesn’t stop wanting to be like Aunt Peggy. Peggy is fierce and Peggy is liked by a lot of people and holds influence.

Peggy Carter probably doesn’t sit alone at lunch because girls called her weird and guys say she’s too much like them.

Peggy Carter has loads of friends, like Aunt Angie and Mr. Jarvis.

If Sharon was more like Peggy, then maybe things would be different and her mom would quit asking her if she wants to invite Mackenzie to her birthday party.

Sharon is very similar to Peggy. Scarily so. She has the same intensity to her gaze, the same drive to help others in her own way. She doesn’t suffer fools easily, and Peggy knows that if she’s not careful, Sharon will end up like her.

And that is one thing that she is terrified of. Peggy knows a lot of the things that have led her to survive are either lucky or questionable. She’s done lots of things she’s not proud of. She doesn’t always check in on her kids as much as she should, doesn’t miss the drifting commentary of not being something/somewhere/someone “again.”

Again. What a damning word, to be something/someone/somewhere “again.”

So when Sharon asks her if she can start training--after all, she was already thirteen and needed to get a headstart if she really wanted to be like her aunt--and Peggy looks at her.

“No.”

“What? Why not?” Sharon asks, sipping the rest of her tea. “Is it still too early?”

“My job is not easy,” Peggy says. “It is not a game.”

“You think...what?” Sharon asks.

“You wouldn’t take it seriously,” Peggy says. “This isn’t some adventure of Betty Carver, this isn’t a Captain America adventure. No.”

Sharon blinks back tears. She can’t cry in front of Aunt Peggy, not here. Not now. She wants to prove she’s not some fucking little kid who thinks this is her thinking it’ll be like Betty Carver, the stupid nurse from the old radio show about Captain America.

“I-I’ll go home now,” Sharon says, voice brimming with tears. She can’t hide it. Doesn’t have the training for it, obviously. “See you later.”

Peggy knows it hurts Sharon. She knows it does, knows that she will never look at Sharon like she usually does. But she needs Sharon to be nothing like her.

Because if she’s everything like her...oh god.

Her mother is relieved. There’s a lighter air to her demeanor when Sharon says she’ll just walk home from school anymore.

“I don’t wanna bother Aunt Peggy,” she says lightly. They can’t know what was said. She can barely think of it without tears coming back up. “Do you think I can sign up for anatomy in high school?”

A doctor. That’s what she’ll be. That’s what she tells herself.

But then there comes a night when she’s home alone. Her parents are on a date night, playfully telling her to not do anything dangerous. She knows they mean have anyone over, light the house on fire.

They don’t think she’ll reconsider her career path.

Aunt Peggy doesn’t think she can do it. She thinks that Sharon is just some kid who thinks this whole thing is some stupidly fun mission and she’ll tell stories by the campfire when she’s old.

Sharon’s not stupid. She still may be a kid, but she doesn’t know why the hell anyone thinks kids are stupid.

She can still pretend like she’s gonna be a doctor. She’ll just need to add some necessary lies. Like saying she needs to study foreign languages to a.) make sure she knows her patients, and b.) get scholarships. Saying she needs self-defense because she wants to work in DC.

“To work on politicians, huh?” her dad asks with a grin. “Don’t pull the plug, they’ll throw you in jail.”

“I won’t get caught,” Sharon jokes.

“Don’t,” her mother warns. “You’ll get us all in trouble one day, I swear. What made you decide to focus more on all this, hm?”

“Future’s important,” Sharon says. “Isn’t that what you always say, mom?”

“So you can listen to that but not me telling you to put away your laundry seven times?”

“Mom!”

Her mother chuckles.

“I’m proud of you, honey. Just think, our next doctor! How fun...”

She prattles on about her insanely-boring Uncle Jimmy, who could make paint beg to dry quicker.

Sharon starts studying, and studying hard. She memorizes languages, at least enough to get by. She starts going to the gym and kickboxing. And she remembers that she wants to do this in spite of Aunt Peggy, because she wants to be there to help people.

She remembers Peggy’s stories of Steve, which always varied with Captain America’s. Steve was a sweetheart who liked to draw and had a surprisingly vicious sense of humor.

“You and him would have gotten along like a house on fire,” Peggy would say, chuckling. “Of course, he owed me a dance...I’m not sure if I would have taken him up on that.”

She would gaze fondly over at Uncle Daniel, who smiles in response and kisses her on the forehead and tells her what’s for dinner.

Steve always did stuff for the right reason. Didn’t matter that he was as skinny as a telephone pole, didn’t matter that he could get around New York by categorizing which streets he got beat up on. He kept going. He kept trying to be the best person he could under the circumstances.

That’s what Sharon likes about Steve Rogers. Of course Captain America most likely ended World War II on a much quicker pace and gave hope to millions, but it was Steve who at the end of the day promised a dance and had smiles on his face that were endearingly familiar to her.

When she goes to college, she goes on scholarship and moves into a dorm. Her mother tries to convince her in vain to join a sorority.

“Don’t you want built-in friends?” Her mother asks. “After all, you know that I still talk to Roberta and Missy from mine--”

“And they’re such a delight,” dad mutters, ignoring the dirty look his wife gives him. “Sharon, do what you want. You wanna join a sorority? Fine. You don’t? Cool.”

“They’re beneficial, Sharon. Who knows how many connections you could get for jobs?”

That makes Sharon pause.

She joins a sorority. Not her favorite thing, but some of these girls have mothers and fathers and family members that sway decisions. And if she wants a favor later, she’ll have to see Lindsey puke out three margaritas in a shitty bar to do it.

Class, of course, is difficult. She plays the part well of studying to be a doctor and finding out it just isn’t for her.

“Oh that’s okay,” her father says. “I wanted to be an archaeologist at some point. Can you imagine how ridiculous that would be? I misplace my socks half the time, I don’t know what I’d do with dinosaur bones...”

Sharon giggles. Says she’s thinking about switching to be a communications major.

They okay it, she’s set. She also has more time to train, practice languages, and get a minor in Spanish.

She keeps a lookout for SHIELD. Listens carefully to what her dad says about Aunt Peggy.

He knows something happened. Neither party will tell him, but something is off in the way Sharon makes too sharp a remark and Peggy hasn’t the faintest idea what Sharon’s actually up to.

“I worry about both of them,” Harrison tells his wife.

“People grow apart some times,” Amanda answers sleepily. “And it’s good that Sharon grew out of that phase where she wanted to be Margaret. Of all things...”

He supposes his wife is right. He sets down his newspaper, takes off his reading glasses, and heads to bed.

Meanwhile, Sharon has ditched her sorority’s party night to interview at SHIELD. She’s submitted her applications under Agent Thirteen, waiting for a response. When she gets an email from someone named “Phil Coulson” to meet at seven o’clock for an interview, she dresses in business casual and waits at a cafe for him.

He blinks.

“Does...does Director Carter know you’re here?”

“No, and I would prefer it if she didn’t,” Sharon says. “Especially since she’s retired and SHIELD is no longer under her eyes.”

Coulson clears his throat.

“Of..of course. May I ask why?”

“Family connections are dangerous things to have in this business,” Sharon tells him, taking a swig of coffee. “I would prefer to avoid it.”

She gets a trial run. She’s put in a course with the other new recruits. Calls her parents and says it’s a boot camp for leadership. (She’s not wrong...technically.) She tightens her ponytail and listens as the senior agents tell them all it isn’t a walk in the park.

“This isn’t some ‘save-the-day’ routine that you get to brag about once it’s done,” Agent Coulson says in that infuriatingly even, boring voice he has. “You’ll have nightmares. You will have to lie to everyone you love about everything. And people will leave you and you cannot blame them for it, you cannot tell them the real reason. Are you ready for that? Do you think you can handle that?”

Recruits nod. Sharon says “yes.” Because verbalizing it? That means you have a dedication. Simply nodding never means what it is. It means you cannot dedicate yourself to a problem, but you think you can.

It is that night when she sleeps on an uncomfortable cot that she understands Aunt Peggy a little bit more. She understands why she couldn’t always be there, why her own kids didn’t like visiting, or so mom had said.

(Maybe why she told you to stay away, her brain whispers. But she remembers her throat burning, remembering that her aunt had told her that she couldn’t train someone like her.)

Sharon keeps that thought away. Better not to have personal connections.

Of course, everyone wants to know why she’s Agent Thirteen.

“You like numbers or something?” One girl asks. “Come on, you can tell me. We’re friends, right?”

They are not friends. Lily seems to think they are because she wants Sharon to let her guard down enough so she can beat her time on the obstacle course.

“Nope,” Thirteen says. “Just call me Thirteen like everybody else. You’re not gonna know it.”

“Fine, be that way,” Lily says. “I’m still gonna kick your ass on the obstacle course, Thirteen.”

Sharon grins.

“Do your worst, Lily.”

(Lily’s worst is...well it’s worse than most everyone’s. She’s rejected from the field academy and doesn’t let anyone see her cry. But everyone can hear it over the steady thrum of the shower.)

“So, why the number Thirteen?” Agent Barton asks. He’s different from most recruits. For one, he’s from Iowa. That in itself is...something. Secondly, he was recruited from an honest-to-god circus where he wore purple sequins.

“Thirteen is my favorite number,” she responds, rewrapping her hands for the sparring session. “Why purple sequins?”

“They were out of hot pink,” Clint says, and she laughs. “Come on, I think if we hurry to the cafeteria we can get a meal that is only questionable and not highly questionable.”

Thirteen scores well on tests involving body language. She reads people like a book. Her aim could use work, but it’s proficient enough to impress. She can turn on the charm, turn on the lies like she’s meant to do it.

(And she’s spent so long lying to everyone around her, is it any wonder?)

When she gets officially inducted, Fury asks her if her aunt knows.

“No, and I would rather she didn’t,” Sharon said tersely.

She understands Peggy now. She understands her in the way that agents are lost and people get frustrated and drop the training because they have a spouse that they love more than life itself. God knows how Peggy balanced it.

She thinks that maybe Aunt Peggy was scared that Sharon would disappear and never return, become like so many others on the wall of remembrance.

Sharon touches Steve’s placard every time she passes it. It’s more tarnished than others, the first one on the wall. Her fingers trace the “S” and the “R” every time, and she smiles as she remembers the stories of him.

People see similarities. The higher-ups don’t spill any secrets to the lower agents, they can’t. But they know that she’s related to Peggy in the way her voice becomes clipped when she’s frustrated, in the ways her eyes flash in rage.

She’s too similar, she knows that.

The comparisons won’t stop. Because she knows she’s too similar. Dear god, sometimes she’s worried that she’ll look into a mirror and see her.

The older agents, the ones that have been in the field and now deal with all the boring paperwork and paper trails whisper to her that Peggy made a lot of the same decisions as she did, stayed behind to make sure the job was done.

“You’re just like her,” Agent Veering says, his spectacles slipping down his nose. “She would be proud of you, you know.”

No, no she wouldn’t. To have someone turn out exactly like you?

Well...you know your shortcomings. You know your failures. You know how you will die, nearly. And someone having that same pattern?

God, Peggy would die.

So she pushes that out of her mind. She focuses on the mission at hand and reads the various notecards on the fridge about “please don’t touch this meal or you will die.”

She’s one of their best. Of course she is, people say. Fury is reminded of Peggy’s legacy, of how Sharon acts. She puts herself out there first, luring people away with expectations. It’s...eerily similar.

Sharon gets a call from her parents. They think she has an office job dealing with communications in security fields. (Technically not a lie. Also not a complete truth.)

“You need to come visit Peggy,” dad says quietly. “Please.”

“What happened?”

“She’s been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s.”

It’s a terrible thing. Because it can’t get better, it will only get worse until you have someone who doesn’t know a damn thing.

Peggy doesn’t like all the fuss.

“Don’t worry about me darling,” she tells Harrison. “I’m fine. Just a bit forgetful. I’ll be out of hospital in a week, tops. I’ll be back to work!”

She thinks she’s going back to work a lot.

They actually have to keep her in a special home, one monitored by SHIELD agents. She keeps revealing secrets, ones that people absolutely cannot know.

But on good days, Sharon visits. And on bad days.

“I cannot believe you joined SHIELD,” Peggy says sharply. “It’s exactly what I didn’t want you to do.”

“Should’ve told me to go for it and then told me about the recruit training,” Sharon says. “Would’ve turned me off completely.”

Peggy laughs. She holds Sharon hands.

“Promise me you’ll be careful. Don’t...don’t be like me.”

And it means more now. It’s unavoidable, what Peggy has. And yet there’s always the “what if.”

“Okay,” Sharon says, knowing she is lying. “Okay.”

Sharon cries in her car. For longer than ten minutes. Which is fine, she knows that.

But she gets a call from Hill.

“Thirteen?”

“What?”

“Okay over there?” Maria asks. Sharon can feel the eyebrow raise from here.

“Personal issues. I’ll be okay. What is it?”

“You’re gonna want to get here as quick as possible. I’m talking a hundred miles an hour.”

“What, did Fury finally wear white?”

“No, way better than that.”

They fucking found him. They found Steve Rogers. He’s in a block of ice and he’s alive.

Sharon’s horrified. Everyone else seems to be losing it, smiling and grinning because Cap is back.

They don’t know how badly he’s going to be out of time.

She goes straight to Fury.

“You can’t push him immediately,” she says. “You can’t.”

“And what, you know Cap better than us?” Fury asks.

“I know Steve better than you,” Sharon says, leveling with him. “And this is gonna suck and he’s going to need to learn how to be himself before Captain America is even an option. Trust me. Trust the psychologists who are gonna tell you the exact same thing.”

Fury looks at her for a moment.

“Tell me the difference.”

“Steve is going to run out of that room because you messed up,” Sharon says, gesturing to the woman they’re having going in. “You got the fashion wrong, you got the hair wrong. In the army, her hair would’ve been up and away. You’re also playing a baseball game that he was at. He knows that he won’t be.”

“We’re not sure the state of his memory.”

“He memorized strategies and sites of attack in one glance and could recall even the smallest detail about a stranger, he’ll remember,” Sharon argues.

Steve Rogers runs.

Sharon curses. She fucking knew they’d pull this, knew that SHIELD wanted Captain America back so badly they’d forget that he’s still just a guy.

He stares at Times Square with all of its people, all of the lights, and he looks lost.

“I...I had a dance.”

Fury ushers him back inside. Sharon says nothing.

This does not explain why Steve Rogers gets moved in right next to her apartment.

“What the fuck,” Sharon seethes into her phone. “When I told you to get him help, I didn’t mean me!”

“You’re the one who has the closest connection to him. Seeing your aunt is gonna depress the living shit out of him,” Clint says.

(Yes, she told Clint. In her defense she was wine-drunk, had eaten the best burger to that point in her life, and Clint had made her laugh for ten minutes straight.)

“Is he seeing a therapist?”

“As soon as he agrees to one.”

Sharon knocks her head against the wall. And then goes over to see Steve looking forlornly at the space.

“What’s up?” she asks.

Steve turns, blinking at her.

“Who are you?”

“Sharon. Carter.”

“You’re...?”

“Related? Yes. But that’s not important right now. You need help unpacking your kitchen stuff.”

“I’m fine.”

“I don’t think you realize how bad new agents are at packing things,” Sharon says. “I’m helping.”

Steve is truly and really lost. It reminds him of when he went through the city for the first time by himself and got lost around a streetcar and he couldn’t find his way back until Bucky had happened to walk by with a cute girl on his arm.

He should really tell Bucky about all of this, he just needs to find--

Stamps. For a man who’s MIA. Or KIA. Most likely the latter.

Then he can’t breathe. And he sits on a chair that’s too modern and he stares at a carpet that looks weird, and Sharon is by him.

“Hey,” she says. “Breathe. You’re here in your apartment. I put away dishes. I’m making you get new coffee mugs because the ones you have are disgusting.”

“Where the fuck do I get those?” Steve asks. “Woolworth’s? Do they even have those?”

“Missed it by a decade or eight,” Sharon says. “No, there are other stores. Better designs, too. Or we can go and paint custom mugs. Ever wanted to see what it looks like to paint ‘fuck you’ on a mug?”

Sharon is pretty sure she’s fucking everything up.

But Steve laughs.

“You can....you can do that?”

“Of course you can,” Sharon says. “Let me show you some stuff...”

Steve is taught the worst and best of American pop culture. He hates rock music for now.

“I’m down the hall, the first room on your left,” Sharon says. “Don’t hesitate to knock for anything. I know you will need things, do not tell me you are fine. You’re not a good actor yet.”

He breaks a wall. A fucking wall. It’s the one leading into her room, and luckily her bed wasn’t against it. He’s covered in dust and wood and plaster, and he speaks a litany of apologies.

Sharon can’t help it.

She laughs.

“Only you would make sure we had a shared apartment,” she says.

“I can fix it I know it isn’t proper--”

“I don’t care about proper,” Sharon says. “At least now I can keep a closer eye on you. We’ll have SHIELD do some renovation work while I show you potentially the worst or best places you will ever go.”

Steve gets a tour of DC. He remembers when there were stories and pictures of President Woodrow Wilson’s sheep “mowing” the lawn. He’s surprised at all the security measures, and is not happy that there is more security on public transit.

“We can still break in if you want,” Sharon says. “But I’ll get you a pass.”

“It’s the future and it sucks,” Steve mutters.

Sharon laughs out loud at that.

“Well I’ll show you something that doesn’t suck, and that is a restaurant that I only take few people to, such as Agent Barton. You’ll meet him later, he’s a real disaster.”

Steve loves the burger place and all of its seedy decorations and kitschy photos of old celebrities visiting.

Sharon takes him grocery shopping. He’s overwhelmed.

“How are there more than one type of orange? How can you afford them?”

“We get good pay from SHIELD,” Sharon answers. “Tell me, have you ever had a strawberry margarita?”

“What?”

“Adding to cart,” Sharon answers. “You’re about to enjoy alcohol, finally.”

“Peggy tell you I hate it?”

“Just figured you would,” Sharon says. “She said the only time she saw you drink was when Bucky disappeared.”

It’s sad after that. Steve’s shoulders hunch in on themselves.

“You ever lost someone?” Steve asks.

“I am,” Sharon says quietly. “Do you want to make a pie?”

“What?”

“I’m going with no,” Sharon answers back. “We’ll make good brownies then.”

Steve’s frame is hilariously slim when you wrap an apron around it. Sharon can’t see she doesn’t admire it.

“This is amazing,” Steve says.

“Quit licking the batter,” Sharon says. “We have to eat these, you heathen.”

“Oh, like you’ll die from it,” Steve answers back sarcastically. “I was frozen for seventy years, I wanna lick batter.”

Sharon nods.

He doesn’t want to see a therapist. Insists he’s fine.

Sharon gestures to the wall that is now tastefully decorated with curtains.

“...fine. But if I don’t like it I’m leaving.”

“Would never force you to stay,” Sharon says. “Keep in mind one therapist is not your end-all solution. Sometimes you need to look around.”

“Do you...?”

“Yup,” Sharon says. “Can’t be as sexy as I am without a few issues that need working on.”

Eventually, Steve finds one.

He shows Sharon his world. He shows her records that he keeps buying off online sites, the player that he swears he can fix up.

“We could probably get you a functional gramophone if you wanted,” Sharon says. “Like yeah it’ll be expensive but we can do it.”

“I want one that’s well-loved,” Steve says. “One with character.”

Not for the first time does Sharon smile.

They sit together at dinner sometimes, and Steve tells her about what Brooklyn used to be, and she tells him stories of how she would climb trees until she couldn’t go any higher, and she used to memorize all of the cassettes and CDs that her parents had. She could still sing along to ABBA with no prompt.

She makes Steve watch Mamma Mia! after that, laughing as he stares wide-eyed.

“This is incredible.”

Steve looks at Sharon like she’s his world. And in some respects, she is. But he can’t get over how different she is from Peggy. And that’s the damning evidence, isn’t it? That she’s a connection, but she’s...she’s not.

She doesn’t wear red lipstick, doesn’t own any. Told him one day that she looked stupid in it. “I’m unstoppable without it, I don’t need it,” she says, and it feels like there’s something more there.

How she reacts in some ways like Peggy would, but how communicative she is with others. How she laughs and makes sure people are comfortable in the situation. Not that Peggy wasn’t any of that, but she was focused on getting to the end, to proving that it was a success. Sharon wanted the same thing, but what mattered was that people were okay.

He doesn’t stay with Sharon all the time. She encourages him to get out “into the big, bad, scary world.”

She meant interacting with college art students, which is quite scary. He agrees. He thinks it’s very cool that you can dye your hair now, and buys the shittiest dye ever.

He dyes his hair blue and accidentally smears some down his neck. He shivers as Sharon traces her hand down, laughing.

“Oh my god. Steve, what did you do?”

“Marcy in my class has pink hair, I wanted to dye my hair!” Steve says defensively. “You left me bored.”

Sharon smiles up at him.

(What would it be like to wrap his arms around her? To hold her and let the universe pass them by?)

He shakes his head out of the thought.

“Ooh, showing off the hair?” Sharon asks, grinning.

“Of course.”

“Nerd,” she teases. “Well come on, I got some ice cream from the store. Your favorite which is disgustingly basic, but here we are.”

“It’s basic for a reason, it’s good,” Steve teases right back. “Need to ask you about my new art project.”

“Shoot.”

“I need to draw someone. And you’re basically the only person I really, um, want to draw.”

“What, afraid that you can’t capture Coulson’s strong personality on paper?” Sharon asks wryly. Steve snorts.

“Oh yeah, his vivacity would fly off the page. Really and honestly, truly.”

“Well, what do I need to do?”

“It has to be a stylized portrait from any historical era,” Steve answers. “And I already have the materials and stuff, we just need to go shopping for some clothing and stuff. Maybe accessories.”

“Okay.”

Sharon thinks her heart is absolutely stupid for beating this fast. It’s been doing this more recently.

Natasha keeps making fun of her.

Steve wants to do a Baroque style, over-the-top goddess style. He has her dripping in drapery and gold chains, thin as can be. He delicately sets a crown that he weaved into her hair.

“You look gorgeous,” he says, blinking. “Just...wow.”

“All thanks to the cute artist,” Sharon flirts back, winking. “Tell me how you want me.”

Silence after that.

But Steve positions her reclining, and she can’t stop herself from raising an eyebrow at him.

“I feel ridiculous, just so you know.”

“You look great, if that’s any connotation.”

“It could be.”

She smiles at him, and that’s the winning expression. “Hold please.”

Sharon tries her best, stilling. Benefit of SHIELD training. She can stay still for hours. Her smile, however, moves.

This is fine. Steve smiles back.

“Break time,” he announces a couple of hours later. Sharon sags on the couch, swinging her legs over.

She overestimates her abilities and the fabric, as one foot gets caught and she falls forward.

Steve’s catching her in a flash. She grins.

“Being my hero, huh?”

“Of course,” Steve says. “Where would I be if I didn’t save the pretty lady?”

Sharon smiles, leans closer.

“Can I...I wanna kiss you.”

Steve blinks. Goes for it.

Sharon smiles into it.

Months later, when everything’s going to shit and Natasha asks if that’s the first kiss he’s had since 1945, he smiles to himself.

“No, it’s not,” he tells her. “You knew that, didn’t you?”

Natasha smiles to herself.

“Sharon’s not gonna be mad at me, is she?”

“Of course not,” Steve says. “Especially after I tell her I convinced you to wear these terrible shoes.”

“Hey!”

When he wakes up at the hospital, Sharon’s standing at the side and Sam’s sitting down.

“On your left,” Steve pants out.

“You--” Sam hangs his head, laughing. “You got me on that one. Got your shield. We don’t know where Barnes is. Your girl is here, by the way. Gotta say, you got lucky.”

“Damn right I did,” Steve says weakly. Sharon waves. Steve tries to wave.

“You got thrown from a Helicarrier, don’t,” Sharon says. She sends Sam off with a goodbye hug and a promise to deliver some dessert as a thank-you.

She looks at Steve.

“You have so much explaining to do. So much. But later.” She takes his hand, kissing it softly. “I was terrified.”

“So was I.”

They sit like that for a moment. Steve turns, seeing the bandage around her arm.

“What’s that?”

“Rumlow’s a bastard with a knife, played dirty,” Sharon says. “It’s nothing. He got crushed under a building. Karma, you know. Whole thing.”

Steve laughs. Winces. Sharon puts her hand over his.

“Get some rest,” she says. “I’ll be back tomorrow to visit and evaluate if you can go home or not.”

“I’ll be fine.”

Sharon rolls her eyes.

“Of course you are.”

She presses a kiss to his forehead.

“I love you, honey. Stay safe.”

“You too.” He squeezes her hand.

Things will be okay.

#HOLY FUCKING SHIT. HOLY FUCKING SHIT THIS IS SO FUCKIGN LONG. WHAT THE FUCK DID I DO #peggy carter #sharon carter #steve rogers #clint barton #yes clint is her bff yes i do what i want #of course i do what would you have expected #lovelyirony writes #any single time jess (not me) requests a prompt from me i just HAVE to go feral #staron

70 notes · View notes

twins-parted · 4 years

Text

Kiss, Kiss ( Heather Meme ) || Accepting !!!

@allbravado Said: “ 💋⁉️ for all our ships mayhaps 👀 or whichever one(s) ur feeling The Most Rn. “

* ( I’ll do 1 for each, so expect 3 notifications. ) *

Ship: Seth & Rosario

His left hand tapped a small beat against her knee as they both sat piled in Seth’s computer chair. The worn black leather was broken in perfectly from all the nights he’d stayed up researching, or watching youtube, or just thinking.

Currently, he sat in it cross - legged with Rosie nestled into the dip in his lap. She had propped herself up on her elbows, face trained on the screen as he tried to explain the new editing software he’d saved up for.

“ Right, well - - - I’m not the best with it just yet. It doesn’t give you a very good tutorial & the controls are super sensitive, so you have to calculate everything perfectly before you try clipping anything in, or cutting out parts you don’t need ... ya know, stuff like that. It’s a pretty steep learning curve ... a real work in progress “

He allowed her to take the mouse & play around with the presets and sample visuals and audio. He dipped his head & leaned it against her shoulder to hide the smile breaking over his stern face.

Seth Trimble, was not a soft hearted boy by any stretch of the imagination, actually - most people used words such as: Callous, Calculated, Weird, Creepy, & Intense to describe him. But, in the several months since he and Rosie had begun dating - he found hidden pieces in his personality that were more malleable than others & he found she could easily mold them into something like soft-heartedness.

That was enough for them both.

She was pretty, a fact that sometimes took him off guard after extended absences from her side. She was especially beautiful to him at times like this: when she was focused so intently on a task at hand. The quirk of her brow, the ever-so-slight narrowing of her eyes as they tracked the cursor on the screen, even down to the determined set of her mouth in times like this always overwhelmed him, washing him away in a pleasant storm of blissful pride.

The goofy grin faded and he shook his head:

“ Speaking of ‘ Works in Progress ‘, I took it upon myself to make something I thought you’d like. It’s fine if you don’t though - I just wanted to try something ... “

Special. Tailor made to meet your tastes & expectations ...

“ Different from the stuff I usually get paid to edit together. A neat side project to help get the controls a little more solidified in my memory. “

He clicks through a series of windows and prompts before pulling open a file marked ‘ Tax1timelapse ‘ and lets it play.

“ It’s not the best timelapse, but I synced a bunch of the videos you sent me of your last project, made a nice piano cover of some pop song Jonah recommended & even had the little weirdo draw up a cartoon version of what’s happening to the creature in the video. I can’t quite remember what it is - I finished this video 2 weeks ago and haven’t touched it since. “

Watching her face light up as she watched her own creative process in action come to fruition was a small reward in itself. She leaned back again his shoulder, head turned to face him. He knows she’s about to say something, but he can’t resist the urge to cut her off before she can start with a long kiss.

( He forgoes his usual aggressiveness in favor of something soft and delicate - his pale trembling lips ghosting over hers before he commits fully to the act. His stomach flips pleasingly and Seth emits a small grunt of completion as he draws away teasingly - only to lean back in for another quick kiss. His arms tighten around her body, pulling her closer to him than he was usually comfortable allowing. )

It lasts the span of maybe 23 seconds, but it’s enough to make him draw back a little dizzy and breathless. His blue eyes flick between the screen and her face, as he distractedly chews on his bottom lip.

He shakes his head again and shrugs, trying to regain control of his usual arrogant demeanor

“ Anyway, I have it downloaded on a USB Drive if you want it. You should have your own youtube channel or something. “

He turns back to watch the computer screen, pretending to reset the controls.

Not bad, Seffie.

Not bad.

#( I think I have lost my touch as the written PDA queen. )#( This is a devastating blow to my ego. )#• I Have A Couple Points Written Already ... • ( Drabbles. )#• The New and Improved Grim Adventures of Billy & Mandy • ( Seth & Rosie. )

4 notes · View notes

bobafettsslut · 5 years

Text

prompt for @gayeld

arya’s ship is wrecked in shipbreaker bay and now she has to wait out the storm in storm’s end wink wonk

“Lord Baratheon?” Gendry looks up at his name.

“A woman was sailing last night, and her ship crashed near the dock, My Lord.”

Gendry furrows his eyebrows and stands. It had stormed all of last night and it continued to storm now. Who in their right mind would have been on a boat last night? “She said that you would know her and asked if she could come in, but I wanted your permission first.” Gendry can hear his heart pounding in his ears. He had to remind himself that she sailed West. She wouldn’t have been near Shipbreaker Bay. “She said her name is Arry, My L-” Gendry stands from his desk and urges the young man to take him to the woman. He has to stop himself from running to the dock.

He walks out into the thunderstorm and finds Arya climbing the hill with a few more staff. She’s drenched from the storm and shivers with each step. He’s away from the prying eyes of almost everyone except for a few people, so he runs out to her to pull his cloak up and cover her head for the rest of the walk. Arya rolls her eyes at the gesture, probably wanting to remain independent on her walk up, but she grabs the end of his cloak to pull around her shoulders when her teeth chatter again.

They make it inside the castle and Gendry turns to face Arya. He rubs his hands up and down her arms, attempting the warm them. “What were you doing in the storm, stupid?” He mutters.

Arya shrugs. “I didn’t know it was going to storm.” Gendry shakes his head at her. He clasps her face between his hands and checks her head and neck for any new wounds. She was scarred from the wars, but she didn’t have any fresh injuries on her face. Arya doesn’t push him away, and she stands still for him, waiting for him to finish determining that she’s okay. She brings her hands up to clasp his wrists and Gendry leans forward.

Arya.

She was alive. She was here.

He hears someone clear their throat behind them, and Gendry quickly releases Arya’s face, taking a step back. He turns to the sound, and all of the staff who had stopped to gawk at their Lord quickly turned away and went back to their work. Ser Davos stares at Gendry before he bows to Arya.

“Lady Stark,” he says.

“Ser Davos,” Arya responds with a similar bow.

“Mayhaps Lord Baratheon would be kind enough to have a bath drawn for you and for you to be given dry clothes,” he says, narrowing his eyes at Gendry, but smiling anyway. Gendry stands still for a moment, processing, before he abruptly nods.

“Yes, yes, of course- I- please excuse me,” he says and Arya covers a laugh with her hand. “I’ll ask Jenny to draw you a bath,” he promises. “You can stay until your ship is fixed. There’s plenty of rooms,” he says. Arya nods at him and he rushes off to find Jenny.

Unfortunately for Arya, Southern ladies wore breeches even less than Northern ladies. She was able to borrow a dress from one of the maids who was her size, but that was the only thing that could be offered to her while her clothes were washed. Gendry assumed that she had brought other clothes with her, but they had no doubt been soaked in the storm and needed to dry before she could wear them again. Gendry stands from his chair when she steps into the room.

“You look-“

“If you say I look nice, I’ll rip your throat out with my teeth,” she hisses. Gendry was glad to know that her journey hadn’t changed her too much. Ser Davos chuckles from beside Gendry.

“You look dry,” he says. Arya lets out a puff of laughter through her nose.

“Do you have any wine?” She asks. Davos sets the wineskin by the empty seat in front of Arya. She sits down and bites into a bit of bread before she pours a cup of wine. “Will Lady Baratheon be joining us?” She asks, and Gendry tries not to splutter at her question.

She raises her eyebrows expectantly and Gendry shakes his head. “There isn’t a Lady Baratheon.” Arya covers her smile by taking a sip of wine.

“So, there’s no one else?”

“Well, if you’ll both excuse me, I have some ravens to send...” Davos cuts in as he picks up his plate and stands. Gendry opens his mouth to protest, but Davos sets a hand on his shoulder. “It’s important that I leave and send them right now,” he insists and steps out of the room. Gendry swallows thickly, not sure if he’s ready to be left alone with Arya.

“There haven’t been any potential ladies?” Gendry chuckles nervously and Arya studies him.

He shakes his head. “Ser Davos wants me to marry,” he says.

“But you... don’t?”

“No, Arya, I don’t. I asked you if you would marry me, and you said that you wouldn’t. Forgive me for not looking for another bride right away,” he mutters. She had to know that that would have been a sensitive topic for him, considering the only woman he had loved enough to ask to be his wife sat in front of him, sipping wine while demanding details about his romantic life.

Arya sits in silence with him for a while, slowly chewing bits of her food. She refills her cup of wine. “You seem like you’ve done a good job. With being a lord, I mean."

"Ser Davos helps me. I only get the chance to smith a few times in a moon because I spend all my time reading and writing and working." Davos kept reminding him that if he had a wife, he would have less work to do by himself and more time to smith. That was the point that Gendry usually excused himself from the conversations.

"Have you met the commonfolk?" She asks.

"I visit the towns as often as I can. I bring bread for their children." Arya nods.

“My father always said that a good Lord brought a different man to his table every night to listen to him and try to help him.”

Gendry gives Arya a soft smile. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you,” he says.

“You’re welcome.”

“I’m glad that you’re here,” Gendry starts, “but I’m just trying to understand why you decided it was smart to sail through a place named “Shipbreaker Bay,’” he teases.

Arya rolls her eyes at him and stands. “It was a faster route,” she says with a shrug. Gendry wants to ask what it was a faster route to, because the Stormlands were East, but Arya has already left him.

Gendry wakes up in the dead of the night to his door creaking open. He hears it latch and he sits up in bed, rubbing his sleep ridden eyes. He watches as Arya pulls her shift over her head in the dim firelight. She drops it to the floor and silently treads to Gendry. Her hands fumble with the furs around him, but she pushes them aside to climb into his lap. Arya reaches for his shoulders and he waits. He wouldn’t kiss her without knowing she wanted him to. She moves her hands up his neck and to his cheeks.

“I’ve missed you,” she whispers. “Gods, I’ve missed you,” she repeats and traces the pad of her thumb over his lips. She looks at his mouth and back to his eyes.

“I’ve missed you, too,” he says. Arya lets out a strangled sound, like a laugh and cry, and she smiles. She surges forward to kiss him. He rests his hands on her hips as she tugs her fingers through his hair. Arya leans down on her side and pulls on his shoulders. He twists to lay her on her back and she grins up at him when he moves between her thighs. She missed him, he thinks as he smiles into their kiss.

Gendry trails his hand down her back and smiles at her. She rolls her eyes, but Gendry knows she can’t be annoyed with him when she’s laying like this. She was resting against his side, with her chin on his chest and her leg hooked in between his. She was light, but his body was still starting to get sore from her laying on him. He wouldn’t dare ask her to move a bit, though. He was happy. So happy.

He pushes her hair behind her ear with his other hand. She rests her cheek in his palm.

"Stay," Gendry whispers.

"Where else would I go, stupid? I don't have a ship," she says.

"No, stupid. I mean even after your ship is fixed... stay."

Arya lets out a slow breath. "I haven’t gone west yet.”

“You’ve been gone for over a year. What were you doing?”

“I sailed around Westeros. Queen Yara of the Iron Islands welcomed me and she gifted me with a better ship. (edit: i wrote this before the finale when arya threatened yara and got her banging stark ship so just pretend like they’re pals bc its a relationship we deserve) I had never been in the Westerlands before and I wanted to see the grand Casterly Rock for myself, so I went. I stopped in Dorne for a while, and I swam in the famed pools,” she murmurs. She traces circles on his chest with her fingers.

“Why’d you start sailing North?” Gendry asks.

Arya bites her lip. She moves her face away from his hand and starts to pull away from him, but Gendry keeps his other hand in the middle of her back to prevent her from leaving his side.

“It was easier,” she whispers. “I thought my family was dead the first time I left Westeros, but now I think of them all the time. Sansa and Jon and Bran. They’re all alive,” she says.

“You don’t want to leave them.”

Arya shakes her head. She presses her cheek against his heart. “I tried to, but I couldn’t make myself. I miss them.”

“Then don’t leave them. Go North,” he prods.

“And leave you?” She says, giving him a small smirk.

“I think I’ll survive as long as you plan to return.”

“Then I plan to return,” she promises.

“Good.” Gendry tilts her head up and leans forward. “But your ship won’t be fixed before the storm is over, and the storms down here can sometimes last days. I’m afraid you can’t leave just yet,” he whispers.

Arya grins. “Whatever will we do until then?”

“I can think of a few things,” Gendry teases and strokes her jaw. Arya laughs and kisses him.

#gendrya #arya stark #gendry baratheon #stormlands #gendrya au #filled prompt #gendry x arya #heck yeah thanks for this request i loved it

404 notes · View notes

roarkstaunton · 5 years

Text

Before the Qalyana.

Roark traveled to Grymm & Enid in the Peaks, where he chanced upon a pensive Drusteryn.

Drusteryn Hellson: "You're here tha's nice." He'd flash Roark a smile, at least now he didn't seem as tense as the day before.

Roark Staunton nodded. "This is a good spot for bathing." His eyes drifted to the little camp, "And getting a bit of information. I'm surprised to see that you've arrived this early. I didn't expect you for another day."

Drusteryn Hellson breathed out something that vaguely sounded like a laugh. "Bathing." He'd repeat recalling the events with the merchant. "I wanted to enjoy the scenery though. An' talk to you, Roark."

Roark Staunton seemed genuinely pleased at the mention of enjoying scenery, and so stood at Drust's side. "Of course. What about?"

Drusteryn Hellson blinked slowly and smiled just a bit wider as Roark joined him. "I know you do screwed up shit, Roark. Tha' sometimes when you do your work, innocents get hurt. Jus' want you to know tha's the only thing I take issue with. Bu' it won't stop me from working with you."

Roark Staunton took a deep breath, and looked out over the water. "I take no pleasure in it," He admitted, "And despite what some of the main faction may tell you, the Crimson Claw does its best to avoid it. But there are times when we cannot allow ourselves to falter for the greater good -- for Gyr Abania's greater good. The Alliance is very happy to celebrate what they did for Ala Mhigo, but forget to mention that it took the blood of innocents for it to even be possible. Trying to win a war with clean hands is a path to defeat. They are just lucky enough to have had someone else to do the dirty work for them. I...do not condone what the Griffin did. But it worked."

Roark Staunton: "And if I, like he, must be a hated, depaved wretch in order for my people to live truly free, then so be it. I'm willing to give my life. My reputation is nothing in comparison."

Drusteryn Hellson listened to Roark, his smile well into a simper. He looked up to the mountains and the crumbling form of Specula Imperatoris. "I know," his voice went soft, "We can't win against Garlemald if we aren't as cruel as them." His words were thick with grief. "If only it could be all different, but it's not. Garlemald has shown it's willingness to kill their own to get to us exceptionally well."

Drusteryn Hellson: "The hilarious part being...their conscripts were mostly ours anyway. So of course, they didn't care."

Roark Staunton 's eyes swept up to Specula Imperatoris in the distance. "Would that they had gunned down those remaining two eyesores. Very little angers me more than the permanent scars they've left on the land. There's no pride to be had from those. Only pain."

Drusteryn Hellson sucked in his breath. "Indeed," he'd breathe out in a sigh, "But you have my oath. In blood even. Unless you wish to draw more. I'll not falter now. Not now that I've heard what you had to say." He'd look to Roark then.

Roark Staunton: "The time for oaths and assurances is gone now. I'll see your commitment through steel. The Alliance and the main faction..." He grimaced as if he wished to spit, "...well I suppose they're one and the same now...they dance around the threat of the Qalyana. But we won't. We will cull them, and appropriate their resources to aid in our fight. That should send a message to the rest. Who knows, if they become frightened enough to summon their goddess again the bloody Alliance will take them more seriously."

Drusteryn Hellson eyes stayed on Roark and nodded. "Perhaps. It's a ticking timebomb. And in the end...Gyr Abania herself will suffer if there are too many summonings." His gaze then melted into one of fondness. Even if that melancholy still lingered. "Perhaps now I can finally make up for everything I did with the Corpse Brigade with you."

Roark Staunton: "I believe that you can -- though perhaps not in the way you expect. Wretched as they are, they have something I need. Something that I have been wondering if you possess."

Drusteryn Hellson seemed to become smaller at Roark's last words. His shoulders pulling forward, knees sinking slightly. "An' what would that be?"

Roark Staunton: "The secrets of monk killing."

Drusteryn Hellson: "You stick it in 'em?" He smiled weakly as he joked. But then....he nodded.

Roark Staunton looked out over the water again. "I trusted them, for a time. Their re-emergence encouraged and inspired me." A pause, "...and then I attended one of their ceremonial pilgrimages. It was...mm. Disappointing is not a strong enough word. It was sacrilegious in the worst way. Their ranks are plump with pretenders and fools. The order has been twisted and perverted. I am sure there are still those who follow the righteous path, but those are the ones I will spare." He glanced aside at Drust.

Roark Staunton: "The ranks of the new generation must be purged. Mayhap it is time for the order to truly end. Glorious as it was, perhaps their era has truly passed."

Drusteryn Hellson gazed at Roark, his brows pulling up. How it made him so sad! Like a kicked puppy. For a while he didn't know what to say. He looked away. "Such things will right themselves," he eventually forced out, "The way the world is now. To simply cull the inadequate and weak, would cause us unimaginable trouble." He'd sigh looking forward to the pool. "You know the righteous ones will want to stop you. So it doesn't matter if you spare them either." He released another breath, finally saying what he truly wanted to, "I do not want to kill them."

Roark Staunton stared for a good, long while, then exhaled. "Is that so? I see. I'll respect that, and trouble you on the topic no longer."

Drusteryn Hellson looked over to Roark then and smiled weakly. "You are kind. But if you truly wish to know how to kill a monk...I'm sure you can find out. You've met people who can."

Roark Staunton: "It won't elude me for long, I suspect. For now, it's back to the planning board -- and even then, I'll need to set that aside for the upcoming operation."

Drusteryn Hellson nodded to Roark. "Please...don't get yourself killed."

Roark Staunton: "Hm? That's an odd thing to say. I certainly will try my best in that regard."

Drusteryn Hellson: "Is it?" His brows pulled up. "I care about you. And...you're like a brother." He huffed as he did his N I C E S A VE.

Roark Staunton smiled then, though it was miniscule. "We are brothers, and we will save our nation together."

Drusteryn Hellson did the save. Whew. He returned the smile - practically grinning in comparison. "Tha' makes me happy to hear. I won't cause you any trouble, I promise."

Roark Staunton was extremely confident when he noted, "I know you won't. Still -- what will you do until we move out? Did you bring that trembling woman of yours to see Gyr Abania?"

Drusteryn Hellson let out a huff. His face flushing. "Do you of course. But, no. Rose is staying in Ul'dah. She is...delicate." He smiled weakly at Roark, "I would much rather make a whole trip of it, but she has been here before I believe. She was adopted into an Ala Mhigan family."

Roark Staunton: "No better kind of family to be adopted into," Roark noted with conviction. "So be it, then. Prepare as you must -- I came to have a word with them," He tipped his chin at the men at the camp, "And then be on my way."

Drusteryn Hellson flashed a smile at Roark, then looked to the camp. "Would you like company?"

Roark Staunton was very firm in his answer. "No. I'll be out of your hair now."

Drusteryn Hellson nodded almost meekly at Roark. His face flushed again. "Alright. Do take care, Roark."

Roark Staunton offered another one of his little smiles, then moved forward to the camp. The men there did not seem at all pleased to see him.

#balmung #FFXIV #Roleplay #Drusteryn Hellson #Roark Staunton #Gyr Abania #Ala Mhigo #Crimson Claw

6 notes · View notes

zeroconnectionn · 5 years

Text

alternate music video for Sucker by Jonas Brothers feat. jaime and brienne in fancy clothes chase-dancing each other through a museum. I’m keeping it under the cut because it’s super long (it’s just text... in bullet points again bc i can’t write unless it looks like lists... mayhaps there is a drawing at the end...)

so pretend this is one of those music videos with an obnoxiously long introductory scene where the music starts late in the video. We see doors being pushed open and Brienne storming out of it with tears in her eyes, Jaime following closely behind her, calling out to her.

When he catches up, he starts apologizing for something that happened inside (he’s not at fault). Maybe they bumped into nasty Lannister relatives at the function or maybe the press was annoying them with questions about their relationship, either way it soured her mood and she just wants to go home.

(btw Jaime’s looking sharp in a fancy suit and Brienne is in a tailored dress that fits her perfectly because obvs Jaime got the measurements right!)

We see them walking briskly down the street, Brienne assuring him she’s fine (she’s not) and stops to hail a cab. Jaime doesn’t want the night to end yet, not like this at least, so he looks around to find a place they can be together a little longer, away from people. He spots a museum across the street and grins, tugging her arm and walking them there. Brienne groans and shakes her head all the way there. Jaime tells her ‘Trust me, it’ll be fun’. They approach the man at the counter who tells them they have 30 minutes before the museum closes. Jaime pays for the tickets, thanks the man, and ushers Brienne into the first exhibit. To their relief, they seem to be the only ones there.

Jaime starts cracking jokes at everything he sees, animatedly gesturing at things as an attempt to cheer her up and distract her. Brienne offers him an appreciative smile but stays mostly quiet and crosses her arms, distant and still feeling insecure from earlier events. Jaime sees this and sighs. He doesn’t want her to think that he’s uncomfortable with being seen in public with her, like he’s ashamed to call her his girlfriend. Like he doesn’t enjoy her company. He plots a way to save their night (and possibly their relationship).

At the second exhibit, he tells Brienne he has to go the men’s restroom but actually goes to see the man behind the counter for a favour. When he comes back, they walk around the exhibit in silence, examining things separately. Brienne sighs, a little frustrated and turns to him, "Can we please go now?". Jaime stays silent but holds a finger up, motioning her to wait. Brienne looks at him confused but before she can ask, pop music starts playing from the speakers. Jaime grins at her. And Oh, she Knows that look too well, he's planning something. Brienne watches him closely, one eyebrow raised.

Jaime, still grinning, walks a few paces away from her, then turns around and does a dramatic popping arm wave and passes it to her. He raises an eyebrow at her, encouraging her to accept the wave. Brienne scoffs at him, bewildered but secretly amused. She turns her back to him and walks away. For a second, Jaime’s worried he's pushing things too far tonight with the sudden dance, afraid she’ll leave. As his arm lowers, Brienne rolls her (BEAUTIFUL MUSCULAR BARE) shoulders and cracks her neck. A pause. And she tentatively extends her arm, bends it 90 degrees and does a robot wave, passing it back to him. Sucker starts playing, ‘We go together’. Jaime's face immediately lights up, captivated by her and her trust in him. Brienne looks at him embarrassed but determined, wanting to give this a try.

And they dance. Brienne totally does that Pick Up Gown/Skirt And Sway It Left And Right like Emma Stone did in La La Land. There are also disco moves, attempted hip hop moves, a little waltz here and there (Jaime leading and dipping her effortlessly, sometimes Brienne twirls him), looking at each other while doing the side shuffle from The Breakfast Club

When the chorus hits, ‘I'm a sucker for you, you say the word and I'll go anywhere blindly’, they’re running around exhibits, touching things they're not supposed to, Jaime twirling her, Brienne teasing him, Jaime chasing after her, Jaime doing the splits and failing (and Brienne laughing at him)

Everything is magical and playful, bokeh lights everywhere. In one of the hallways, they do the back and forth shimmy towards each other. In another exhibit, they sit on a bench and do something like the tap dance scene in La La Land

Also like.. the best thing about brienne's dance moves is that it's based off her longsword training. The way she spins her body and arms? Her wrist and feet? She's channeling her training, but it’s a little different from Arya’s water dancing. Brienne’s movements are more masculine and powerful but it makes her feel so good because it's what she's familiar with. And Jaime loves it, heart eyes and admiration 24/7. But Brienne also dares to step out of her comfort zone and try more feminine movements, because she Wants to and Jaime + empty museum is giving her a safe space to explore that side of her. "And you're making typical me break my typical rules" <3

For our viewing pleasure (lmao), their movements start having more finesse and we watch as they transform into skilled contemporary dancers. We see Brienne grabbing his tie and pulling him towards her, pressing her palms onto his chest to push him away, Jaime’s hands running down her sides before she slips out of his hold, Jaime picking her up and pressing her close against him, LOTS of almost-kisses, and the finale... Jaime on his knees crawling towards Brienne as she grips his tie tightly in one hand and a high heel on his shoulder WITH LEG PEEKING THROUGH THE DRESS AAA

This dance is totally trying to parallel their fight in the books.... it’s just.... sex guys....

Eventually, they stumble into the lobby and Jaime is tryna steal a kiss but the song abruptly stops. We see a security guard staring at them with a flashlight. He tells them the museum closed 10 minutes ago and they need to go now. Brienne and Jaime awkwardly apologize and leave in silence, Brienne covering her face in embarrassment... but once they're outside, they burst out laughing uncontrollably, sides hurting. Jaime wipes a tear from his eye and fishes out his phone to book them an Uber. We see Brienne touch his wrist and shake her head, "I have a better idea”. She smirks and juts her chin towards a building down the street. Jaime gives her his famous s7 “fuck loyalty?” confused look

In the next scene, the song continues with the chorus “I’m a sucker for you” but this time they're in some downtown club, wearing the same clothes, pressed closely to one another, beaming and bopping to the music. Time seemingly slows down, we see Brienne and Jaime doing shots and letting loose, having so much fun on the dance floor. And even though it’s packed, their eyes are only on each other.

As the music fades out, the scene transitions to the next morning, we see Brienne drooling and sleeping naked under the covers, hair disheveled, their clothes scattered on the floor. Jaime, equally disheveled, rises up quietly and presses a kiss to her temple. He walks to the kitchen to make them coffee and as he’s waiting for the water to boil, we hear a shit ton of notification sounds from his phone. He unlocks it and it's from.... everyone. He opens his chat with Tyrion first. "Had fun last night??? Father is gonna be so pissed. Proud of you two". Confused, Jaime scrolls down and opens a link Tyrion shared. It's an article about him and Brienne's night at the club from the night before. The title is something like "Lion of Lannister parties hard with Mysterious Tarth Girl". Whoever wrote it (in my head it was Ellaria Sand hehe) said very interesting but glowing things about Brienne, which amuses him. He’s not at all surprised by how fast the media works by now but he’s grateful for the pleasant change in the way the media is reporting their relationship today.

He scrolls through the gallery of pictures attached to the article and stops at a somewhat blurry but candid picture of Brienne, looking confident and free. He stares at the picture for a solid minute, drinking in every detail. Her arms thrown up, legs bent, eyes wild, toothy smile. Brienne living in the moment. Brienne being herself. Brienne happy. Jaime doesn’t think twice before saving that picture and making it his lock screen picture. As he switches back to the messaging app to reply Tyrion, there's a loud crash and scream coming from the bedroom. "They said WHAT about me!?" Jaime shakes his head as he laughs, pours them both a mug of coffee and walks off screen with their mugs. The music video ends.

I have no life so I also drew this!!!!!!!!!

Also for whatever reason, I couldn’t stop thinking about music related AU’s like:

Music and Lyrics AU: Jaime, the former 80′s pop music heartthrob and Brienne, his neighbour who’s looking for more jobs to pay her rent. Imagine them writing and singing Way Back Into love again

Pitch Perfect AU: Brienne, the new Barden Bellas recruit and Jaime, the leader of the Treblemakers. Everyone knows they’re in love except them.

The Office’s Jim & Pam Wedding March but it’s Jaime and Brienne and Sansa + Tyrion (together or not together, up to you) planning it

Lip Sync Battle. Who wins? What are the two songs they perform? How extra were they?

#jaime x brienne #The Umbrella Academy had a very corny dance scene that I loved a lot!!#I couldn’t stop thinking about Jaime and Brienne having their own impromptu dance scene in a modern AU so this happened #braime

10 notes · View notes

dachi-chan25 · 7 years

Note

Would you pretty pretty please write Dickon courting Sansa and having to face all of her protective male family members (everyone lives because this is Denial Town)

Denial Town AU

Standing in the courtyard once again waiting for their southroun visitors just as they did many moons ago when King Robert came along with Queen Cersei and Prince Joffrey…how Sansa had admired him! She had fancied herself in love with him, had thought he would be her Prince Aemon the Dragonknight or the Florian to her Jonquil, soon enough she started to see that wasn’t the case (Lady) and still she tried so hard to be like all the ladies from the songs, wanted to be as beautiful and just as queen Alyssane…

She wouldn’t.

Lord Baelish had warned her life wasn’t a song, and now she understood, father had explained the Queen’s treachery and Joffrey’s baseborn nature, the Kingslayer incestuous relationship with Queen Cersei… She had been so horrified at first she thought them to be lies, but her father would never say anything but the truth, worst of all had been King Robert’s wrath, she could still hear the screams and the thunderous sound of the warhammer against the bodies of the Queen and her children . Life wasn’t a song alright, life was a horror tale like the ones Old Nan used to tell during the stormy nights.

Truth to be told she wasn’t specially looking forward to meet her possible bethroted, as far as she knew he was the heir and her Lord father said he got the highest praises from his elder brother at the Wall (why would an heir leave his home for the Wall she could not fathom) but then again everyone had said the most wondrous things about Joffrey, and while he showed himself charming and gallant at the start he lied to the King and did nothing when Queen Cersei had Lady killed.

The Tarly’s seat (that Dickon would inherit someday) was Hornhill said to be a beautiful keep in the Reach. The South had always been her dream, and Hornhill was surely lovely, full of flowers and frutal trees of all kinds but, at the same time she felt weary, the South wasn’t kind to the Starks it hadn’t been kind to her gentle and beautiful Lady.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of the horses’ hoots thuding against the fresh summer snow that coated lightly the soil of the King’s Road. Her lady mother instructed Rickon to stand straight and checked once more Arya was in her proper place beside her. Strangely enough her usually unruly sister had dressed without making a fuss and was in her very best behavior.

Two guards entered the courtyard carrying the banner with a red hunter against the green field that was the Tarly’s sigil, right behind him a giant of a man (though definetly shorter than Ser Gregor Clegane) with a balding head, close trimmed beard and stern square face rode a magnificent black stallion, she guessed he was Lord Randyll Tarly.

Beside him a tall and handsome boy of golden hair and blue eyes, a shade or two darker than her own riding a dark brown horse. That was him, her stomach knotted, that was Dickon Tarly.

The golden hair reminded her of Joffrey for a moment, but the two boys had nothing else in common, where Joffrey had been lean and delicate Dickon was broad and strong looking, his face was square like his Lord’s father but without the sterness, he lacked completely the easy charm and authority Joffrey had displayed, Dickon had an aura of awkwardness around him… but he also looked surprisingly gentle.

Her eyes met with his for a moment, and she almost giggles at the expression in his face (mouth agape, blue eyes open wide and color rising in his cheeks) she lowered her eyes to prevent in but still a smile broke into her face.He, this possible new bethroted of hers, was strangely endearing.

Robb didn’t like this boy, he was blond like a Lannister and that foolish expression he made at the sight of his sister! He was most probably as craven as that bastard prince Joffrey.

His Lord father had told him about Joffrey’s supposed cruelty and how badly he would have treated his sweet sister, and asked him to keep and observant eye on the Tarly boy, his first impression of the blond boy had been completely unflattering, but that didn’t mean he was opposed to a more through inspection in the courtyard, if the boy wasn’t at least passable with the sword then he was not deserving of Sansa, she needed someone strong enough to protect her.

After the small feast his father had thrown in the honor of the Tarlys, during which Robb had to escort Lady Talla Tarly, a sweet little girl as timid as princess Myrcella had been. Robb asked Lord Dickon to spar with him in the courtyard, his mother had shot him a disapproving glare but Lord Tarly had seemed eager for his son to accept, and when Dickon finally did Lord Tarly insisted on watching.

“I’ll fetch the padded armors” Ser Rodrick said.

“There’s no need for that” Lord Tarly stepped out blocking Winterfell’s Maester at Arms way “My heir knows well the blows of the wooden sword, he is a Tarly of Hornhill and needs padded armors as much as Winterfell’s heir”

Robb nodded “We’ll do it the way Lord Tarly desires Ser Rodrick” he took one of the wooden swords in the rack and swung it with ease from side to side “‘Tis are but wooden swords, no real harm can be done with them”

Blond haired Dickon took a sword of his own and they began at Ser Rodrick’s comand. Robb’s first blow was packed with as much strenght as he could muster but the Tarly boy stopped it easily with his own shield and gave his own blow, Robb barely avoided to take it in full force, begrudgingly he admited the hit would have probably made him drop his sword, the boy two years his junior was taller than him and now that he was really looking at him Robb realised he and the bastard Lannister had nothing in common but the hair color, the Tarly had strong arms and broad shoulders.

Both had taken numerous blows, but now the sun was setting and soon they would be called for supper, Robb was sure his Lady mother wouldn’t take kindly to ther future Warden of the North supping with sweat deipping down the table, much less in font of guests. And even if Lord Tarly ad been very insistent, his father had insisted both of them needed food and some rest, at the end he had to admit the boy was very good, Robb had still won most of the matches but in a few years maybe the lad will give him a run for his money.

“Your swordmanship is very good” Robb said while both, he and Dickon put their swords in their rack.

The boy looked surprised and almost bashful before his face split in a grin “Thank you! I– I mean thank you m'lord, it was an honor”

He shook his head “It’s fine you needn’t be so formal, I had a very good time” then feeling mischevious leaned closed so only Dickon could hear “but if you ever harm my sister I’m afraid the next time our swords cross it won’t be fun…well at least for you”The boy nodded fervently, he wasn’t scared as Robb was aiming, he seemed almost solemn “I would never dare m'lord”And that’s the moment Robb thought mayhaps the boy would make him a fine goodbrother.

Arya glared at the blond haired prick sitted beside her sister, he was such a ridiculous fool, all stamering and blushing like a maid. Not for the first time she wished Jon was here so they could both laugh at the fool.

Robb seemed to like him well enough, but then again Robb had never dealt with Joffrey, he didn’t know how those kind of monsters would act all sweet and knightly with Sansa and then sent someone to murder common boys like her friend Mycah.

She rememberd how her father had talked with her after she had screamed at Sansa on their way back home because her sister ever the perfect lady had insisted on praying for the souls of the Lannisters.

“He is a liar, and so was the Queen and her brother! Why waste her tears and prayers on them? They also killed Lady!”

Her father had looked her in the eye and said very patiently “That may be so, but Tommen and Myrcella were completely innocent, your sister has a good soul if she can forgive them for the harm they caused her”

“I know she does” she sighed “It’s just irritating how blind she was! Joffrey would have been awful to her and then I would have killed him, I was going to anyway”

“You musn’t speak like that, taking a life is no easy matter and should not be taking lightly. Instead of thinking such a things you should try to help your sister like I told you before you need each other, if your sister is blind to other’s faults then be her eyes”

And that’s what she was doing, Sansa sometimes irritated her to no end, but there were times she was pretty funny, and even if they fought constantly Arya still loved her, and she would ever allow her sister to marry a prick like Joffrey so she was using the abilities Syrio had taught her, she observed and waited, she even dressed in that stupid uncomfortable wool dress she hated and behave the best she could just so she wouldn’t draw attention to herself. She had watched him in the courtyard with Robb, he was awfully clumsy but also strong, nothing impressing for strenght was nothing against tha dance of swords Syrio was teaching her.

So after supper she followed him silent as a cat, like she did back in the Red Keep, and followed the blond Tarly to his chambers.

Swiftly she cornered him agaist the door pressing the tip of Needle to his doublet.

“M'Lady!” he squealed surprised and frightened in equal meassures.

She glared at him “ I just want you to know I’ll be watching you, and if you are anything like Joffrey or make Sansa cry you’ll end up full of holes, I may not be strong like you but I’m quicker”

“I would never do any harm to Lady Sansa” he said “but if I do you have my permission to do as you please m'lady”

She drew back Needle “I don’t need your permission”

“I-I know” and then added with a timid smile “That’s a nice sword, did your Lord father gave it to you?”

She shook her head “My brother Jon, he is at the Wall”

“My older brother Sam– I mean Samwell is at the Wall as well though he didn’t left me such a nice gift, he didn’t even said goodbye”

The sadness in his face and voice made Arya feel uncomfortable, she knew what it was like to miss a brother but if Jon hadn’t even said goodbye… It wasn’t fair! He was supposed to be awful but he was not, he was actually pretty likeable, irritatingly nice just like Sansa.

“I think you should ask my father about him, he went at the Wall to see Jon”

His stupid face cheered up instantly “I will, thank you m'lady”

And with a groan Arya left.

After breaking their fast on the morrow Robb took the Tarly oy to the kennels were their direwolves were kept, their mother had instructed them to leave them there as to not to starttle the Tarlys, but Dickon had showed a lot of interest in seeing them and Robb really enjoyed the boy’s company, besides it would be amusing if he got scared.

Figures Rickon and Bran had beat them there and were feeding their pups.

“Why did you come here?” asked little Rickon as the young Tarly had at least reached out to pet Greywind.

Dickon blushed “ I– w-well, m-my Lord father–”

Taking pity on him Robb answered “Father is seeking to make a match between him and Sansa”

“What does that mean Bran?” he asked turning to his brother who was sitting in a chair beside him.

“Father wants Sansa to marry them when they are older, and Sansa will become the lady of Hornhill.” Bran explained.

“And where is that?”

“In the Reach, very far away in the south”

Rickon furrowed his brow and turned towards Dickon.

“You can’t take my sister to the South!” he threw himself at Dickon and began to hit him where he could reach “she just came back, you can’t!”

Luckily Robb intervened before Shaggydog could involve himself on that fight. But now Rickon was trashing and crying in Robb’s arms.

“I’m afraid I don’t really have a say in that, but if LadySansa goes with me back to Hornhill I promise we’ll come visit as often as possible, and if your Lord father allows it maybe you cam visit as well m'lord, Hornhill has big forests and lots of hills I am sure your direwolves would like them very much.”

Rickon looked at him distrustfully “You would?”

“Yes m'lord”

“See Rickon?” said Bran ruffled his little brother’s hair “There’s nothing to worry about, and if there was well even if I can’t promise I could be of any use Summer could”

Even though Bran was smiling Robb shuddered a little, well better for the lad to be warned.

That evening Dickon would spend some time in the company of Lady Sansa, his father had pressed him to behave as the heir of Hornhill would (he still wasn’t really sure what that meant, he knew his obligations and tried his very best to be as strong as his father wanted but what did an heir exactly meant?) and his mother told him to be charming and gallant (he also didn’t know exactly how to be those, specially around pretty Lady Sansa, he could barely speak a word to her without blushing!) she even had him wear his finest doublet the emerald silk one with his house’s huntsman embroidered in small rubies on the left side of his chest.

When he entered Lady Stark’s solar she was already there with her Septa that was to chaperone them, her direwolf the smallest and prettiest of the pack in his opinion at her feet, she was singing and sewing. The song was not familiar to him– but then again he didn’t knew a lot of songs, his father said the heir of Hornhill had no time for songs and stupid stories– but he liked the sound of it.

“Sansa” the Septa called “Lord Tarly has arrived”

The girl raised her beautiful clear blue eyes at him and smiled. Dickon’s cheeks grew warm.

She stood and curtisied prettily at him “Good evening m'lord, you must forgive my rudeness”

He bowed, damning his clumsiness and lack of grace “N-no– I mean it’s fine. You-you did nothing wrong m'lady”

She smiled and prompted him to sit in front of her.

“Er- you have a lovely voice, what song were you singing m'lady?”

“Thank you m'lord, it was “The Winter Maid” is not a very popular song so maybe that is why you didn’t knew of it”“I really don’t know much about songs”

She stared at him very solemnly “Do they displease you?”

“No” he rushed to say “They please me well enough, it’s just that my Lord father doesn’t think I should spend a lot of time with songs and stories, I liked when my brother read them to me though” he said wistfully.

“If you want I could sing them for you” she offered timidly, her cheeks flushed.

He nodded dumbly, now he understood why the Starks were so protective over Lady Sansa she was so sweet and pretty surely no treasure in the North could compare to her. And really what were a few threats (that he himself would do when the time came for his father to seek matches for his little sisters) if he could have that smile and bright blue eyes?

—————-

So basically Ned got out of KL with Arya and Sansa after Robert muredred Cersei and her children, Robb never called the bannerman,Cat is back in WF, Bran and Rickon are alive and well and safe in WF. Ned went to the wall and told Jon about R+L=J but he still decided to stay in the wall, Ned meets Sam who talks great stuff about lil’ bro Dickon, and as Sansa is still sad about all the awful stuff that happened and wants to look for a good match for her as he promised he decides to invite the Tarly to WF. WW are not a thing cuz everyone lives happily ever after, and I know this doesn’t make any political sense and Randyll wouldn’t go all the way to WF (or maybe he would? i mean is a very good match and Sansa is a highborn lady of a very old and respectable house so Idk?) but politics and that stuff don’t matter in Denial Town.

#Dicksa #everyone lives AU #Denial Town AU #overprotective Starklings #my writing #young!Sansa #young!Dickon #Ned is trying to fullfil is promise #someone strong/brave/gentle

54 notes · View notes