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official-weasley · 3 years

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Meant to Be (Charlie Weasley x OC)

What happens when Bill brings home a girl and Charlie is completely awestruck by her?

WARNINGS: mentions of alcohol, curse words, angst

CHAPTER 8

Charlie

“How’s your wing today, little buddy?” Aami took a step towards me and started blowing smoke out of his nostrils. “Okay. You’re not little anymore.” I giggled to myself. “You’ll always be a baby to me, Aami.”

I did a motion with my wand which made the dragon’s meal levitate from the ground and towards him.

“Do you think we can try and jump in the air?”

This was my technique to help him fly. Everybody lost hope already. I didn’t and I won’t. His wing might not be as it’s supposed to be but I believe he can do it anyway.

I levitated the steak a few meters above his head. From left to right. He was moving his tail behind him, curiously eyeing his meal.

“That’s it. You just have to want it enough.” I lifted the piece of meat higher. “I promise I won’t call you little anymore if you try and catch it!”

I know he couldn’t understand me but I didn’t care. I talked to all dragons. My teammates were making fun out of me all the time and they imitated me. The last time Theo did it, he almost got scorched by Ogto. We told him that his voice is simply too rough and that he should try a gentler approach. There was nothing more fun than to tease Theodore during work.

“You want it, Aami. I can see it in your emerald eyes, now try and jump. Don’t be afraid.” Sometimes I didn’t even recognize my own voice, how gentle it was when I was talking to him.

I was a sucker for him since he hatched.

“How’s parenthood treating you?” I jumped in the air, hearing the voice behind me.

I lost my concentration and the steak fell straight into the Fireball’s mouth.

“Peter. Now look what you did!” I frowned at him.

“Sorry, Charlie. I thought you heard me coming.” Peter couldn’t suppress his laugh.

“I was too busy concentrating.” I sighed, watching Aami chew on the big piece of meat.

“Still no luck?” Peter came closer.

“No.” I bowed my head. “I’ll keep trying.”

“I admire your determination, Fireball Mother.” He put a hand on my back. “I am certain that one day you two will succeed.”

“Thanks, Peter.” I smiled appreciatively.

They might’ve lost hope but at least they were still supportive.

“Your team needs your help, Charlie. Are you almost done here?” Peter suddenly remembered why he came to see me.

“I think he’s going to be just fine until dinner.” I glanced at the dragon. The steak already gone. “What’s up?”

“Rhylee has reasons to believe that Ren caught a cold.” Peter started to explain. “Theo, of course, went to check it out at once.”

“And let me guess, he got hurt?” I raised my eyebrows.

“Of course, he got hurt! He didn’t listen to Rhylee and Evan that we should wait for you and Ren sneezed right at him.” Peter pinched the bridge of his nose.

I pressed my lips together not to laugh. I couldn’t get the image out of my mind. I could see how Ren sneezes and blows Theodore backward.

“Did he forget that he’s a wizard and that he should use a stunning charm before doing something so risky?” I chuckled.

“What else!” Peter said and I followed him to Ren’s enclosure.

“I brought someone with brains!” Peter shouted when we approached the group.

“Andrew helped Theo to the Recovery Center.” John explained.

“Peter, you’ll have to help us.” I turned to him and he nodded.

“Alright!” I clapped my hands together. “Rhylee you distract Ren with a piece of meat. John, make sure he is following your every move. Peter, you help me immobilize him.” They all took their positions.

Rhylee went to Ren’s left side. John was standing right in front of him, while Peter and I slowly sneaked to the right side.

“Ready?” I whispered to Peter and he gave me a thumbs up.

Suddenly, the dragon took a few steps backward and started shaking his head frantically.

“He’s going to blow!” I shouted. “Shit!” John stepped back.

“Protego!” Shouted Rhylee and jumped in front of John right in time for Ren’s sneeze.

Green goo flew everywhere and I crossed my arms in front of my face to not get it in my eyes. We all started laughing when we saw the dragon’s confused face.

“Thanks, Rhylee.” John smiled at her.

“Don’t mention it.” She started getting the green substance off her clothes.

We finally managed to stun Ren and bring the Healers to check on him. They confirmed that he had a cold and gave us some medicine which we should mix into his water for a few days.

This has pretty much been the last few months. Rhylee has been working with us for 5 months now and to say that she was doing great was an understatement. Peter even joked that if I wasn’t so good at my job she would take over my position.

And I couldn’t even argue with him. She was amazing with dragons. I knew she loved them as much as I did but to see her working with them, taking care of them was something else. She was so gentle and careful with them as if they couldn’t swallow her whole. She was agile and always aware of her surroundings. She was basically the perfect Dragonologist.

Which, of course, was hell for me. I appreciated Peter hiring her because we needed someone like her on the team. Not that others weren’t doing a great job but when someone cares as much as she does, it just shows. However, it was torture getting to know her so well.

While we were working we didn’t have a chance to talk much, which was great. But just looking at her, observing her every move, and telling her what to do, has been hard enough. She did everything I told her without thinking twice about it and she did it flawlessly. She grew on me even more which was something I hate to admit because I knew it was wrong.

During the weekends she kept mostly by herself or she helped Tina in the Nursery. She, just like me, didn’t know how to take a day off. She asked for a free day once every 14 days and went back to England.

If all of her amazing work wasn’t enough for my poor heart and me already losing my mind, it was even worse when she joined us for a pint. I found out so many things about her that I wish I didn’t know.

She was a Bellefeuille at Beauxbatons and she was both a Prefect and a Head Girl. We all agreed that she was sorted in the right house as she really was brave and loved nature and she cares strongly for her friends. She proved that to us on several occasions during her time here and the boys loved her.

She has a pet Kneazle named Beau which is currently living with her roommate Lyla, back in England. Her parents insisted that she goes to Beauxbatons even though they lived in Britain. She applied to work in the Peruvian Dragon Sanctuary but her application was denied so she accepted the job at Gringotts.

If I thought she was amazing when I first met her, then I don’t know what the word for her is now. I was falling for her and I was falling hard. I tried not to think about her and to hide my feelings as much as I could. The guys teasing me about it every time she wasn’t around didn’t help my cause.

The only good thing about the whole situation was that we were never alone and if we were, we never talked about anything else than work. I also noticed that we got more relaxed around each other and that awkwardness we had between us the first couple of weeks finally went away. I hate to admit it but we were becoming really good friends and I don’t know how I feel about that.

—

“I just don’t understand why they have to be such pushovers.” John rolled his eyes. “If I wanted to be bossed around I would’ve invited my mother for a visit.” Theo added.

“They’re researchers. They’ll never change.” I calmed them down.

It was the time of the year again. May. The mating season and each year we were losing our minds. Besides the teams that took care of dragons, we also had researchers. Those observed our work and wrote papers about it that were later published in magazines. They always intervened in our business but the mating season was the worst. They were worst to deal with than mother dragons.

“Every year’s the same!” John didn’t stop complaining. “Why don’t you put them in this habitat? Can you put them together! Why did you do it like this?” He imitated them.

“Why don’t they go up the hill and stick something up their arses!” Andrew took a sip of his beer.

“Then who would write reports about that?” They all laughed at my question.

“Charlie?” We all looked up, Rhylee standing in front of us.

“Yeah?”

“Can I talk to you?” She said, biting her lip.

“Sure.” I took a sip of my Fire Whiskey, ready to listen to what she has to say.

“In private.” I almost bit in my glass at her words.

She looked embarrassed and nervous at the same time.

I could feel the eyes on me, the guys waiting for what I was going to say back to her. I decided to ignore them and just stood up. She grabbed my hand, something I neither expected nor was okay with because my heart went crazy at her touch. She dragged me away, behind a nearby hut and made sure nobody was around.

“I have something to tell you.” She whispered.

“Obviously.” I tried lightening the mood.

Why was she so nervous?

“I…” She pursed her lips together and looked like she was about to cry.

“Hey, hey.” I put my hands on her shoulders. “Rhy, what is it, you’re scaring me.”

“I got a letter today from one of my ex co-workers, Lizzie.” She started to explain. “She told me that Kyan, the Ukranian Ironbelly, failed to protect one of the vaults a few days ago and went berserk. He hurt 3 Bank workers in the process and the people trying to get past him succeeded in breaking inside the vault.” Her lip started trembling.

I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to hug her and stroke her hair and calm her down but I would cross too many boundaries doing so, so I just tightened the grip on her shoulders.

“They are going to execute him, Charlie.” She burst into tears and buried her head in my shoulder. “The Ministry said that they can’t tolerate such a disobedient dragon and they want to get rid of him.”

My heart sank. I knew how much she loved those dragons. They meant everything to her. They were her family and now one of them is going to be murdered. I hugged her awkwardly. My mind completely blank. What am I supposed to say in this situation? This was terrible. They can’t just execute a dragon without any proof!

“Is there anything we can do?” I asked softly.

“The team I worked with will appeal for a trial. If they succeed they will be able to provide evidence that it wasn’t the dragon's fault.” She sobbed.

“Isn’t that obvious without proof?” She pulled her head back and looked at me.

We were too close for my liking. I could feel her breath on my cheek.

“That’s what I said to myself when I read her letter.” She said, astonished that I thought the same. “You know the Goblins don’t care for the dragons and if this one gets executed they can just get a new one.” Tears started running down her cheeks again.

“What am I supposed to do, Charlie?”

Rhylee, please stop looking at me like that!

Her eyes were big and puffy and hopeful.

“I…” I swallowed hard. I hope she couldn’t feel my heartbeat through my shirt. “We’ll ask around the Sanctuary. Perhaps somebody might be able to help us. Maybe someone here knows the law and can help us build a case.” I tried smiling as much as my muscles allowed me while being as stiff as I was because we were still embraced.

“You would help me build a case?” She finally pulled away.

“Of course. I know how much those dragons mean to you even if you don’t work with them anymore.” I reassured her. “Every creature’s life matters.”

“You’re the best, Charlie!” She jumped in my arms again.

Since when were we hugging so much?

“There’s something else.” She whispered after a few moments of silence.

I only hummed.

I didn’t know what to say. I couldn’t think straight. The sweet smell of her shampoo filled my nose and I was thinking of any way how I could take a deep breath without her noticing. I felt like suffocating.

We went for a run a few times together over the last month and last week we actually talked about something else than work. It was nice. I was always having a nice time with her even if we were just sitting in silence. I felt us becoming good friends and I’m glad she came to me with this but the hugging was definitely new and I was too deep to handle it properly.

“I did something terrible and probably illegal.” Her words were my chance to pull away from her.

“What?” I chuckled.

I couldn’t tell if she was joking or not. What could she possibly have done that it was illegal?

“Come with me.” She grabbed my hand again, making my heart skip a beat and dragged me to her hut.

She unlocked the door and invited me inside.

I was never at her place before. It was definitely neater than mine. I did clean but my stuff was everywhere and I never made my bed. She had flowers everywhere and even though it was dark outside, her place looked way brighter than mine.

My eyes stopped on the big box in the middle of her living room. Is this was she was talking about? She slowly approached the box and kneeled next to it. She gestured for me to come and join her.

“Rhy, what…” She stopped me by putting a finger over my lips.

I froze.

I will lose it if she keeps touching me like this.

“He’s probably sleeping.” She said, her voice barely audible.

“He?” I whispered.

“Do you remember the albino dragon I worked with?” She asked.

“How could I forget.” I replied.

“Lizzie wrote to me a few months back that they got another Swedish Short-Snout.” She started to explain. “They thought that the one already at Gringotts was a boy so they got another boy. It turned out that they were wrong.”

“Dash is a girl?” I put a hand over my mouth as I said that a tad too loudly.

She nodded. I narrowed my eyes at her and looked at the box and back to her.

“Rhy, what’s in the box?” I said slowly.

“Look for yourself.” She squinted.

I turned to the box and slowly opened it. It was a baby albino Swedish Short-Snout. I felt like a kid on Christmas morning. It finally happened! My wish to see an albino dragon came true. This was amazing. Merlin’s beard was he a beaute! I was in love!

I shook my head snapping out of it. This was a serious situation.

“What is he doing in the middle of your living room?” I pursed my lips at her.

“Sleeping?” She said with the most innocent grin on her face.

“Rhy. Tell me what you did.”

“They don’t tolerate baby dragons in Gringotts, Charlie.” She bowed her head. “They don’t have a nursery down there like we have here. Lizzie was the one who spotted the eggs and managed to steal one before the Goblins noticed. She wanted to save more of them but there was simply not enough time.” I could see tears gathering in her eyes again.

“I snuck out a few days ago and went to get him. I thought that once he’s here, we could give him a proper home.”

Boy did she know how to melt my heart. Her big eyes, pleading me to do something. To say something encouraging.

“We’ll find Peter first thing in the morning and tell him.” I said.

“What? No! I told you this in confidence!” She stood up and started pacing around the living room.

She was adorable.

“Relax.” I giggled. “Do you really think this is the first time someone smuggled an illegal dragon to the Sanctuary?”

“It’s not?” She stopped.

“When my brother Ron was in his First year my friend Hagrid who works at Hogwarts got himself a dragon egg and Ron wrote to me if we could take him in. We brought him here and Peter dealt with the paperwork. I swear that guy can make anything look legal.” I laughed and stood up.

I walked to her and placed my hands on her shoulders. This was allowed now, right?

“We’ll tell Peter and he’ll deal with the administrative work. We’ll settle the little guy in and that’s it.” I lifted her chin so that her eyes met mine.

That was a bloody mistake. I need to make a mental note to never do that again. Her eyes were so full of emotions. She was on the verge of tears but I think this time, they were happy tears. She looked so thankful, so appreciative. I couldn’t handle it.

“That’s it?” She said in a whisper.

She was blown away at how easy the whole thing was. I nodded and gently pulled away.

I would panic if I wasn’t in a similar situation a few years ago. I went straight to Peter then and I was a nervous wreck when I explained everything. He calmed me down and told me that he’ll take care of everything as long as the dragon gets transported here without anyone seeing it.

“Is the dragon here?” Her curiosity got the better of her.

“He is.” I smiled. “I was sad when he was assigned to another team last year but I go and see him at least once or twice per week. His name is Norbert but the researchers think he might be a girl so we will have to rename him.” I chuckled and looked back at the now opened box.

“You did the right thing, Rhy.” I gazed at her and walked to the box. Her eyes told me that she wanted to meet Norbert. She has been here since September but she didn’t have the pleasure to meet all the dragons yet even though I knew she wanted to. “He’ll do just fine here.” I reassured her.

I didn’t need to stand next to her to feel her body relax. She was so worried about what I would say upon seeing what’s in the box. Perhaps she even thought I would be angry or that she would be fired but we don’t do that here.

You bring a dragon, we give it a home. It’s that simple.

I was happy I was the one who she decided to tell her secret to but at the same time, I started liking her even more because of it. She went through all this trouble to save this baby dragon. She could get fired or even imprisoned by the Ministry if they found out.

But she took the risk. She didn’t care. She just wanted to save one egg and make sure that he gets a home. She didn’t worry about herself. She put dragons first and I admired her for that more than anything. I would’ve done the same. Heck, I would probably fly there on a broom in the middle of the night just to get at least one egg to safety.

I know she felt bad that she couldn’t save more of them. I know if it was up to her, she would’ve saved them all. And I know that deep down, she blamed herself for leaving because perhaps if she was there, things might’ve gone differently. It was insane how similar we were when it came to that and I didn’t need her to tell me these things, I just knew they were in her head.

She waited for me in front of my hut the next morning. We went to find Peter at once and informed him of the situation. He gave Rhylee a similar speech I did and told her that everything was going to be okay. He ordered me to get my team so we could safely transport the little guy to the habitat with other younglings.

John, Theo, and Evan helped Rhylee and me to get him through the door, while Andrew went to get the Healing team and Tina to do a check-up. After we were done, I sent my team to do our usual feeding routine, while I stayed with the little guy. I couldn’t take my eyes off him. If Aami saw me he would’ve scorched me out of jealousy.

I couldn’t believe we had an albino in the Sanctuary and Rhylee and I have been debating names all morning during breakfast. So far we came up with DJ which stands for Dash Junior, Ally, Bean, and Zyon. Of course, I would let her name him because she was the one who brought him here and was going to train with him like I was doing with Aami.

I am not going to lie, I was a bit jealous she would be able to spend all this extra time with him. But I knew it’s better that she does it because I knew I would spend half of the time just staring at him. He looked just as I imagined Dash when Rhylee described him when we first met. White scales with reddish ones on the tip of his tail. He had red eyes and we couldn't wait for him to get older so we could see if his eyes are going to change color as Dash’s did.

—

Rhylee got a letter a few days after she told me about Kyan that they will hold a trial for him. With enough evidence, we could send them an application and apply as custodians meaning Kyan would become a part of the Romanian Sanctuary family of dragons.

We spent the next week asking around if anyone knows anything about creature trials and how to appeal a case to the Ministry. Nobody really knew how to help us and a lot of people recommended a library.

She corresponded with Lizzie regularly, to give her any information that she could about how we can approach this and what papers we would need to fill out to be allowed to do this. The biggest problem was, that there was no evidence that the dragon was attacked or why he didn’t protect the vault but hurt the Bank workers instead and let the attackers escape.

Lizzie told Rhylee that they did a check-up on him and didn’t detect any kind of unusual or recent magic on him that would indicate that the group he let pass enchanted him in any way. All odds were against us but Rhylee didn’t lose hope. I admired her for that.

She reminded me of myself when everyone told me that Aami wasn’t going to make it. That he was too small to survive without a mother. I didn’t give up on him and I believed that he would survive. He still might not be able to fly but he is doing just fine. He is healthy and cheerful and he loves to play even though he’s nearing adulthood now.

#harry potter fanfiction #charlie weasley #charlie weasley fanfiction #the weasleys #weasley family #hp imagine #charlie weasley x oc #charlie weasley imagine #the burrow #harry potter imagine #weasley fanfiction #charlie weasley x mc #bill weasley #harry potter #wizarding world

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bookworm-blogs · 3 years

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Surprise Ask!: Some Kayama and Shirakumo headcannons?

I’M SORRY FOR NOT RESPONDING SOONER I’VE BEEN BUSY W/ WORK N SHIT FHFHFHH

But omg yes! HELL yess I do!!

Since you didn't specify whether their relationship would be platonic or romantic, I'll just do both because BY GOD THEIR FRIENDSHIP ITSELF IS HEAVILY OVERLOOKED. (I'm still salty about Kayama's lack of presence in the main magna regarding the Kurogiri reveal. She's just as much a friend to Shirakumo as Aizawa and Yamada, damn it! Then again Horikoshi could be holding off on us for a reason idk we'll just have to wait and see...)

Anyways! Platonic (ft. Rooftop Gang) headcannons!

1. Kayama and Shirakumo have a similar taste in music. I know our world and the BNHA world are different (apparently they haven't reached the moon yet in BNHA?? And Aizawa had a touch screen phone in Vigilantes so I'm assuming their generation and our millennials grew up a tad bit differently), but I can't help but think they would be complete nerds of 80's rock. Smashing Pumpkins, Fleetwood Mac, Red Hot Chili Peppers... These two would always contact each other on when the next album hits and be each other's first choice to concerts and would always blow all their money on band merch. Their all-time favorite song would probably be "Go Your Own Way" by Fleetwood Mac, or "September” by Earth, Wind, and Fire. They always argue about which is better.

2. These two are the BIGGEST video game nerds. Every now and then, when they aren’t busy with school or work studies, Kayama would come over to Shirakumo’s house to play games with him. Aizawa isn’t too fond of video games, and Yamada prefers to listen to different types of podcasts, so that leaves Kayama to be Shirakumo’s gamer buddy, which isn’t bad at all since this girl loves all types of games. From Animal Crossing to the Halo franchise, Kayama has a surprisingly broad range, with her favorite genre of video games being horror shooter games like Resident Evil. Shirakumo isn’t a big fan of horror and is more a fan of free world games like Red Dead Redemption or The Last of Us, though he does make an exception for point and click horror games.

3. Kayama occasionally pops in on the boys’ study sessions. Usually, Yamada would be at the helm tutoring Shirakumo and Aizawa, though Kayama would pop in from time to time to help him with harder subjects like history since she’s smart. She used to host their sessions at her house, though that quickly stopped since she always dressed up as a sexy teacher and got a little too close to the boys while showing them how to solve equations.

4. They would regularly barge in each others’ homes. Shirakumo was especially guilty of this, as he would use his clouds to fly over to his friends’ room windows and sneak in through through them. It became such a common occurrence that Aizawa, Yamada, and Kayama all decided to just keep their windows open for the cloud boy to come in whenever. Usually Aizawa would be Shirakumo’s favorite victim (he loved watching Aizawa leap out of his skin every time he knocked on the window), though Yamada and Kayama were just as entertaining (Shirakumo once knocked on Yamada’s window and nearly went deaf after the blond screamed with his quirk on. Kayama was a bit more risky for obvious reasons). Kayama was the first one to return the favor, however, and when Shirakumo saw her sitting on his bed in the dark while petting Sushi like an evil mastermind, he let out a high pitched scream that Kayama still holds over his head to this day.

5. Kayama and Shirakumo "flirt" with each other all the time. You know Ayame and Shigure from Fruits Baskets? How they would say something incredibly corny to each other before suddenly being like, "haha cheers mate." That's these two. Since they hang out on a regular basis, people always make fun of them by calling them boyfriend/girlfriend. One day, they got so fed up with having to explain themselves that they decided, "fuck it, if they want a show we'll give them a show." When they made their first target pass out from a furious blush and a bloody nose, Shirakumo and Kayama made this their "how to keep hoes at bay" strategy. Yamada finds their antics hilarious, while Aizawa always thought it was weird. Every time they "flirt," Shirakumo and Kayama always make sure to say "no hetero" as soon as the other person is gone.

Now for the romantic headcannons!

1. Everything is the same, except Shirakumo forgot to say "no hetero." This made Shirakumo have an existential crisis for about a month. He would always ask himself, "Why didn't I say it that time? Was I being stupid? Or did I actually mean it? What if this changes our friendship forever? Oh God, what if she hates me?" Aizawa would always be the first person Shirakumo goes to to vent his woes, sometimes even coming to his room in the middle of the night. While Shirakumo would ramble about how bad it is to catch feelings for his gal pal, Aizawa would always listen until he's done before telling him to just confess. Shirakumo doesn't, and this routine lasts an entire month.

2. Kayama realizes Shirakumo's growing crush but doesn't say anything bc she wants to hear it from him. This man tries acting like nothing's bothering him, but he was as obvious as Dipper from Gravity Falls (muttering under his breath and hopping at the first opportunity to hang out with her). At first Kayama didn't think much of it, but when she caught him glaring at a couple gawking boys in the hallway, she realized what was also going on.

3. After 3 months of awkwardness, Kayama finally dragged him off on a date. Shirakumo was terrified the entire time, waiting for Kayama to tell him he's not her type, but was shocked when she bluntly told him, "we should start dating" after watching a movie. Everything fell into place afterwards.

4. These two became the hottest couple at UA. Up until the Tasomiya Incident, Shirakumo and Kayama acted a lot like how they did before, except they now had dinner dates, movie nights, and all the fun couple stuff like making out behind the school and genuinely flirting (much to their friends' disgust. Seriously, do these two have no shame?). Kayama loved going shopping, and Shirakumo was more than happy to carry around her stuff on his clouds. Once, they got caught sneaking out to the pier at night and made a brave escape on Shirakumo's clouds. As soon as they got back to his house, they were on the floor, laughing.

5. After Shirakumo's death, Kayama hadn't dated since. Sometimes she would go out whenever her friends would set her up, but Shirakumo was the last time she ever has a serious relationship. She protects Sushi with her life, even as he grows older. Sushi was the last living remnant of Shirakumo, and she wants to keep him for as long as possible.

Little does she know he may not be as dead as she thinks... (Dun, dun dun)

Anyways yeah, I’m a slut for this rarepair and it breaks my heart that there isn’t more content on it. Fear not, my fellow CloudNight stans, for I am making a fanfic on Ao3 rn and am also gonna make a one-shot in a few days! Thank you, Nightowl, for giving me the chance to scream for a bit! ;’)

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fanfiction-funtime · 3 years

Text

Alexander Vodka lines

I did most of the characters, but some I don't know or genuinely can't think of anything. Hope this is good >-<

Hello: Hey there, your that Traveler fella ain’t ya? Hope I don't owe you copyrights for the name. Hm? I don’t? Well then, what can I help ya with?

Adventures? Sure why not, I could use the inspiration.

Two names: You’re curious why I have two names? Well it's sort of a thing in Snezhnaya that officers and other high ranking people have two names, like how harbingers do. Since I’m a high ranking member of the Schneznayan authors association, well former member, I have the name “Eis Cay’zar” meaning “ice ruler”. And Alexander Vodka is a pen name. Hm? What's my resistance name and real one? Well now Traveler, a man must have some secrets.

Change of tone: Ah yes, people often find the way I change from more eloquent speech to more casual off putting. Well it's the same reason I wear two sets of clothes: sometimes I feel like looking like an old noir hero, other times I like looking like a new age caped crusader. Sometimes I like sounding high society, other times I enjoy sounding like I’m from Khaen’ria.

How do you know about Khaen’ria: Well I was looking for accents and found out about a place called “New York” or something, a bit of investigation and I discovered everything. My source? That's a secret, ehe.

Good morning: Mornin’ Traveler! What's in the mornin’ paper?

Noon: Lunch time, my favourite time of the day. Let’s go get some pizza, I’m famished!

Afternoon: Almost time to punch out, let's go knock some skulls first.

Night: *yawn* Today was fun, thanks buddy. Get some shut eye, or if you can't come meet me at (wanmin/angels share/the tea house), first rounds on me!

When it rains: I am so glad I got over my fear of contacts.

When it rains(with glasses outfit): Hey can we get under something? I can barely see!

When it stops raining: The smell that comes after rain has always been one of my favorites.

When it snows: Perfect weather to bundle up with a nice hot cup of hot chocolate!

When it stops snowing: Do you ever miss home, Traveler?

About freedom: I warned Barbados, you know that? I knew that as long as he saw it coming, Signora wouldn’t stand a chance. But he just looked at me and said, “good, when I’m gone mondstadt will be truly free of the gods”. That’s a man I’d follow to the depths of the abyss and back.

About Venti: Speaking of Barbados, he’s a great drinking buddy. Me and him knock back a couple hundred rounds whenever I’m in Mondstadt! Course I’m always paying the tab, but I consider it a way of repaying him for making songs about my books.

About Kaeya: The cavalry captain? He’s pretty cool if you ask me, modeled as Rex Mondoleon for the cover of a historical fiction book I made. But I’d still like to know what he’s hiding behind that smile.

About Diluc: Don’t tell him I told you this, but one time I found Diluc after he was hit by an abyss spell that made him drunk. While he was drunk he kept ranting about how sorry he is for kicking out his brother. The poor guy has all that forgiveness in him but he’s too afraid to let it out.

About Jean: The acting grandmaster of the knights is someone truly deserving of respect. She leads by being a good person and earning the respect of her people, and she has never once tried to cover up the mistakes of the knights. In fact if a knight makes a mistake she’ll rush out to fix it. Jean should be the grandmaster, not that crooked old bastard.

About Lisa: Lisa was my first friend in Mondstadt. She mailed me about getting copies of my books into the Mondstadt library, I said I’d do a signing to promote a new one, one thing led to another and now we have tea every ninth day of the month.

About Rosaria: Don’t tell anyone, but I’m very sure she’s a vampire. A nice one, but still.

About Barbara: Awe that little doll? I once saw her kill multiple fatui because they threatened some sick and injured travelers. So I think she’s a great person, takes compassion to save lives and guts to handle taking them as well.

About Bennett: Bennett? Yeah I know him, nice kid. He likes my books but kept breaking them, so now I make special enchanted ones so he can’t break them even if he tried.

About Razor: The guardian of wolvendom? He’s a weird one alright, but he’s not a bad guy. I taught him how to read and write.

About Fischl: That crazy kid? I don’t care what everyone else says, she’s nice. People need to learn to just leave people alone, she’s not hurting anyone with her persona.

About Noelle: You will never find someone more dedicated too...well anything than Noelle is too the knights and her training.

About Klee: Klee and I are great friends! Nothing is more stimulating than massive explosions!

About Amber: She always has interesting stories to tell, like one time where she got rid of some bandits by making a dummy merchant cart filled with explosives! Or the time she had to help a kid get her pet giant snake out from the cathedral!

About Zhongli: Heh, he thinks he’s slick, but I know he’s Rex Lapis. Gotta say I kinda hate him for just giving up his gnosis, however he did it to free his people so I can’t be mad.

About Ninnguang: Never much cared for economics because I don’t know much about ‘em, so I can’t say anything about her business sense. But I can say that she’s a great leader who puts her people first.

About Keqing: Haven’t talked to her enough to know much, but she’s dedicated to her people and that's enough for me. Her dislike of blind faith in the gods is definitely enough to make me want to get to know her better though.

About Qiqi: Qiqi’s a nice kid, I don’t care what anyone says her being a zombie doesn’t make her bad.

About Baizhu: Snake man? Nice guy, helps me be accurate in my books. Always worry about him though, one hot breeze and he’s out like a light.

About Xingqiu: Xingqiu always tries to hide his good deeds, and while I can respect anonymity I can’t let a hero go unsung. So I’ve written multiple short stories about him using a different name, and put in the beginnings that it’s based on a true story.

About Chongyun: His popsicles are great inventions, I’ve played around with the idea a bit and made flavored ones. So far I’ve got strawberry and grape down and am working on this weird fruit called a..Banananana? I think?

About Beidou: Captain Beidou is so cool! She tells me stories about her journeys out to see and I write about them, but after seeing her in action I can’t really say that I do her justice.

About Kazuha: Kazuha has suffered so much, yet he refuses to give up and curl up away from the world when he so easily could. I have immense respect for him.

About Xianling: You’d be surprised at how good slime and boar tusk can be.

About Xiao: I’ve written down many myths and legends of the yaksha, but sadly I've never seen him in person.

About Verr Goldet: Oh she’s great company! Good business sense, and always polite.

About Gorou: Many people rightly attribute the Resistance’s survival and victories to general Kokomi, but it’s wrong to say general Gorou isn’t a brilliant strategist. He knows how to rally his men against impossible odds, and how to keep them standing against them. I’d follow general Gorou into battle any day.

About Ayaka: Ayaka seems so lonely, I hope when this is all done she can have some form of social life.

About Thoma: Thoma’s as cool as he seems. He always has a level head, and solves problems smoothly and without issues.

About Yoimia: KABOOOM!

About Kokomi: One time I was doing an interview of her excellency, to boost morale and draw new members. I intended on asking for her autograph, only for her to ask for mine! I’ve been riding that high for a while now and still ain’t come down.

About Signora: I hate fatui, but without that she has some good qualities: most of her power is her own unlike most other harbingers, and she’s a sharp dresser. Plus she’s actually justified in her choice to join the fatui, not excused, but isolation can justify many crimes in my book. But no matter what I can’t forgive her. She attacked my friend without a chance for him to fight back, and was unfairly cruel. Nothing can justify that, and I will not forgive her as long as she remains unapologetic for her cowardly cruelty.

About Childe: Fatui are scum, but Childe’s probably the best of them: he personally tries to keep civilians and the weak out of fatui business, and he’s only in it to make sure his family lives well. He also is powerful on his own, but most of his strength is the Tsaritsa’s well deserved gifts. Still though, he’s just a single stressful day from losing all his morals. I can’t leave the fate of my homeland to a madman like him, not unless he gets therapy.

About Scaramouche: Scaramouche...that bastard, it’s been five years and he still owes me 30,061 mora.

About the Fatui: The fatui are really just people who are lost or genuinely believe they’re in the right, and while I can sympathize and respect many of them I can't agree nor can I just stand by and watch. The grunts usually aren’t that bad, honestly they’re more like underpaid graduates new to the workforce, but the fighters you see daily? Almost all of them are scum no better than raiders, and debt collectors are the worst of them because they’ll do anything they can to scam you out of everything in their contracts.

About us-commissions: You know, if you’d like to commission a biography it’s 100 mora per ten pages.

About us-inspiration: You’re a font of inspiration for me, ya know that?

About us-fellow rebels: I’ve been with ya enough to know that this path you’re on, the one to find your sis/bro, you’re fighting against something far beyond my ability to deal with. I won’t abandon you, I’ll be here every step of the way.

About us-friends: We’ve been through a lot pal, I’m glad to call you my friend. Please, call me my rebel name: it’s Belgrade, named after the city where some very brave men took their last stand against oppression.

Hobbies: Well you have reading and writing, otherwise? Can't think of anything.

Favorite food: Grilled tiger fish, come get it while it’s hot!

Least favorite food: I really wanna try it, but I can’t have almond tofu. Or any nuts. Closes my throat right up.

Something to share: Hehe, I got embarrassing dirt on all the harbingers. Signora? She has a Tsaritsa body pillow. Scaramouche? He knits sweaters for his pet pig, cute but he hates letting people know. And Childe? Hoo man, the pics I’ve got on him have put a pretty mora on my head.

About me: Hey have you seen my dice? I wanted to teach the mondstadt kids how to play them...hm? What?! No, not gambling! It’s, uh, a tad embarrassing...h-hey look! Literally anything else, let's pay attention to it!

About me II: Alright! These rolls are great, can’t wait to use them next game. I’m so proud of Fischl, so young yet so imaginative. She’s already-ah! T-traveler! What are you doing?..

You know I’m the one meant to be learning the secrets here.

About me III: Back in Snezhnaya, everyone looks down on things that don’t “conform” where even the most rigid of nations like Inazuma have stopped caring. Adults can't play games, men can’t wear dresses, can’t even have a “weird” sense of humor. No laws against it, but being outcasted is...it’s not good…

About me IV: I wish I grew up in Mondstadt. The kids there are so free to be themselves, and the adults aren’t pressured to be nothing more than working hands. It’s not perfect, after all people are rude to Fischl and Benny for being “different”, but it’s better that’s for sure.

About me V: Hey traveler...this is...no it’s not embarrassing. You’re my friend and I have no reason to be embarrassed by wanting to enjoy time with you! Fischl’s going to run a pen and paper dice game, ever played one? It’s super fun, you get to be anything you want really, and it’s a great way to bond.

You will? Great! I’ll help you make a character!

Alexander’s troubles: It’s so hard to find publishers these days. Noone wants an actual plot, they just want twist after twist. What’s up with that?! Shock value is no substitute for characters you love living fulfilling lives.

Happy birthday: Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday you crazy bastard, happy birthday to you! Seriously pal, you put yourself in harm's way every day it seems, we literally met when you were fighting an actual god! Actually, know what? No danger all day! We’re wrapping ourselves in blankets and just relaxing!

Feelings about ascension-intro: woah, somethin’ feels different. I like it!

Feelings about ascension-building up: man, I’m feeling inspired all of a sudden! Hey traveller, give me a prompt!

Feelings about ascension-climax: HA! I don’t know what high I’m riding but I like it, I just finished writing a whole book series!

Feelings about ascension-conclusion: WOO! YEAH! ULRICH MIKAEL KEEPS WINNIN’!-I-I meant Alexand-ah forget it, I’m feelin’ too good to care!

OCs:

About Louis: That crazy inventor guy from Fontaine? I heard he got used by the fatui, damn shame that. Noone deserves to have their heart played with like that.

About Spritefather: You ever heard of Spritefather? I’ve only heard legends, but the fanmail I keep getting tells me that sometimes things are only legendary until someone writes them down.

About the Storytraveler: There’s this woman who travels from universe to universe to fix things, she’s in Teyvat right now. You should meet her, really nice person. But her powers are a bit weird, why does she transform like that? It takes so much time!

_____________________

Tagging: @love-psxlm, @storytravelled, @genshin-obsessed, @golden-wingseos

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin oc

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kilesplaysthings · 4 years

Text

Hondje’s Secret

Happy October! While brainstorming a fic for spiratualist-nerd!Arthur, I was browsing the ikevam tag and saw lots of love for Theo since his route is coming out. I then had the funniest idea for a fic with him which is in the halloween spirit! combine that with a film I watched today and here we are. so this is all y’all’s fault lol ;) I hope he’s not too ooc since I don’t know his character too well :D

There was something wrong with Hondje. Theo could sense it the moment Sebastian came in with the breakfast tray instead of Ana. She had been living with the horde of vampires for a good month now and they had all gotten used to seeing her every morning pushing the breakfast cart into the dining room, wearing that ridiculous smile that should have been illegal first thing in the morning.

It seems he wasn’t the only one to notice something amiss, as he heard his beloved brother Vincent worriedly ask after her, “Is Ana all right?”

Sebastian hesitated in pouring the coffee and glanced towards Comte St. Germain, who lowered his newspaper at the question. It was almost, Theo noticed, as if Sebastian was seeking the answer from the head of the mansion instead of answering himself. Most suspicious…

“She told us she was unwell, so we thought it necessary to excuse her this morning. She did say, however, that she will be better by this afternoon so there’s no need for alarm,” he answered.

Vincent looked relieved as did many of the others seated at the table.

“I wonder if it’s ‘that time of the month’ for her?” Arthur guessed. He had that annoying self-satisfied smirk on his face he usually had when he knew – or thought he knew – he had guessed something about a woman correctly. “I wouldn’t be surprised if that was it, the poor little bird.”

“’That time of the month’?” Isaac queried, brow furrowed in confusion. “Does something happen to Ana every month?”

“Oh yes. It’s something most every lady goes through, and it can be quite irritating for them, to say the least. Why, as I recall, one time—”

“Oh do shut up,” Mozart muttered, buttering his toast rather loudly. “We don’t need that kind of conversation at breakfast.”

“Mozart is right,” the Comte spoke up. “I wouldn’t want to pry in Ana’s affairs, whatever they may be, Arthur.” He gave the writer a pointed stare. It made Theo smirk.

Arthur Conan Doyle merely chuckled and raised in hands up in surrender. “All right, all right. I’ll stop there. In all seriousness, though, I do hope she isn’t very ill. Perhaps I should go cheer her up later?” He beamed a rather toothy grin.

“No need. I’ve made sure Ana is comfortable,” Sebastian said quickly. He continued to pour out coffee.

“I’m glad. It would be sad not seeing her at breakfast anymore,” Vincent spoke up sadly, moving every heart that was in the room.

Theo patted his shoulder. “I’m sure she’ll be all right, Broer,” he said soothingly. Of course, they were all worried, even those like Mozart and Isaac – while not voicing their concerns – let it show on their faces.

Let it not be said that Theo wasn’t worried as well, but he figured if Sebastian and the Comte were looking after her, she was in good hands. There wasn’t much else for him to do besides hope she would feel better and continue his day as planned.

After breakfast, once he had his things ready and another painting by his brother packed for travel, he prepared to set out to the city for another art dealership. Vincent was a genius as usual, and he had no doubt that this new piece would sell quickly. He smiled down at King, his retriever who liked to follow him where ever he went. It was nice having a cute companion traveling with him into the city and he knew the dog enjoyed the long walks and treats that would be sure to follow once the painting was sold.

As the two of them approached the foyer of the mansion, King suddenly let out an excited yip and bounded for the front parlor.

“King! You foolish mutt!” He muttered irritably. He set his things down before going to retrieve his dog. Opening the door, he found the dog happily nuzzling none other than Ana, who was petting him amidst her daily routine of dusting.

“Oi! Hondje!” He called out, trying to ignore the relief that he felt at seeing her up and about.

She glanced up at him and offered a somewhat wan smile.

“Hey there, Theo.”

He frowned a little as he walked up to her. Something seemed… off.

“Heard you were under the weather this morning. You feeling any better?”

“Oh. I’m fine,” she answered quietly. Her hands massaged the dog’s floppy ears. “It’s nothing to worry about.”

He narrowed his eyes and studied her for a moment. For someone who said they were fine, she didn’t look it. Her skin was pale and clammy. Her hair was a bit disheveled and she looked tired.

“Well, don’t push yourself too much,” he finally said. “No one would want you collapsing or anything.”

Her smile was now more like how she usually smiled at him. She nodded. “I won’t. Thank you for your concern,” she said warmly.

“Concern.” He scoffed. “You really are a naïve pup, aren’t you?”

Now she was frowning. “I wish you would stop calling me that. Do you know how obnoxious it is?” She muttered angrily, quickly standing up and walking back towards the fireplace, away from him.

“I need to get back to cleaning. Good luck with work today,” she continued shortly, implying that her talk with him was over.

That time of the month. Weren’t a lot of women irritable during that time? Theo wondered. He shook his head, trying not to let Arthur’s suppositions influence him.

“Well, if you’re able to bark at me like that, it seems you’re feeling better. That’s good.” He called for King to follow him and turned to leave. “See you later, Hondje.”

He didn’t hear her very well, but he could faintly catch her soft reply of “See you later, Theo.”

He couldn’t help the small smile on his face as he left. Her behavior concerned him a little; she didn’t seem to be as well as she said she was, but he hoped it was just a one-time fluke. Hopefully they would all see her in the morning.

The next few days, however, were the same. Ana never appeared at breakfast and in the afternoon when she did show up, seemed listless and irritated. Arthur still maintained that it was due to “feminine issues,” and it was hard to argue against him. Who were they to say otherwise, after all? Not to mention, none of them felt brave enough to ask her face to face.

“She exhibits all the signs, and I’m sure she knows it. Tired, achy, moody, wanting to be alone. It’s best that we all just let her be. It’ll be over in a few days’ time,” Arthur would tell them.

They tried to remember that and treated her with the utmost kindness. Being a group of gentleman, vampires notwithstanding, they were always ready to help her if she needed it.

“Do you want to go lie down, Ana?” Napoleon asked one day as a few of them were gathered in the den. She had been delivering tea and had spilled it all over the table after trying to pour some with shaky hands.

“I’m fine,” she muttered as she mopped up the mess.

“I can clean it up so you can rest,” Napoleon urged. He offered to take the towel from her but she jerked it away.

“No, it’s all right,” she quickly argued.

“If you’re tired, you’re tired,” Theo remarked as he moved a chess piece. He and Arthur had once again challenged each other to another game. “Rambunctious pups shouldn’t deny being tired when they are.”

“I said I’m fine.” Was her harsh reply. Napoleon stared at her and Arthur stopped his move, piece mid-air right as he was about to put it on the board. His little spaniel Victoria raised his head and uttered a low growl.

“Let her be, you two,” Arthur finally said, breaking the tension that suddenly filled the room. His voice calmed down Vick as well and the dog laid his head back down on the sofa.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, looking sad. “I didn’t mean to lash out.”

“Don’t pay them any mind, Ana,” Arthur said soothingly. “But honestly, don’t feel like you have to push yourself especially while on your monthly.”

Theo rolled his eyes so hard, he could have sworn he saw the back of his head. Arthur may have been trying to appear understanding, but he just came off as patronizing. It was plain to see Ana didn’t appreciate his remark either. She shot him a look that demonstrated she was far from amused or appreciative.

“Wow thank you for that,” she muttered. She slapped the towel down on the table and headed for the door. “I’m leaving.”

“You’re such an idiot.” Theo stated once the door was closed.

“Oh she’s fine.” Arthur waved his words away. “It will take a lot more than mere sarcasm to ruffle my feathers.”

“Something seems wrong, though,” Napoleon said thoughtfully. “Ana’s different and I don’t think it’s due to a mere menstrual cycle.”

Napoleon may have been correct, Theo thought, when he found her curled up in a ball on the library sofa the next day. He had been looking for King and found that both he and Vick were there lying with her. It was almost like they could sense what was troubling her. Every time she quietly groaned in pain, they would emit a soft whine.

“Ana?” He called her by her actual name, which caused her to stare up at him with bleary eyes.

“Oh. Theo. It’s you.” Her hair fell down around her face in unkempt waves. “Sorry. I’m not myself today.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” He shooed the two dogs away and sat on the edge of the sofa. “Let’s get you back to your room. Can you walk?”

She slowly nodded. “Probably.”

He gently grasped her arm and helped her to sit up. Then, slipping his arm around her thin waist, he helped her stand. She flinched a little, but didn’t say anything to oppose him. Instead, she clutched the back of his vest with an iron grip. They made their way out of the library and down the hall towards her room. She tried not to stumble, but she was quite weak and he had to catch her a couple of times so she wouldn’t fall.

“Seriously, what is wrong with you?” He muttered as they neared her room.

“Excuse me?” She gave him a look.

“You heard me. We all thought Arthur was right; that this was just what a human woman goes through every month. And don’t look at me like that, most of us have all been married before. We know what you go through. But that’s not it, is it? I would have smelled it otherwise. So what is it?”

He knew he was coming off as blunt, but he truly was concerned. Ana didn’t take it well, however.

“Whatever it is, it has nothing to with you!” She snapped. “I said I would be fine in a few days, and I meant it. So just leave me alone until then!”

She shrugged off his arm and staggered into her bedroom, shutting the door in his face.

Theo huffed. “We can’t help but worry about you when you act like that, you mongrel,” he muttered. He stalked down the hall to his room, jamming his hands into his pockets, now in a rather foul mood.

It only took one more day for Theo to have all his questions and concerns answered.

The moon was full and bright that night as both he and Arthur came home from a late night trip to the bar. Arthur was quite plastered at this point while Theo was as sober as could be. So, of course, it was up to him to get his reckless friend home. They staggered into the mansion, Arthur unabashedly singing a jaunty tune. It took all of Theo’s self-control not to just dump him on the mansion floor and leave him there for Sebastian to find him in the morning.

“I swear, you owe me big time,” he groused out as he deposited the drunk Scotsman on his bed.

“Yeah yeah. I’ll be sure to make it up to all three of you in the morning.” Arthur drawled out. A minute later, he was snoring away.

“Domkop,” he muttered. “I have no idea why I choose to be this guy’s friend.” Even so, he couldn’t help but smile. Why he was fond of this womanizing, arrogant writer, he’d never know. The fact that Arthur had quite the charisma and contagious charm to him may have been a part of it, but Theo refused to acknowledge that.

Now beginning to feel tired himself, he made his way to his room, looking forward to a good night’s rest.

That’s when he heard it: the sound of shattering glass followed by a banging on one of the nearby doors. There was then a cringe-worthy scraping sound of wood. It made a chill go down his spine. He walked slowly towards the sounds at first, but his pace quickened when he began to hear low groaning.

The source of the noises all came from one room. Ana’s room. Why was she awake? It was late: half past two. And he knew she was not a late night person. He placed his hand on the door and leaned close to listen. The groans grew louder and he thought he heard a low growl. Suddenly, there came the sound of fabric tearing and the groanings turned into cries. Not cries of pleasure. Cries of agony.

“Ana? Ana!” He rammed his hand on the door.

The cries continued, not heeding him.

“I’m coming in!” He announced.

“Don’t!” Came a tormented voice. It was a lower voice, but somehow, it was still hers. “Just go away!”

“Oh shut up! If you’re in trouble, you shouldn’t be alone!” He shouted. “I’m coming in!”

With his vampiric strength, he knocked in the door in record time. What he beheld inside left him shocked. The room was a mess. A shattered pitcher and basin lay all over the floor in pieces. The bed sheets were in tatters. Clothes were shredded. There were what he could only figure to be claw marks all over the furniture and walls. And there was blood. So much blood. The moonlight streaming in between the tattered curtains shone down on a figure writhing under a bedsheet. A long thick chain was tied to the bed post and seemed to be connected to that covered figure that was still groaning in pain.

After taking it all in, he slowly approached the sheet and carefully lifted it. His eyes widened in shock.

“Ana…” He breathed her name. “You’re…”

“I told you not to come in!” Her altered voice wailed, or more distinctly, howled.

What were unmistakably Ana’s green eyes stared up at him in horror, but her face. It was no longer the face of a human woman. The snout was too long. The ears pointed and on top of her head. And she was covered in a thick fur the same color as her hair. She was huddled up in a ball and her claws clutched at the rug below her. A bushy tail curled around her body defensively.

“Wolf.. werewolf…” He muttered, aghast. “They’re real…”

“Oh shut up!” She cried, exposing an impressive set of canines. “Vampires are real, so why not werewolves, huh?”

He blinked. “Yeah, good point.”

“I told you not to come in here! Why couldn’t you have just listened?”

“What was I supposed to do?” He argued back. “You sounded like you were in immense pain! And it looks like you were, at that!”

Her ears flattened and she lay her head down on the sheet, looking like a kicked dog.

“You could have just kept walking. This isn’t something to be worried about. This only happens every--”

“Every full moon, right? I’ve heard the legend.” He walked over and took a seat on the rug beside her.

“I take it the Comte and Sebastian know?”

“Yes. I had to tell them if I was to leave here peacefully. They took it rather well, for vampires.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asked, frowning.

She scoffed. “Vampires always look down on werewolves. They see us as lower creatures that can’t ever control their urges.”

“Well you don’t really help your case by having that attached to you.” He nodded at the chain tied to the bedpost.

“It’s for precaution!” She retorted. “I can usually handle myself quite well! I’m still young, so sometimes I do have trouble keeping control. But I’m still training myself.”

She stood up on all fours and approached him, the chain jangling behind her.

“For instance, a lesser werebeast would want to tear all of you apart just by looking at you, but I don’t. I’d rather not eat vampire, if I can help it.” She sat down on her haunches and stared at him reproachfully.

He rolled his eyes at her. “Well I’m glad I’m not edible, I guess. It’s good to know you’re so well-trained.”

She snarled at him. “You think you’re funny, don’t you?”

“I think so, yes.” He then smirked. “So, you won’t attack even if I do this?”

He put his hand on her head between her ears and ruffled her fur. It was surprisingly just as soft as her normal hair.

“Want me to bite that hand off?” She growled.

“I’d like to see you try! Looks like my “pet” names for you were quite accurate, huh? No wonder they annoyed you!” He began to laugh.

“If you’re going to just mock me then leave before I tear out your throat!”

“Now, now, that’s my job.” His voice lowered and he grinned at her. “You know, you’re rather cute, for a werewolf.”

He could see her hackles rising. “I mean it, Theo! I don’t need any teasing from you!”

“Oh, but I’m not teasing. I’m in complete earnest. Now, let’s do something about this mess you’ve made.” He got up and headed to the door.

Ana growled a little. He was acting so smug, it was annoying.

“Are you going to tell the others?” She demanded to know.

He paused, his hand on the doorknob, and turned to smile at her.

“Now why would I do that? I rather like having this secret with you. Granted, the Comte and Sebastian know as well, but they probably haven’t seen you like this, have they?”

Ana’s silence was the confirmation he needed. He grinned more.

“I’ll make sure to take care of you every full moon, Hondje. It will be like you’re my very own pet.”

She bared her teeth at him angrily. “Don’t do me any favors!”

“It’s no trouble, really.” He continued to beam a great smile at her. It made her fur stand on end.

“Now, be a good girl and stay put. I’ll be right back with a broom to clean up this glass, all right?”

And with that, he was gone, leaving Ana to bemoan her fate even further. Theo, on the other hand, was strangely satisfied with this new revelation. He was quite gleeful, actually.

A werewolf. How extraordinary! Of course the others would be shocked to see her like that, but I rather like her like this too. Heh. I have always been fond of any kind of canine. How different is a werewolf?

As he went his merry way, Ana buried her furry head under the sheets again. Why? Of all people to see her like this, why did it have to be Theodorus Van Gogh?! She let out a low whine, knowing that from here on out, he would make things – quite interesting for her to say the least. Or perhaps, nightmarish was the better adjective, she decided.

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikevam #ikevam fanfic #ikevam theo #i hope this is ok lol #writings

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bubonickitten · 4 years

Link

Summary: Jon goes back to before the world ended and tries to forge a different path.

Previous chapter: AO3 // tumblr

Chapter 13 full text & content warnings below the cut.

CWs for Chapter 13: all the usual Buried-related warnings apply (claustrophobia, inability to breathe, etc.); panic/anxiety symptoms; just a smidgen of internalized aphobia; brief mention of past passive suicidal ideation; internalized victim blaming; canon-typical trauma (including discussion of victims targeted by the Fears as children).SPOILERS through S5.

Chapter 13: Center

The darkness and overwhelming pressure of the Buried make it nigh impossible to orient oneself. The only conceivable directions are forward, down, into, deeper. Jon’s only choice, when he has one at all, is to keep moving – and so he does, digging and clawing his way through the muck, making a transient pathway for himself as best he can.

“Daisy?” It comes out as a rasp. He tries to swallow, but succeeds only in upsetting his already-sore throat. It feels as though the dirt and debris have taken up permanent residence there, clogging his airway just enough to leave him chronically short of breath without cutting off his oxygen supply entirely. “Daisy, can you reach me?”

“Jon,” comes the weak reply, “I’m – I don’t know where – I c-can’t – can’t see –”

“I hear you,” Jon says. “I’m here, I’m coming to you. Just – keep talking, and –”

As he talks, he inhales a cloud of dust, dissolving into wracking coughs.

“Jon? Jon, are you still there?” For a long moment, Jon cannot speak. Daisy’s next words are steeped in panic. “Where are you? I can’t… p-please be there, please –”

“I’m still here,” Jon forces out hoarsely, stretching his arm forward as far as it will go. “I’m not going anywhere. Follow my voice, I – I think I’m almost –”

Chill fingertips brush against his, and he throws his weight forward as much as possible. He hooks her fingers in his and pulls, and with a burst of energy he manages to clasp her clammy hand in his.

“There you are,” he says, smiling weakly.

“You’re real,” Daisy says in disbelief, crushing his hand in a bruising grip. “You’re real.”

“I am.” He intertwines their fingers, as grateful as she is for a hand to hold. “I’m here, Daisy.”

“Daisy,” she says dreamily. “Yeah. Daisy. That’s me.” A pause. “Just – just me.”

Jon closes his eyes with a relieved sigh. There are no signs that the Hunt still has its claws in her. He had no reason to think that reaching her a couple weeks earlier than before would change anything, but there was still that nagging doubt.

“J-just me,” she says again, but this time there’s a waver in her voice. “Just – alone –”

“No,” Jon says hurriedly, squeezing her hand several times in quick succession, “not – not alone. Not anymore.”

“Yeah.” She grasps his hand even more tightly, as if to reassure herself.

“I’m here.”

“Yeah,” she says again, and this time it sounds like she’s starting to believe it.

“How – how are you?” Jon cringes. It’s as stupid a question now as it was the last time. Moreso, seeing as he’s already heard the answer. “S-sorry. That’s – probably obvious.”

Daisy answers anyway, likely glad of the chance to talk to someone else after so long in isolation.

“I – I can’t move, can’t breathe, can’t…” She trails off, hesitating. “But it’s… it’s quiet here? I can’t…”

She seems to be struggling to find the words.

“You can’t feel the blood,” he supplies.

“Y-yeah. How did you…”

“I can’t feel the Eye, either. It’s… it’s just me. All me.”

“Where are we?”

“In the Coffin. The Buried. It’s… the powers don’t have much sway within one another’s domains. The Hunt, the Eye – they can’t reach us here.”

“The Hunt,” she echoes.

“Yes. You’re a Hunter.”

“I… I guess I was. But – not here.”

No, not here. But once they leave here…

Stop, he tells himself. One thing at a time. Escape the Buried, then worry about the Hunt.

“Come on.” He tugs on her hand. “Let’s get you out of here.”

“Can’t – can’t move, and – and even if I could, there’s no way out –”

“No, I – I can get us out. I have a plan.”

“Is this like all your other plans?”

Jon chuckles, but it comes out as a wheeze.

“Yes and no. But – but don’t worry, it’s – I can do this. I just – need to – to find it.”

But when he closes his eyes and concentrates, there’s… nothing there.

“Come on,” he says under his breath, keeping his voice deliberately calm. “Come on, where are you?”

There’s nothing there. Why is there nothing there?

“Just need to… need to focus. Just – focus, think of…”

Think of Martin. Martin is your anchor. Clever, brave, loyal, compassionate Martin.

He was kind to you even when you didn’t deserve it; he cared for you even though you did everything you could to push him away. He reached out to you through the Lonely when you were at your most monstrous to remind you of the humanity you’d thought you lost. He made you want to do better, to be the person that he saw when he looked at you.

You followed him into the Lonely because you love him and because he deserved to know it. You need to return to him now, because this version of him doesn’t yet know that he is loved. If you don’t get back to him, if you don’t reach out to him – he’ll get lost, and he –

Jon’s breath hitches. The fear is starting to move in as inexorably as the earth surrounding them, settling cold and heavy in his gut.

Stop that, he tells himself. Just think about Martin, not the worst case scenario.

Everyone underestimates him, because he spent his entire life striving for the perfect balance between useful and unobtrusive. But he’s not helpless; he’s not a pushover. He took master manipulator Jonah Magnus by surprise; he fooled Peter Lukas for months. Sometimes, you think that Martin Blackwood could outmaneuver the Web if he cared to. If anyone could, it would be him. You don’t think you’ll ever fully forgive yourself for taking so long to notice.

No, Jon tells himself once more, recognizing the warning signs of a guilt spiral. That won’t help. Redirect.

In those early days after the ritual, you briefly defaulted to your old habits, withdrawing and shutting him out. He stood up to your brooding, gave your self-loathing no refuge in which to thrive, because he saw right through your sharp tongue to the vulnerable parts of you that it was meant to hide.

He is intuitive, stubborn, and patient in the best of ways.

You have a tendency to stare. You always have; you typically don’t notice you’re doing it. After you became the Archivist, it went from being an awkward habit to evidence of your inhumanity: all eyes, always watching, always demanding more, more, more until every secret is exposed and any semblance of privacy has been demolished.

But it was never just the Eye urging you to record things. You know from experience that nothing lasts forever, that anyone and anything can disappear without a moment’s notice – sometimes leaving no trace, no memory that they ever existed. It only makes sense that you would develop a compulsion to document everything for posterity. The tape recorders were only the most recent manifestation of that preexisting obsession. Before that, you made lists, you took pictures, you wrote on your hands – and, of course, you stared.

During your first few days together at the safehouse, Martin called attention to the staring. You were mortified, launched into a rambling apology – but he shut it down, reassured you that he was only teasing, that he didn’t mind it, that it was… endearing, in a way. And once you were given permission, you began to consciously catalog every little detail.

He has thirty-six freckles on his face, seventeen on his hands, and constellations of them besides: on his back, on his shoulders, on his arms, on his belly. He blushes easily, and you love it, because you’ve never been good at reading body language, and you can always use a hint. His hair is soft, and the way he leans into it when you run your fingers through it – you think he would purr if he could. You were hesitant, at first, to spend too long looking at his eyes – but unlike most people, he showed no signs that he found eye contact with you unsettling.

You gave him permission to stare, too. And he did. He never shied away from your scars. He liked looking at you – and you knew he was genuine when he said so, even though you didn’t understand it.

Martin is self-conscious about his size, painfully aware of how others see him. He rarely stands to his full height, tending to curl his shoulders in, maintain a curve to his spine, keep his arms pulled tight to his body: anything to avoid towering over others, anything to take up as little space as possible. He saw his stretch marks as flaws to be tolerated; spent most of his life assuming that his weight and soft edges made him unattractive.

There are so many things he hates about himself. It broke your heart a little, to see how difficult it was for him to believe that you like looking at him, that your boundaries regarding physical intimacy weren’t a comment on his desirability. (Though he never voiced that last concern, never wanted his own insecurities to make you feel self-conscious about that part of you. Never made you feel guilty or lacking or… or broken.)

You regularly stole his jumpers; the first time you did it, he went speechless and flustered at the casual domesticity of it all. You took turns ambushing one another with affirmations and small acts of affection like that. It became something of a challenge, a game: springing a pet name on one another here, placing a soft kiss on a hand there, delighting in the reactions it got. It’s strange how easily you settled into that routine, how natural it felt to let down your guard.

At night, he would curl around you like he belonged there, like there was no place he’d rather be – and it made you feel like you belong, too. The first time he held you in his arms, you realized that you’d never truly known what it was to feel safe until that moment – and isn’t that its own special kind of vulnerability, isn’t it such a cliché? You still had nightmares, still jolted awake several times throughout the night frantic and disoriented – as did he – but it felt so much more endurable with someone to coax you back to reality.

When you first led him out of the Lonely, it was still clinging to him. He couldn’t understand what you saw in him, any more than you could understand what he saw in you. You made it your mission to make him understand. And eventually, he did. It wasn’t the first time you told him you loved him, but one morning when you said it, he looked at you and his lips parted ever so slightly, and you could practically see the epiphany dawn in his eyes, and he whispered that he believed you.

You still haven’t found a word that accurately describes what you felt then. You kissed him, and hoped that it would say what words could not.

You never gave up on each other, even when you’d given up on your own selves. He never stopped caring for you, even when you were at your most fearsome and fearful. Despite everything, you communicated, you compromised, you comforted one another. You never stopped loving one another.

You lost him once before. You cannot lose him again. You need to find him. Why – why can’t you find him? Why can’t you feel him?

Jon feels his breath quickening, terror needling at the edges of his mind. He jumps slightly when Daisy speaks.

“Jon?”

“It’s – it’s okay,” he says, his voice shaky. “I’ve – I’ve done this once before. I can do this.”

There’s no rule saying he can only have one anchor, right?

He thinks of Georgie.

She took you in when you had nowhere else to go, even though you hadn’t spoken in years, even though you hadn’t parted on the best of terms. Staying with her felt more like home than you’d experienced in… you don’t know how long. It made you realize how much you missed her – her humor, her ingenuity, her confidence, her tenacity, her generosity, and, yes, even her perceptiveness, daunting though it may be at times. She speaks her mind and you can take her at her word. You can appreciate that, as someone who has always had trouble parsing the implicit and unspoken aspects of social life.

You trust her judgment, and she believes in you, and it makes you want to believe in yourself. You want to be there for her in the same way that she’s chosen to be there for you.

He thinks of Melanie.

You disliked one another at first meeting, even though – or perhaps because – you have so much in common. Over the years, you saw more sides to her. She’s brave and resolute, not just when it comes to fighting back, but when it comes to making the conscious decision to heal. She’s capable of kindness to those who are receptive to it. You’ve seen how she is with Georgie, how her hard edges relax, how her devotion is as fierce as her anger can be – perhaps moreso.

You know that she never deserved to suffer like she has. You know she deserves a happy ending. You want to try to reconcile with her. In your future, she went so far as to suggest that you could be friends. You think you would like that.

He thinks of Basira.

She’s had no one but herself to rely on for months. She feels trapped and alone; she hasn’t had a moment to grieve; she’s forced herself to compartmentalize and detach because if she breaks down, she doesn’t know if she’ll be able to put herself back together again. She’s told herself that her own comfort and wellbeing don’t matter. She has a job to do and she’s the only one left who is willing and able to do it. The only solid thing left in her life, the only thing giving her purpose is the mission. The mission is her anchor, because she’s lost everything else.

When she found out that Daisy was alive, she was almost angry with you for making her dare to hope. You promised that you would bring Daisy home to her, and you mean to keep that promise.

And Jon has a job to do, too, doesn’t he?

You need to stop Jonah Magnus, you need to –

His stomach clenches as the dread grips him.

Okay, no. Don’t – don’t think of Jonah. Not helpful, not helpful, not –

He reaches further. He tries to think of Naomi, of the Admiral, of –

The faraway rumbling starts up again.

“Jon,” Daisy says again, urgently, perched on the edge of panic right along with him.

This is forever deep below creation, some self-sabotaging part of his brain reminds him. Where the weight of existence bears down. This is the Buried, and we are alive. There isn’t even an up –

“I just – I just – I just need to calm down,” he stammers. He can feel his pulse beating in his throat; would be hyperventilating if he could breathe at all. “I – I can’t think straight, and I just need to…”

He thinks back to the physical details of the world just outside the Coffin.

The arrangement of the tapes –

…CASE #0160919 sits 34.2 centimeters west of the Coffin, turned at a 45-degree angle. Approximately 20.6 centimeters south-southwest is CASE #0172904; the casing of its recorder is slightly cracked at the lower left corner. 2.4 centimeters to its right is CASE #0171302; the rewind button on the recorder housing it tends to stick…

– on the floor of his office –

…where fingernail scratches are still visible in the northwest corner of the room, left there by Enrique MacMillan on 4 November, 2003, after he gave his statement regarding his encounter with a Buried-touched Leitner…

– and the tape he left on his desk –

…on top of a softcover Moleskine notebook – black, 12.7 by 21 centimeters, ruled – belonging to Martin Blackwood; the Archivist knows every word written thus far on the 68 used out of 192 total pages within…

– and on that tape are pleas that went unanswered for far too long, laced with desperation and grief and rapidly dwindling hope –

…We really need you, Jon. We – I need you …

– but Jon cannot hear it anymore.

His mind wanders to the single folded sheet of paper tucked away in the top drawer of his desk. A second message for Martin, to be read only in the event that Jon doesn’t return. A transcript, to be precise.

On their way to the Panopticon, they had been separated when they traversed the Lonely’s domain. Jon had searched frantically, resisting the urge to simply Know because he had promised. As much as he wanted to, he didn’t feel right forcing Martin to See him the way he did before. It was Martin’s domain, and he had the right to decide for himself whether to leave it behind. Even if Jon had wanted to, though, he suspected that he wouldn’t have been able to actually find Martin this time unless he wanted to be found. And in the end, he did.

Just before Jon found him, he managed to catch the tail end of Martin’s statement. Naturally, the Archive memorized every word and dutifully filed it away without any conscious effort or consent on Jon’s part.

…I am Martin Blackwood, and I am not Lonely anymore; I am not Lonely anymore. I want to have friends. I – no, I have friends. I’m in love. I am in love, and I will not forget that; I will not forget…

Before he entered the Coffin, Jon copied it down and left it behind. Just in case. Just in case something goes wrong. If he goes missing in action for too long, he trusts that eventually someone will clear out his desk, find it, and hopefully pass it along to its intended recipient.

It was a last-ditch effort to impart the truth: that a future exists wherein Martin isn’t Lonely; that he can be and is and deserves to be cared for; that it isn’t just an unattainable fantasy. And, most importantly, Jon is not the only one who can provide that, nor is Jon alone enough to fulfill that need. In the end, Martin chose to turn his back on the Lonely. He can do it again.

There’s every chance that it was a meaningless gesture, but Jon doesn’t think he could live with himself if he didn’t at least try – and if he does get lost down here, he’ll be forced to live with himself for as long as the Buried itself exists.

But Jon doesn’t want to leave Martin alone with that inexplicable scrap of statement, hoping that it’s enough to get the point across. Jon has to get home. He has to; there’s no other choice –

“Jon?” Daisy says again. “You sound like you’re… what – what’s wrong?”

“Sorry, I’m – I’m just… I can’t – I can’t feel my anchor.”

“Anchor?”

“Y-yeah. Something to ground me, help me feel the way out. It’s – there’s a void where it should be, and…” His short exhale shudders on the way out. “I think – I think we might be here for awhile longer.”

“N-not alone, though,” Daisy says, almost questioningly.

“No. No, not alone. And – and I can still get us out, I think,” he adds hurriedly. “I just – I need to… I need to come down from the panic, and it’s hard to do that when I can’t – I can’t breathe –“

His breath catches and he closes his eyes. Stop, he tells himself, you’re – you’re spiraling, talking yourself into a panic. Just… listen – listen to the quiet.

“Jon?”

“Still – still here,” he says, squeezing her hand again. “I’m not going anywhere without you, I promise.”

“Do you – if you need a break from – from whatever you’re doing…” She falters for a moment before blurting out: “C-can we… can we talk? I haven’t – I just want someone to hear me.”

“Of course. I’m listening.” When Daisy doesn’t reply, he offers a gentle prompting. “Daisy?”

“I’m – it’s difficult. I can’t find the words.”

“Would it help if I… ask?” The last time, it did help her get her thoughts out.

“Y-yeah,” she says with only a slight delay. “Do your… thing.”

“Right,” he says. For a moment, he worries that he’ll have difficulty concentrating long enough to compel an answer, but his mind clears almost as soon as he opens his mouth. Of course. “How are you feeling?”

The question buzzes like static on his tongue on its way out.

“S-scared. I – I’m – I’m s-scared…”

Daisy’s words do not deviate from the last time he was here, but he does not interrupt her as she speaks. He latches onto her voice, focuses all of his attention on her story, and tries to ground himself in the present.

“Y-you know what I thought, when I woke up here? I thought this was hell. I – I was dead, and I was in hell. And I - I knew I deserved it.” Daisy stifles a sob as she nears the end of her statement. “I don’t want t-to b-be a s-sadistic predator again. I – I don’t want to hobble around like some – pathetic wounded prey here. I don’t know which would be worse. But I’m scared now – that I won’t ever get the choice.”

One thing I’ve learned, Daisy, is that we all get a choice, he told her last time. Even if it doesn’t feel like one.

Now, though, he’s not so sure. Or, rather, now he thinks it isn’t quite that simple.

“It’s… complicated,” Jon starts slowly. “Choice, I mean. We all have choices, but – but when all the alternatives are unendurable, or impossible to achieve, or – or even conceptualize, then… well, it’s not a fair choice, is it? Sometimes because that’s just – how it is, and sometimes by design. There – there are people, and – and things out there that will abuse their power to deceive you, keep you ignorant about things that would affect your decisions. Or – or convince you that you have no options, no autonomy – or even that you can’t trust your own judgment, your own senses. Some choices can hardly be called choices at all.”

He begins to grind his teeth as he considers his next words, but stops as soon as he feels the grit between his molars when he bites down. There are a lot of things to hate about the Buried, but its refusal to allow him to engage in any of his usual nervous habits definitely adds insult to injury.

“You say you deserve to be here, but – do you think you deserved to be marked by the Hunt in the first place? Because one thing I’ve learned is… most people who become Avatars – we don't necessarily do anything to deserve the attention of the things that take notice of us. To be put in these positions, to be given impossible choices about – about things we have no right to decide in the first place.”

“What do you mean?”

“It seems that a common thread is… well, um, I think Tim hit the nail on the head, actually? In his testament before the Unknowing, he – he said, ‘The only thing you need to have your life destroyed by this stuff is just bad luck. Talk to the wrong person, take the wrong train, open the wrong door, and that’s it.’”

“You remember that verbatim?”

“It’s – it’s an Archivist thing.” Well, technically. Jon can’t access the Archive right now, but some statements have looped so many times in his head that he has every word memorized by now. “But the point is that our transgressions, they… the punishment often doesn’t seem to fit the crime.”

Daisy is quiet, so Jon continues.

“Uh, Jane Prentiss, for instance – stumbled upon a wasps’ nest in her attic, and then the Corruption infested her. In her original statement, she was afraid of what was happening to her, she was asking for help, but it… it was slowly hollowing her out. Appealed to her insecurities, whispered to her that it was the only thing that could love her, that wouldn’t abandon her. Maybe eventually she embraced it on her own, but at that point, how much of her was left to make that choice?

“And – and Michael Crew. He was struck by lightning when he was eight. The Spiral never stopped stalking him after that. He spent his childhood in fear, obsessively sought out information about – lightning, and fractals, because understanding it felt like the only way to resist a thing that feeds on uncertainty.”

Jon can relate to that, can’t he? He was always curious, but his desire to know and understand things became more obsessive after he encountered his first monster – as if he could solve any problem if only he learned enough about it. But it was never enough, and that impulse never actually kept him safe. It only offered him a flimsy illusion of control, which was something he desperately needed after the Web showed him what it was like to have none. Still, an ineffective coping mechanism was better than not coping at all – or so he told himself then.

“When Mike realized that there was no escape from the supernatural once he’d been marked by it,” Jon continues, “he decided that the next best thing was choosing which Fear to submit to – to serve. Obsessively sought out Leitners until he found the Vast, and… it offered him safety. The most basic of human needs, something he hadn’t known since he was a child. The things he did to feed his patron were – indefensible, but I can’t help thinking about the person he might have been, if the Spiral hadn’t come into his life. He… he was only eight. How is a child supposed to process something that even an adult would have trouble coping with? I’m sure many children don’t even physically survive an encounter with one of the Fears, but even those that do… they never actually escape, do they?”

Daisy makes an indistinct little noise in her throat. Jon can’t Know for certain, but he imagines she’s thinking of her own first encounter with the Hunt. When enough time has passed that she doesn’t seem ready to say as much, Jon continues.

“And there’s – there’s Oliver Banks, he’s an Avatar of the End. He just started having dreams one day, became a death prophet. As far as I can tell, nothing provoked it. It just… happened. And early on, he tried to use that ability to help people, but… the powers granted us as Avatars, they aren’t for helping or saving anyone. When you realize that, after a long string of failures, you start to become… despondent – numb, even. Maybe some misstep along the way piqued the End’s interest in him, or maybe it was completely arbitrary. I don’t know. I don’t know that Oliver does, either.”

It’s difficult to speak at length here, and Jon’s speech is punctuated by frequent gasps and stops and starts, but he plows ahead. Granted, he’s always had a tendency toward intense, rapidfire speech whenever he gets invested in a topic of interest, but it’s also that he needs to cover as much ground as he can as quickly as possible. There’s no telling when the Buried will constrict again. Sometimes there are long intervals of relative peace; other times, the bouts of crushing pressure come one after the other in a barrage. The inconsistency makes the dread all the more potent: you can never predict when the walls will close in.

“And Helen,” he says, moving right along, “before she became the Distortion, she opened a door. That’s all. Most people would have probably done the same. A door that wasn’t there before, that can’t be there – of course the human mind wants to test its perceptions, make sense of the discrepancy. Which is exactly what the Distortion preys on. It let her escape its corridors, because it would make the fear that much more potent when it came for her again, when she realized that it had never actually let her go, that there was never any way to escape. It was… it was just playing with its food.”

Like with Benjamin Hatendi, Jon thinks. ‘The blanket never did anything.’

The Fears are never merciful. For an earthly predatory animal, the pain and fear of the prey are only relevant insofar as their utility in capturing it. Granted, the majority of animals may have no qualms about eating their prey alive so long as it’s incapacitated, no concept of putting their food out of its misery – but still, sustenance isn’t derived from the experience of the prey, only from its organic matter.

For the Powers, though… terror is the food source. If anything, the misery is deliberately drawn out. The suffering is primary to the meal.

“I still don’t know how much of Helen Richardson was left by the time she embraced her new existence and began feeding” – by the time she chose to stop feeling guilty, Jon notes privately – “but she never asked to be in that position to begin with. She just… opened a door.

“And you… all you did was trespass on a childhood dare, right? You and Calvin Benchley. I did hear the tape – of your interrogation with Elias. Maybe the Hunt chose the both of you, was deliberately waiting for you there. Or maybe you were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Either way, you… you did something that most children do at one point or another, exploring out bounds – I did plenty of that myself. And – and you’d done the same thing many times in the past, there was no reason to think that things would go any differently. But that time, that time you stumbled into something that most children – most people never do.”

Jon debates whether or not to share his own initiation into this world. He never told Daisy about it last time, but he knows – and Knows – about her childhood encounter. It seems only fair to include his own.

“Actually, I… I had a similar experience, when I was eight,” he admits, pushing through his habitual reservations. “Unlike Michael Crew, though, I was an active participant in my own fate. There’s no dodging a lightning strike, but me – I… I opened a book I shouldn’t have, knocked on a door I shouldn’t have. I could’ve just… not.”

“That’s a funny double standard,” Daisy says flatly.

“P-pardon?”

“Couldn’t you just as easily say that Crew could have chosen to not stand outside during a lightning storm?”

“He – he actually wanted to go inside, but his friend pressured him to keep playing,” Jon says, almost defensively. “By the time they decided to go in, it was too late.”

“Like I pressured Calvin.”

“That’s –” Jon gives an agitated little exhale. “It’s still different.”

“How?”

“Did you have a bad feeling about the dare, or was it just like any other day? You had no reason to think that things would go wrong. I… I knew that book was wrong, and I opened it anyway.” Daisy scoffs. “What?”

“Has anyone ever pointed out to you that you’re capable of some truly infuriating mental gymnastics?”

Jon puffs out another exasperated breath before muttering, “Yes.”

In fact, she said almost the exact same thing to him the last time around. And Georgie – she used to say so all the time, especially when they were dating.

“You always do this,” she’d pointed out once during an argument, hands on her hips and a shrewd look in her eye. “Any time a conversation gets a little too uncomfortable for you, you just – throw your hands up, say it’s your fault and shut down, and nothing ever gets resolved. Why are you so eager to take the blame for things? Is it that it’s better than admitting there are some things you can’t control, or is it just easier than actually talking about your feelings?”

The answer was yes on both counts, and he had been angry with her for putting it into words. He’d already known on some level, but he studiously avoided that sort of introspection. Now that it had been verbalized, the knowledge would always be there, floating around in his mind – yet another thing to overanalyze, to obsess over, to ambush him in moments of doubt.

Since then he’s gotten better at communicating in healthy ways, but the self-blame thing… well, Martin still had to periodically call him out on it, right up until the end. It became a common refrain: “It’s still victim blaming even if you’re the victim, Jon.” The reminder did help – at least some of the time – but it wasn’t enough to undo a worldview that he’d spent his entire life internalizing.

“Y-yes,” he says again, less sullenly now, “I – I see your point.”

“Good. So – evil book?”

“A Leitner, yes. The Web.” Jon has no desire to go into all the gruesome details, not when he’s – when they’re both already being suffocated by fear. “And I only escaped through… I don’t know, some combination of mundane human cruelty and luck – or… or someone else’s misfortune, more like.” He gives a tired sigh. “Or it could have been deliberate interference by the Web, taking someone else in my place because it had other plans for me. I’ll never know the exact reason why. If there even is a reason.”

He pauses, expecting the Beholding’s characteristic objection to the idea that he should accept not knowing anything, before remembering with grim satisfaction that the Eye can’t reach him here. Nor can the Web, for that matter. A small mercy, but he’ll take it.

“But the experience led to an obsession with the supernatural. I suppose I thought that if – if I could just understand it, I could conquer the fear. It didn’t work, but an obsession like that – it persists regardless of whether it’s successful or productive or – or healthy. Eventually it led me to the Institute. Which led me… here, ultimately.” He bites his lower lip as he considers his next words. “I’m sure many of my choices along the way were mine alone, and – and I’m responsible for my actions regardless. But that first domino… it was just a restless child ignoring gut instinct, all because he needed to know.”

“Jon,” Daisy says, the hint of a warning growl underlying her tone.

“I – okay, yes, I know, I know. Double standards.” He takes a shallow breath before continuing. “My point is, most of us are just… unlucky isn’t the right word, but it’s as close as I can get. Sometimes the Fears seem to seek out victims who are already uniquely susceptible to them – people with phobias, or specific traumas. Other times it seems… arbitrary. And sometimes it seems like the difference between an average victim and those who eventually become Avatars is… compatibility, or – or in some cases, a sense of kinship, even.

“I’ve always been too curious for my own good, a natural fit for the Beholding. Jane talked about being seen as toxic, and it was the Corruption that found her. Annabelle Cane said she was well-versed in manipulation as a young child, the sort of gift that the Web favors. Jared Hopworth always had a sadistic streak, but the difference between him and any other bully is that he found The Boneturner's Tale. I… don’t really know what to make of Jude Perry. The way she told it, she always had the disposition for the Desolation. She would likely have been a nightmare with or without supernatural help, but there are plenty of people like that in the world. She just happened to be one of the few who caught the attention of the Lightless Flame.

“But – but I also don’t think preexisting compatibility is a requirement to be an Avatar. Some people really do just – stumble into it, probably. Grow into it, maybe, after enough exposure. Especially if the same Power keeps coming back.”

Jon can’t help thinking of the Distortion and its tendency to dog its victims for years. Helen said once that she couldn’t just force her victims into her corridors, that they had to open the door on their own. But that was a lie, wasn’t it? Marcus MacKenzie refused to open the door every single time it appeared throughout his childhood and young adulthood. It started to take increasingly drastic measures: disguising itself as other things, at one point even opening up in the ground in front of him, hoping he wouldn’t notice until he already stepped over the ledge and gravity did its work. When that didn’t work, it took his father. And then, even after evading it for decades, Helen eventually took Marcus anyway. Choice didn’t come into it. It didn't matter how many times he walked away – it followed him wherever he went.

“Either way,” Jon continues, “whether it’s part of some grand plan or just happenstance, the Avatars… we catch the attention of something predatory, and it sinks its hooks into the vulnerabilities it finds. There are plenty of other people in the world who may have the same… flaws, or inclinations, or experiences, but most are lucky enough not to be drawn into this world. I’m not sure exactly what determines who is, but I don’t think it comes down to fairness, or deservedness, or – or some sort of cosmic punishment. I – I don’t think the universe works that way.

“And – and after we’ve been marked, maybe we can make choices along the way. But as far as I can tell, none of those choices ever lead to complete freedom from the Powers that lay claim to us. We’re still accountable for our actions; we can fight back, we can resist – but we’ll always be struggling against our natures. Sometimes it seems like there’s… there’s really no choice we can make where things actually turn out okay. Doesn’t mean we stop trying, or give up hope, but…” He pauses to gnaw on the inside of his cheek for a few seconds. “It can be hard to ignore the fear when it’s become such an intrinsic part of you, is all. When it makes its hunger your own, and hollows you out if you don’t feed it. It can make the concept of choice seem… empty.”

When he trails off, Daisy blows out a forceful exhale.

“That was… a lot.”

“Surprised the Buried let me get it all out,” Jon says, a bit sheepishly. “Sorry, I’ve… had a lot of time alone to ruminate.”

“I think I can rela-”

Daisy’s words are cut short when all at once the earth crashes down around them with a vengeance, as if exacting payment for the courtesy of staying its hand for so long. An indeterminate amount of time passes, weight pressing down on them from all sides, leaving no room for breath or words or thought. Jon focuses on their hands, still linked tightly together, the only anchor to be found here in the dark.

Eventually, the walls begin to withdraw in tiny increments. The sinister, sibilant shifting of soil is a constant, unknown variable – it sounds the same whether the earth is compacting or moving away, and often there is no way to tell until it’s already too close and pressing down. Jon can feel his pulse hammering in his throat, can hear Daisy’s gasping breaths overlapping his own.

“I was gonna kill you,” she blurts out eventually, breathless and rushed. “You know that?”

“Yes.”

“I – I don’t just mean that day in the woods,” she clarifies. “Af-after the mission, I was planning on killing you.”

“I know. You – you realized I wasn’t human. That I needed to die.”

“H-how did you –”

“I’ve been here once before. And – and I should apologize for the dreams, I –”

“Jon –”

“I know it’s not an excuse, but I never meant to compel you that time – didn’t even realize at the time that that was something I could do, and –”

“Jon –”

“I didn’t realize then that the dreams were real, and – and when I finally did, I still didn’t have any control over them, but I –”

“Jon! Shut up a minute.”

His mouth snaps shut a little too quickly and he winces as he bites down on the tip of his tongue. The metallic taste of blood just barely registers on his tongue in the few seconds it takes for the cut to heal.

“Just – back up,” Daisy says, toning down the intensity this time. “That thing you said about… you’ve ‘been here once before’? What is that supposed to mean?”

“It’s… a long story. And difficult to believe.”

“Well, it’s –” Daisy huffs. “It’s not like we don’t have the time?”

“I suppose,” Jon sighs. He’s already told this story to the tape recorder at length, but… the idea of telling it to another person, in his own words this time, feels both terrifying and cathartic at the same time. It’s just – difficult to talk about, no matter how many times he recaps it. “Where to begin… oh, I should probably preface this with ‘time travel is real.’”

Daisy sounds far too nonchalant when she says, “Okay.”

“O-okay? That’s… that’s it?”

“Sorry if it’s not the dramatic response you expected. Encounter enough – vampires, and people made of sawdust, and – and this, here, and… I don’t know that anything would surprise me anymore.”

“R-right,” Jon replies, still a bit incredulous. “Well, I’m – I’m from the future.” He pauses again, but she doesn’t interject. “And… and I came back to stop the apocalypse.”

His inflection pitches up into a near-question on the last word, certain that this will be the point at which Daisy calls bullshit. Instead, she just gives a dry chuckle.

“And how’s that going for you?”

“Well, uh, actually…” Jon’s laugh manages to sound slightly hysterical despite its brevity. “Being stuck here actually does – put it on hold indefinitely?”

“H-how’s that?”

“Because – because it can’t go forward without the Archivist.” He takes a shallow breath. “Just like the Stranger has the Unknowing, the Eye has its own Ritual. I was – I am a part of it. I – I didn’t want to, Elias – he orchestrated the whole thing, f-forced me to –” He nearly bites his tongue again when he cuts himself off. “But that – that doesn’t change anything,” he continues, almost viciously. “I’m the one who opened the door. It wouldn’t have happened if not for me, s-so it’s as good as my fault.”

“Don’t know about that,” Daisy says.

“What?”

“Don’t think I can see you making a choice to end the world, if you had any say. Doesn’t sound like you. You – Jon, you just went on about having choices taken away.” Jon is silent, teeth clenched; Daisy jostles his hand insistently. “So – so how’d it actually happen?”

“I, ah…” Why is this still so hard to talk about? “So you know how I – I… need the statements?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I – it – my appetite only got worse as time went on. Started craving live statements, and – and hunted for them. The others intervened eventually, and I stopped, but I still needed – need – statements, or else I’d… starve, for lack of a better word. So I made do with the old statements like before, but they were – less and less filling as time went on, and – and I needed more of them, and more frequently, even though I tried to – to spread them out, ration myself. And, uh, some things happened, and Martin and I went into hiding – used your safehouse, actually –”

“Which one?”

“Scotland.”

“Ah,” Daisy says softly. “I like that one.”

“So did we,” Jon says, smiling fondly. “I – we only had a couple weeks, before… b-but the time we did have, it was…”

He clears his throat.

“An-anyway, I went – hungry, for a bit, until a box of statements could be sent to us. And the first one I read, it was – a trap, by J- Elias.” He can explain about Jonah Magnus later. If he takes that detour now, he’ll never get through the rest of this. “The heading looked – just like any other statement. Statement giver’s name, date – but as soon as I started reading, it was Elias’ words. It was a, uh, statement about – about me. About what I am. I’m not just the Archivist, Daisy, I’m the Archive.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I – when I take or – or consume a statement, I, ah – experience it like I’m there, and it – it becomes a part of me. I’m like a – like a living record, a library of – of people’s worst fears, nightmares, moments that I have no right to witness, and – doesn’t matter. Elias needed a fully realized Archive for his ritual to work, so he – he created one, and he fed it a statement. And I – I tried to stop reading, but I couldn’t, even though I – I tried, I really did, I –” He laughs nervously. “Even tried to – to blind myself, but it just – healed. Then, at the end, there was an – an incantation. To open a door that could let all the Fears into the world. And when I read it… it did.”

“Wait – all of them?”

“Yes,” Jon says quietly. “Just before she died, Gertrude figured out that a ritual to bring one of the Fears into the world could never succeed on its own. The Powers can’t exist without minds to experience them, and our minds – they’re highly associative. The experience of fear is just… far more convoluted and subjective than any artificial taxonomy can capture. The Fears have overlap, and – and some of them are defined by their opposition to the others.

“A Vast ritual would collapse without the existence of the Buried, for instance. Or – the Stranger and the Spiral, they’re both tied to unreality, to not being able to trust your perceptions – which can feed into paranoia, which the Eye and the Web also thrive on. The Hunt and the Slaughter run together, and the Flesh can tag alongside. Both the Corruption and the Desolation are equally efficient and thorough in ravaging a home or a body or – or even the general concept of safety.

“Even here – we’re too far deep below creation for the Eye or the Hunt to reach us, but there’s still more than the Buried to fear. The Dark, for instance, or being Forsaken. Even the Vast can be found down here, if you start obsessing over your own insignificance in the grand scheme of the universe. The Powers are just – too interconnected, and their rituals never accounted for that.”

“So the Unknowing…”

“Would have failed even without our intervention,” Jon says bitterly. “Same goes for all of the rituals that Gertrude stopped, and all the others that have been sabotaged throughout the centuries. All of that sacrifice, and for nothing. Michael Shelley, and Jan Kilbride, and – and Tim, and you ending up here –”

“Tim?”

“He… he died during the mission,” Jon says quietly. He hears a sharp intake of breath from Daisy.

“And Basira?”

“Alive. She got out before the explosion.” He can just barely make out Daisy’s sigh of relief. “She… she told me to tell you that she’s waiting for you.”

“Oh,” Daisy says softly. “I’m s-”

Before she can say more, the Buried begins to writhe around them again, this time closing in molasses-slow. They both instinctively tighten their handhold on one another. As horrid as the crushing force is, this time it at least has the decency to press them closer together. Daisy’s free hand tentatively brushes against Jon’s free wrist. Understanding the unspoken request, Jon interlocks their fingers, and they wait.

“S-so,” Daisy wheezes when the earth finally relaxes and settles again, “about – about the rituals?”

“R-right.” Jon coughs lightly, still catching his breath. “Well, ah, Elias found out about Gertrude’s theory. Came up with a – ritual that would bring all the Powers through at once, but with the Eye ruling over the rest. It required an Archivist – Archive – directly marked by all the Powers. Elias – chose me. Made sure I’d encounter each of them, and… when I was ready, he laid one last trap and waited for me to wander in, because he knew from experience that I would.”

And it could happen again, Jon’s brain helpfully supplies.

“Huh.”

“Yeah. S-so it probably goes without saying, but if you thought I wasn’t human before, I, ah…” He gives an exhausted, humorless chuckle. “I’m definitely not now.”

Daisy is silent for a long moment before saying: “I take it you – you didn’t come here the first time.”

That wasn’t the comment that Jon had been expecting.

“No, I did.”

“Then… how –”

“I told you, there’s a way out. I just – I just have to find it. Last time I found you, and we escaped together. We can do it again.” She doesn’t respond to that, and he kneads the tops of her hands with his thumbs. “Daisy?”

“You’ve been here once before, and you escaped, and… and you came back?” She says it in such a small voice, it almost doesn’t even sound like her. “After – after seeing what it’s like, you still came back for me?”

“Yes…?”

“Why?” she whispers. “Why do that for me? I – I had a knife to your throat, I would’ve killed you if Basira hadn’t found us first, I saw the fear in your eyes and I enjoyed it – and you knew that I’d still planned on killing you the moment I got a chance, so – so why?”

“We’re –” Jon stops himself, rephrases. “In my future, we became friends.”

“What?”

“W-well, we – we were both Avatars trying to resist our darker natures. We went through this together. We just – we had a lot in common.”

Daisy offers no comment.

“I… don’t know what I would have done without you, honestly,” Jon continues, jiggling one foot nervously as best he can in the confined space. “You were… you were the only one I had, most days. The only one who knew what it was like, having the hunger consume you because you refuse to feed it. And – and you had Basira, but she… there were things she didn’t fully understand, couldn’t relate to. So you would come to me. We, uh… we helped each other. Trusted each other.” He adds, a bit timidly: “I… I’ve missed you.”

Still, Daisy says nothing. Jon is about to start rambling again – about what, he doesn’t know; he just needs to fill the awkward silence somehow – but Daisy speaks first.

“But – but what about before all that? Why did you come down here the first time around?”

“I was… in a bad place,” Jon admits. “Tim was dead, Sasha was dead, Melanie hated me, Basira saw me as a monster, Georgie wanted nothing to do with me, and Martin was… gone. I had no one, I wasn’t human anymore, I was afraid and ashamed and guilty and tired, and I… I was starting to doubt my decision to live. Not wanting to die had started to feel selfish, and I – I needed some way to justify living, some way to make myself useful.

“When we found out that you were alive, I – I just didn’t want to lose anyone else. If there was a chance of bringing you home, I had to try. And… there was nothing to lose. If I got stuck down here, it – it would be no great loss. The world would have even been safer for it – moreso than I even imagined at the time. I… honestly didn’t think that anyone would care if I didn’t come back.”

“That’s messed up,” Daisy says, a hint of wry amusement in her voice.

“Yeah,” Jon says with a self-deprecating laugh. “That’s what you said last time. Like I said, I was in a bad place. But – but in the end, we got out. I know I can get us out of here again. I promised Basira I would bring you home, and I – I – I will. I just… I need some time to find the way.”

“No pressure,” she deadpans.

Jon makes a strangled, exasperated noise in his throat.

“Seriously?”

If he could gesture at the tons of dirt pressing down on them, he would – but he can’t, because of the tons of dirt pressing down on them.

“Just trying to lighten the mood,” Daisy says, just the slightest hint of a self-satisfied smirk in her voice. Jon feels one corner of his mouth quirk in spite of himself.

God, he really had missed her.

The concept of time has no meaning within the Buried. Without any real way to observe or calculate its passing, things tend to feel stagnant. One long note of boredom and desperation and restriction. If not for the unpredictable tides of the soil around them, it might even feel as if time is at a standstill. In a way, it is: there is only one time here, and it is forever – or until the End of everything, at least. To make things worse, true sleep is impossible in the Buried. Sometimes, though, there is a lull in the movements of the earth, and within that liminal space, the mind may be allowed to drift.

Jon isn’t sure how long he’s been drifting when Daisy tugs on his hand.

“Jon.”

“Hm?”

“You’re muttering again.”

“Oh.” Jon clears his throat when he realizes how groggy he sounds. “Was I?”

“Care to share?”

“I’m just – I keep thinking about how Basira escaped the Unknowing,” he says, rousing himself. Out of habit, he tries to stretch, only to remember that he can barely move at all – which, of course, only intensifies the urge to fidget.

“Oh?” Daisy shakes both his hands in hers, prompting him to continue. Judging by the waver in her voice, the silence must be getting to her again. “How – how’s that?”

“She… thought her way out. Like a – an ‘I think therefore I am’ thought experiment.” Jon smiles to himself and shakes his head slightly. “She put Descartes to shame.”

“Not even a fair comparison,” Daisy scoffs.

“Agreed.”

“Were you thinking of trying that here?”

“I… don’t think it would work.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re not that level-headed.”

“That’s –” Jon’s indignation fizzles out just as quickly as it emerged. “That’s… okay, yes, that’s fair.”

Daisy snickers; Jon can’t help a small grin in return.

“But what I was actually trying to say is that it was a strategy uniquely tailored to the Stranger. The Unknowing was all about – unreality, about not being able to trust your senses, even your own identity. Basira figured out that the best way to anchor herself in that situation was to boil her entire reality down to simple logical premises: She existed. She existed in a place and time. The place was dangerous at that time, so she had to not exist in that place at that time. Places have ends, and if she kept moving, she could reach a different place.”

“Huh.”

“Straightforward. Elegant, even.”

“It’s Basira,” Daisy says, unmistakable fondness creeping into her tone. Jon snorts. “Shut up, Sims. You were saying?”

“The Buried doesn’t operate in the same way. Basira reasoned her way out of the Stranger’s domain by denying unreality. If we tried to do the same thing, we’d just be denying… well, reality. The earth, the pressure, the – the ‘too close I cannot breathe,’ it’s all real.”

“Good pep talk.”

“Sorry, that’s not what I –” Jon sighs. “I didn’t mean to sound… morose. I was just thinking about different kinds of anchors. Basira managed to center herself and use her own mind as an anchor, and I – I find that impressive, is all.”

“That’s one way to describe her,” Daisy says. “She’s… always been like that. Practical, reliable… centered.”

Wait, Jon thinks to himself, brow furrowed. What if…

“Daisy, tell me about Basira.”

“What?”

“I – she’s your anchor, right? And – and you’re hers.”

“I don’t know about –”

“She called you solid, a – a – a fixed point,” Jon says excitedly. “When you’re there, things make sense to her. You ground her. And now, without you, she’s… she has trouble knowing where she stands. She has no backup, no one to orient her. What she did during the Unknowing – it was impressive, but it isn’t sustainable over a long period of time. You can only go it alone for so long before you lose your bearings. She – she needs you. And you need her. Right?”

“She’s the fixed point,” Daisy murmurs, as if that explains everything – and maybe it does.

“Exactly, s-so – tell me about Basira. From your perspective.”

“Why?”

“Because this is the Buried, where we’re at the center and everything is weighing down on us,” Jon says, mind racing five steps ahead of him. “The dirt, the pressure, it’s all real, but – but the Fears are also about state of mind.”

Jon can feel his heart rate pick up, the way it does whenever he’s talking his way through a puzzle. If he could, he would be pacing right now, burning off that restless energy. Instead, he finds himself tapping his fingers rapidly against Daisy’s hands. She doesn’t stop him, though.

“I’m not saying that we can solve this with ‘mind over matter’ thinking, but it might – help, if we can both focus on an anchor – a different center point, that is, one outside of this place. Move from this center to that center. There’s a better chance of figuring out which way is up if we’re both feeling for the way out. We can orient each other. If we both feel a tug from the same direction, we know we’re going the right way.”

“I can’t feel anything, though,” Daisy says. “Or – I can, but it’s – it’s everywhere, pushing in one direction – pushing down –”

Jon grips her hands more tightly when he hears her breathing start to grow ragged.

“That’s why you need to tell me about Basira – until you do feel a pull. I could be way off, but it’s worth a try. And – and if nothing else, it might help clear my mind, so I can give finding the way out another shot.”

“A statement, then?” Daisy asks sardonically. “Recharge your battery?”

“I wish,” Jon says with a grim smile. “The Eye only likes horror stories. If any story would sate my appetite, I could just watch biopics any time I was feeling a bit peaky. Hell, imagine if a fictional story was enough. An episode of the Archers would be like an afternoon snack.”

“You like the Archers?” He doesn’t have to see her to know that her eyebrows are raised as high as they’ll go.

“You know, I said the exact same thing to you once. And no, I don’t, but you do, and you used to make me listen with you. We didn’t even make a dent in the back catalogue, but I’m an Avatar of terrible knowledge and the Beholding loves spoilers, so guess who Knows every episode now?” Daisy barks a laugh at that. “There are over nineteen thousand episodes, Daisy!”

“That sounds like a you problem.”

“Anyway,” Jon says, squeezing both of her hands in lieu of nudging her shoulder, “a story just… helps take me out of my own head sometimes. Always has. You’re humoring me, not the Eye. Besides, do you have anything better to do?”

“S’pose not.”

“I mean – you don’t have to, of course, if you’re uncomfortable. I don’t want to pressure you –” Jon cringes. “Bad choice of words. I –”

“Stop babbling, Sims.” He knows that tone of voice, knows that she’s rolling her eyes right now. “We only have so long before the walls close in again –”

Daisy cuts herself off with a strangled noise, which she tries to cover by clearing her throat. She was likely trying to lighten the mood again, but the inevitability of the Buried’s ebb and flow is still too real, too close.

“Do you, uh… do you want to hear a story or not?”

“Please.”

“Back again?”

Martin jolts at the sound of Georgie’s voice. He tosses a brief glare over his shoulder at her where she stands just outside the doorway to the office, a safe distance from the Coffin. Martin discovered quickly that the Coffin’s compulsion has no impact on him, likely muffled by his allegiance to the Lonely. Georgie, though, has no such protection.

Coincidentally, it also means that as long as Martin keeps close to the Coffin, Georgie has to keep her distance from him as well.

“It’s been a week,” Martin says in a quiet monotone, tearing his gaze away from her.

“Yeah.”

“He should have been back by now.”

“Well, he didn’t really give a timeframe –”

“But you said he implied that it wouldn’t take more than a week,” Martin says impatiently. “And knowing Jon, he exaggerated how long it would take, just so no one would worry if he was late.”

“I… yeah, I know,” Georgie sighs. “I was expecting him to be back by now, too.”

Martin nods in a clear ‘I told you so’ gesture – then immediately feels childish. Why is he acting vindicated by her admission?

“Does Peter know you’ve been coming down here?”

“Don’t care.”

“Oh?” Georgie says, her voice suspiciously bland – and only then does Martin register the significance of what he just said.

“I just meant – it’s –” Martin huffs. “It’s none of your business.”

“Of course.” Martin can hear the smirk in her tone.

“Why are you here?” he snaps, swiveling to look at her again.

“Same reason you are, I expect.”

Martin says nothing to that, simply turns his back on her. For a few minutes, the only sound is the low, indistinct chatter of the tape recorders, still spooling out their horror stories on a loop.

“Have you tried calling to him?” Georgie asks. Martin continues to ignore her, teeth clenched until they ache. “It could be worth a shot. He left all those tapes running – don’t know if he can hear them exactly, but they’re meant to call to him.”

Go away, Martin thinks, his hands curling into fists on his knees.

“Your voice might be better than a recording.”

Why is she so persistent?

“Just – think about it, okay?”

When Martin doesn’t respond, Georgie sighs, knocks twice on the door frame, and takes her leave. He doesn’t look back around until the sound of her footsteps fade away.

“Sure, just leave the door wide open,” he grumbles irritably, rising to his feet to remedy the issue.

He pulls the office door shut with more force than intended, practically slamming it. The lone tape recorder on Jon’s desk, previously standing on end, topples over with a light clatter. Martin exhales heavily and pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to suppress the static buzz of nervous energy simmering inside him.

“But we need you, Jon,” the tape recorder grinds out. “Jon, please, just – please.”

“Fuck,” Martin says, voice thick and strained. He takes several deep breaths – in through his nose, out through his mouth – trying to clear his thoughts. Eventually, his shoulders slump and he sighs. “Fine. You win.”

He settles himself on the floor in front of the Coffin again, closer this time.

“Jon,” he says, then falters, unsure of what to say. “I –” He lets out an agitated breath, then follows it up with a bitter chuckle. “This is stupid. You probably can’t even hear this, can you?”

There is an uncomfortable, stinging pressure in his eyes and he reflexively tries to swallow back the tears, only to realize how dry his mouth has become. He rubs his eyes instead, digging the heels of his palms into the sockets and applying pressure.

“I – if you – if you can hear me, I… I already lost you once. I can’t do this all over again, I just – I can’t. I’m – everyone is waiting for you, and I still…” Martin sniffles and clears his throat. “Just – come home, Jon. Please.”

“I think I’d forgotten what it was like to just be… present in the moment? A – a quiet moment, anyway.” Daisy sighs. “On a hunt, you always have to think a few steps ahead, anticipate the prey’s movements so you can get out in front of it. Even when you’re present-thinking, like during a fight, it’s – it’s instinct and reflex, quick movements and jagged edges. You can never just… be.”

“I think I understand,” Jon says. “Not the Hunt aspect, but – but the intolerance of stillness.”

“But in that moment – laying back in the grass, Basira going on about the stars – I was… I was just me. I was focused on her – she gets so excited, so animated whenever she has a chance to talk about something new she’s learned, and I – I let her go on for” – Daisy laughs – “going on forty minutes, probably, about – about the Wow! signal before she looked over and saw me staring. Got all embarrassed that I let her talk so long.”

Jon can feel himself grinning.

“In her defense, the Wow! signal is a fascinating topic.”

“I thought so,” Daisy says warmly. “I mean, I must’ve, right? The whole time she was talking, I never felt the blood calling to me. Afterwards, it felt wrong, somehow – unnatural – that I’d been ignoring it. Not even resisting it, just – tuning it out altogether. I didn’t notice until then how loud it was – like for my whole life there had been teeth at my throat and I just never noticed until that moment.” She pauses. “It’s strange, but I – I think I liked it. The quiet.”

“I don’t think it’s strange at all,” Jon says softly. “I think –”

Suddenly, there’s a distinct wrenching sensation within him – like having a hook yank upwards, painless but abrupt enough to make his breath catch in his throat.

“Jon?” Daisy says warily. “What’s wrong?”

There’s something there.

“Do – do you feel that?”

“No? What – what is it?”

“It’s – wait, just let me…”

Jon concentrates, holding his breath as he waits, and –

There. Another pull, like a fish tugging at a line. And another, gentler but just as insistent.

“Daisy, I –” Jon lets out a breathless little laugh. “I think I know the way. C-come on, follow me.”

End Notes:

tbh I was tempted to split this into two chapters but it felt like it wanted to be all one thing, and also I didn't want to end on an angsty cliffhanger because:

I know I was managing a loose every-7-to-10-days-ish update schedule for awhile there, but it miiiight start looking more like an every-two-weeks schedule going forward. I've been on split shifts at work but we're supposedly going back full time soon, so that might effect how much writing time I have each day. Just wanted to give a heads up in case it takes longer than usual before the next chapter is ready.

There are several snippets of dialogue borrowed/reworked from Jon & Daisy's conversation in the Buried in MAG 132 - they're scattered throughout the chapter. (The "This is forever deep below creation..." and "One thing I've learned..." internal dialogue bits are from 132 also.) Probably goes without saying, but Martin's Lonely statement is from MAG 170 and there's also a previously cited usage of his dialogue from the S4 trailer. The Tim quote is from MAG 117. "The blanket never did anything" (still one of the creepiest lines in the podcast i s2g) is from MAG 086.

#tma #tma fic #the magnus archives #tma spoilers #long post

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thesolitarystripe · 3 years

Text

Edna Briggs-Writing Prompt # I’ve Lost Cont

Today's entry was suggested by my best friend, Chenoa. This entire premise was hers and despite my encouragement that she write it; she did not feel like she could. So, I told her I would write it for her. I hope this is what she envisioned, equal parts sad and wholesome.

Enjoy my dearest!

“How long will it be tomorrow, Edna?”

“Sixty-five years.”

“Sixty-five. That’s right…”

The man knew very well how many years it would be that he and his wife would celebrate their marriage. Sixty-five years, tomorrow. Wrinkled hands found more delicate ones, pallid and cool to the touch.

“You still…can’t remember.” There was a weak puff of laughter as Edna turned her head and regarded her husband warmly.

“That’s why I need you here Edna,” at this, the man’s voice cracked with the tightness that formed in his throat. “I’ll never even remember to feed myself.” The pair chuckled softly. Edna patted the top of her husband’s hands.

“Yes, you will Jim.”

That was all she said as she smiled through brimming tears. Edna laid in the comfort of a hospital bed within her own home, in her living room, to be exact. The couple had a large family, and their bedroom was so small that Jim barely fit inside next to both the new and old beds. So, their five children deemed it necessary to move Edna into the main room so that they all could sit beside her—them and their ten grandchildren. It had been two years now that Edna was on hospice and an amazing feat considering the doctors thought she would pass on within the first six months. Edna clung to life the way she held fast to Jim’s hand, with nothing but love and enthusiasm. It was noticeable now, perhaps only to Jim, that Edna’s fingers did not grab hold so hard. In the slipping of her fingers, he felt the waning of her soul and it brought his head down upon her chest as she breathed in and out. So long as he could hear that thrum of her heart, he would know peace. Into the early morning hours, they whispered between them of all life had brought. They shared tender kisses and caresses that Jim desperately fought to commit to memory. Each tickle of her fingers at the back of his neck was etched into his bones and stored away in every fiber of his muscles. Jim would not forget. Somehow, Jim fell asleep. A grown man of ninety-five laid on his wife’s chest, back hunched forward and his arms draped over her; one behind her head and the other over her thighs. Jim fell asleep. When he opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was the look of absolute tranquility upon Edna’s beautiful features. Without moving, speaking, or thinking, Jim knew. Edna was no longer on this plane but, she had made it to midnight. They celebrated their sixty-fifth anniversary in the darkness of their living room.

The days that passed next were a blur. Perhaps one day, Jim would come to and the memories of Edna’s memorial service, her funeral, the crowds of people that came to honor her memory; maybe he would recall it. Today, he sat silently in his living room, the vacant hospital bed beside him. A few of his children were bustling in the kitchen, cooking, and making sure Jim had easy options for food because the man was proficient with a grill and that was about it.

“Papa, we cut up some fresh fruit it’s in the fridge. Make sure you eat it up, so it doesn’t go bad.” Jim’s oldest granddaughter was talking to him, but Jim was in his cushioned armchair, staring out the sliding glass door that led to their patio. All of Edna’s flowers popped vibrantly against the emerald hues of their meticulously watered grass. Jim wondered if it would all die within a few short hours once the little garden realized its tender was gone. That was good, appropriate, even. The flowers should no longer grow if Edna did not keep them; just as the sun should not rise or fall so long as Edna’s chest was still. Jim looked up at the blinding rays of the celestial body. It seemed he had not yet convinced the star to cease its normal cycle because how could life possibly go on without Edna Briggs. How, could it.

Eventually, Jim’s children and grandchildren left. He was sure it was not an easy choice for them. While he was absentminded and aloof, it did not go unnoticed the way they lingered in the doorway or how they looked at him with concern in their eyes. Jim waved them off with a brave little smile. Then they were gone, and the house was horribly quiet. There was no talk of the gossip at Bingo, no asking what time ‘Jeopardy’ would be on even though it came on every night at the same time; there was a lingering aroma of food, but it was not Edna’s cooking. Jim sat in his armchair. Jim stewed in the silence and looked out the back door until the light dissolved and nighttime fell. This was how he passed most of his days for a week. People called; he did not answer. The only communication he managed was a short text asking his children not to come—he needed time. Jim ate halfheartedly but per his granddaughter’s wishes, he did not let the fruit go bad. She had worked so hard, after all. It was on the sixth night that Jim finally turned on the television. There had been no sound for so long that it almost felt like an intrusion to hear the people in the commercials talking. He left it on and eventually, he fell asleep in his chair with one hand resting on the end of the hospital bed. That was how they had gone to bed many times over the last two years.

Jim was snoring for several hours when a sound finally woke him from his dreamless stasis. It was not the incessant dinging of bells on whatever game show had just come on—he had slept through that many times. There was a clink in the kitchen. Jim and Edna had no pets and had lived alone for a number of years after their children grew up. In Jim’s mind, there was no reason for any part of their home to be making noise unless someone else was in it. As that thought occurred to him, Jim grew very still, eyes wide open and desperately peering through the darkness. Jim had never felt scared but as he sat, totally alone, he felt that sick heat creep into his belly and spread like fire through his veins. The man was paralyzed in his chair, sinking deeper and deeper each time he heard that clinking noise. It was different and seemed to be moving around the kitchen. There was a certain tone of the porcelain in the sink when it was hit; it was very different from the sound that was produced when the marble countertops were bumped or the wooden cabinets. From what he could hear, it sounded like someone was cooking a full meal inside his kitchen. Jim’s jaw clenched. This was silly. The man, finding all the courage of his younger years rolled to his feet and turned to look back. The kitchen was in full view from the living room, there were no walls separating the adjoined spaces. So, when he looked, there was no mistaking what he saw. There was nothing to block him and his glasses were poised on the bridge of his long nose. Jim’s jaw went slack, and he was certain he was either dead or on his way to the grave.

“Edna, what in the hell are you doing?” The little old lady looked exactly the way Jim had last seen her save for the color in her cheeks. That ever-present vibrancy that Edna had when she was alive, her youthful glow, it had returned with a new fullness.

“Well excuse me, Jim, I’m making your late-night snack like I always do. I am more than happy to stop if you’re going to take that attitude with me.” Jim stared. Jim stared for a long time, so long that Edna rolled her eyes. “Tuna fish and saltine crackers, it’s your favorite.” A small plate plopped onto the counter and slid toward Jim. The man looked down for a moment but immediately brought his gaze back to Edna for fear she might vanish.

“Honey, I don’t know how to tell you this but—”

“I’m dead! I know that Jim, I’m not stupid. Someone’s got to come along and take care of you. You said it yourself a week ago, you’ll forget to eat. Then what? Then I have to spend eternity with you too?” Edna smiled after that. It was full of knowingness and patience because she was, indeed, fully aware of her circumstances.

“The—the…the grandkids…they left some food—Edna! How…” Jim was taking cautious steps forward and he found himself vaguely wondering if there was some sort of technology, he wasn’t aware of that could project life-like images of loved ones into your home. Was this some sort of invention created for coping with loss? Jim’s brown eyes did a quick scan of the kitchen. He saw no indication of a projector. There was nothing out of place in his old kitchen, except for a perfectly intact Edna standing in the middle of it.

“Simple. I didn’t want to leave,” Edna shrugged and gave the plate another inch toward Jim. The man had approached and was well within range of the plate now. He looked at Edna incredulously before he swooped in and wrapped his arms around her. She was whole and smelled like his favorite perfume; she had worn it every day since they had met. Jim wasn’t fully aware of it, but he was weeping. Into the meticulously done curls that framed Edna’s head and neck. That familiar tickle of her fingers at the nape of his neck only made him cry harder because his memory had failed him. In the short time away from his wife, Jim had already forgotten what the scrape of her nails felt like on his skin. Edna embraced her husband in the kitchen, endlessly. Only when he was ready to lift his head did she take a small step back and smile up at him. “They really should change that whole ‘till death do us part' bit. It doesn’t have to end there, not if you don’t want it to.” Jim laughed. For the first time in a week, he was smiling, and it felt like rust was crumbling off all the unused facial muscles.

“Well…what do we do?”

“What do we do? Jim I’m going to sit down and watch my shows, it’s only ten-thirty. Now eat!” Jim was given the plate of crackers. He tested its weight; he poked the bottom of it to see if his finger would go through. It didn’t. Finally, he ate a cracker with a scoop of Edna’s infamous tuna salad, and it tasted like home. Jim was not sure if he was crazy or if the Lord had bestowed a miraculous blessing upon him but, he would not question the extra time. Quickly, he shuffled after Edna who was crawling into the hospital bed already glued to the television. Jim sat in his armchair munching and constantly glancing over at Edna to make sure she didn’t get swept away into the ethers.

This was how life went on. Learning the extent of Edna’s abilities happened quickly. Jim soon learned that his children nor his grands could see her despite her standing in the foyer to greet them alongside her husband. No one else saw Edna. She did, one time, touch a dishrag without thinking and when it moved on its own their eldest son yelped and jumped away from it. Jim quickly offered up that it was simply the wind from the open window in the kitchen. Luckily, that was all it took to convince his son that there were no ghosts in the house. All the while, Jim looked at Edna who had her little hand over her mouth, giggling. Edna got to enjoy her family from a distance, something that both made her happy and hurt her. Jim could see the longing in her eyes as Edna sank to the floor to sit by their grandchildren who played, oblivious that grandma was right beside them. There was much that Jim found cruel about Edna’s current existence. While she cooked and cleaned and took care of Jim as well as she had in her living days—she could not enjoy the material things of the mortal world. Edna could watch television, listen to music, and sit beside Jim while holding his hand. She did not get to taste food or hug her kids; she did not have the luxury of soothing her grandbabies or walking outside. Edna had tried to leave the house multiple times, only to tend to her garden but every door in the home seemed to be a wall. Edna could not leave. The pair existed within the living room and kitchen. Eating and watching television. This was their new routine. Edna did not sleep; she didn’t need to. She would stay up and watch Jim, hold his hand, pet his hair; anything to keep her busy through the hours he was not conscious of her. As the months passed, Jim watched these realities affect her though Edna never complained.

One evening, the couple sat watching another ‘Jeopardy’ rerun. They chuckled a little here and there. Edna had made Jim a small platter of cut up meat, cheese, and crackers. She was always feeding him much to his family’s approval—they had predicted Jim would lose weight in the following months after Edna’s passing. They had no idea she still wandered through the home.

“Edna.”

“Yes, dear?”

“How long are you going to stay?”

“That’s a funny question. Funny, because the answer is obvious, isn’t it?” Jim looked at her with a blank expression. “I’m staying until it’s your time.”

“Do you know when that is?”

“No. That’s none of my business, even as a ghost.”

“It could be years.”

“It could be.”

“My grandfather and my father lived past one hundred.”

“Yes, yes, you have good genes. I know.” Edna said it with an air of annoyance like they had this discussion many times over when she was alive.

“My point is, you could be doing this for five more years if not more.”

“You could also die tomorrow,” she quipped.

“Are you going to live every day hoping I die tomorrow?” At this, Edna laughed and shook her head.

“No. Of course not Jim, I want you to enjoy every second of life. Watch the babies grow, watch our bigger babies grow even more. Feel the sun on your face. Tend to my flowers. Eat good food.”

“And what about you?” Jim was very serious, and the tone of his voice had changed from amiable and inquisitive to firm.

“What about me?”

“I suppose you think it’s fine for you to keep on living in this undead existence. Where you get to experience none of the pleasures you just listed off for me.”

“I get to be with my husband. That is the greatest pleasure.”

“Is it, Edna? I see how much you want to hold those grandbabies. The look on your face while I’m eating something you’ve made but you can’t even taste it. Is this really existing at all?” Edna looked at Jim. There was a long discussion had between them, without words. Jim’s eyes were glossy in the way that spoke of tears unarrived but waiting in the trenches. The line of his mouth was hard set and that horrible lump in his throat was thicker than before. It had taken him months to realize it; to see the selfishness of what he did. Jim kept Edna here. It was a blatant fact. No one else could see her, they had accepted her death and let her spirit soar free. Jim did not. Jim carried the burden of damning his wife to this listless life as a specter when she was deserving of so much more. “Edna, you have done what you needed to in this life, tenfold. You raised a beautiful family, we did, together but we both know who did most of the work. I am not blind to that. You have been an excellent grandmother to those babies, and they will grow up to know unconditional love and how to bake the best pies for Christmas. You took care of me, God, you still are! Even in death. This is not your eternal rest, Edna. This is not the peace you have earned after such a full life. It was full, wasn’t it?”

Edna sat on the edge of the hospital bed, legs dangling, hands folded in her lap as she faced Jim. Tears streamed down her face. The weight of this new existence was taxing and harder than she imagined. Participating in life from the sidelines. Watching but not doing. Living but not living at all. “It was very full, Jim. The best life I could have ever wanted and then some.” Edna’s petite shoulders shook with sobs and Jim rose and sat beside her on the bed; he encircled her in his arms and pressed his face against her neck.

“I love you Edna Briggs, but this is not the existence you were meant to have. It is time for me to let you go,” he whispered. Jim breathed in as deeply as he could. Memorizing every dip and curve of her body as if he had not already done that over the last sixty-five years. The smell of her perfume. The smoothness of her skin. The sound of her breath as she wept. These were all important pieces of information, things he would store away and remember on days when he missed her. Every day. Jim would remember it every day. Jim and Edna wept together, just as they had the night she passed. They squeezed one another and eventually fell back on the bed. Jim felt sleep tugging at his eyelids, and he knew, deep in his gut, when he woke tomorrow Edna would be gone. “I promise, I’ll see you soon. I love you so much. You have been the most amazing wife a man could ever ask for.” Jim’s hands were in those bouncy curls, fingers wrapped around Edna’s skull as he touched their foreheads together. “I won’t last long without my other half, but I’ll make sure the grandbabies are skilled pie bakers before I go.” They laughed. The room was quiet except for their sniffling. “It’s okay to go, I love you.” Edna kissed her husband’s face, his forehead, and lips. Edna fell asleep. Finally. She had not realized just how tired her soul was until her eyes closed and she drifted off into the most peaceful slumber within her husband’s arms.

When Jim woke the next morning, he was alone, as expected. Despite the hole he felt in half of his heart, Jim smiled. Edna was finally at peace and that alone brought him more joy than anything else.

#creative writing #OC #writing prompt #My writing #thesolitarystripe #romance #wholesome #writing #tw death #tw natural death #writers on tumblr

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elisaphoenix13 · 4 years

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To Earn One's Stripes

It was Quill's soft groan that woke him, but he didn't bother opening his eyes to look at him. The celestial had just gotten back from a late shift and Scott listened as Quill's belt was unbuckled and yanked from the loops. It clattered on the carpet almost noiselessly as the man sat on the foot of the bed to kick off his boots, and then his pants and shirt joined them on the floor before Quill collapsed onto the bed next to Scott. The younger could feel the god relaxing into the bed, but the smell of smoke made him wrinkle his nose as he rolled over to look at his husband.

"You smell like smoke." Scott mumbles.

"Sorry babe...I'm exhausted. Is it that bad?" Quill mumbles into his pillow.

"No. Just make sure you shower when you wake up. We have to wash the sheets anyway."

Quill grunted to let Scott know that he had heard him and not even two seconds later, was snoring like an overgrown cat. Flynn's nose poked out from under his collection of Quill's shirts on his bed before the fox crawled out from under them and jumped into the bed after a few tries. As the kit walked up the bed to plop next to the celestial and curl against his neck, Scott began to wonder why Flynn didn't seem to be growing. He had to be almost a year old but still looked as if he were only a couple months old and Quill sure as shit wasn't into…that. Was there a different connection between the two?

Then the metaphorical light bulb lit up. Flynn chewed on Quill's fingers every chance he got, and whenever he drew blood, he whined apologetically and licked the droplets away. Maybe that was the reason Flynn wasn't growing? Neither of them were concerned, just curious.

Scott huffed fondly and rolled back over to go to sleep, but was woken again when he felt another body crawl into the bed between them. Cassie slips under the covers between them, and sighs softly, not even complaining about Quill's smoky smell.

"Nightmare?" Scott asks groggily.

"Couldn't go back to sleep by myself." She whispers.

"Just be careful of Flynn." Scott mumbles before going back to sleep.

The next morning, when Scott woke up, Cassie was already gone from the bed and breakfast wafted in the air through the cracked doorway. He didn't get up. He just rolled over and entwined his legs with Quill's and sighed softly when the god wrapped an arm around him in response. Quill still smelt like smoke but neither he nor Flynn minded...and that was another thing about the fox. Any other fox would run and hide from the smell of smoke but it seemed like Flynn understood the difference between his daddy smelling like it and something like the barbecue at the lake house.

"Are you wearing perfume?" Quill mumbles out and Scott snorts.

"No. Cassie was in here with us last night. Maybe she was wearing some yesterday."

"Hnn...okay…"

"Come on big guy let's take a shower. I can smell breakfast. Barely. You stink." Scott laughs and shakes Quill awake.

"Too tired for shower sex." He groans.

"We don't have to do that. Now get up before I push you off the bed."

Scott rolls out of bed and schleps himself into the adjoining bathroom, taking off his shirt and sleep pants with the door open. Quill may be too tired to do the deed but giving him something to look at would give him enough motivation to get out of bed. And it worked. He heard his husband mumble something along the lines of "you're such a tease" as he got out of bed, and Quill soon joined him as he pulled off his own clothes. They stepped into the shower after Scott turned it on and just before Quill closed the door, Flynn darted in and hee-hee'd as the water wet his fur.

"We might as well get him clean too." Scott laughs.

"Shouldn't it be weird that he can see us naked?" Quill asks as Flynn moves to his usual corner out of the spray and out of danger of being stepped on.

"We've had sex while he was in the room. You're worried about this now?" Scott rolls his eyes as Quill starts washing his hair.

"Nah. I'm not worried about it."

They washed and rinsed, Quill got a little handsy which led to a steamy make out session, and then Quill finally turned his attention to Flynn when the kit started yapping for his attention. While he washed Flynn, Scott got out of the shower and dried off before wrapping the towel around his waist and went to pull their clothes out. It wasn't long before he heard the shower turn off and then Flynn's collar jingling obnoxiously, giving away that he had shaken the water off his fur.

Then he heard the hair dryer. Flynn hee-hee'd again, and Scott rolled his eyes as he took the clothes into the bathroom after getting dressed. Flynn was sitting on the sink as Quill pointed the hair dryer at him on the lowest setting to dry him off, with his tongue sticking out and his tail swishing happily. It had been sort of an accident when they found out Flynn liked the hair dryer. The fox had the zooms one day and darted into Cassie's bedroom and then her bathroom when he saw it cracked open and she pointed her hair dryer at him in the middle of drying her hair to try and chase him out, but he just sat down and enjoyed the warm air.

More often than not, Cassie's hair dryer was in their bathroom now.

"Alright. All done buddy. Go see if Cassie will brush you." Quill says as he turns off the hair dryer.

As if he understood, Flynn hopped down onto the toilet and then the floor before running out and Quill accepted his clothes from Scott after putting the appliance away. It gave the thief time to appreciate the very firmly toned body in front of him until it was hidden away by clothes. He, of course, picked out a tight fitting t-shirt to hug Quill's muscles so he could ogle some more. Shame? The word flew from his vocabulary when he started dating Quill. Now he was married to the man and it was almost like they didn't know what it meant. Just enough to keep not safe for work activities from young eyes.

The second Quill finished getting dressed, Scott glomped onto him. "You sure you need this on?" He asks as he tugs on the shirt.

Quill laughs. "I'm pretty sure Cassie is getting sick of me walking around without a shirt on."

"Maybe later we can--" Scott starts until Flynn comes running back in to screech at them loudly.

"Alright, alright!" Quill huffs and follows Flynn downstairs after Scott drops his arms. "Did Cassie brush you?"

"I will after breakfast." She says as she sets plates on the breakfast counter.

"Do you have any plans for today?" Scott asks her as the couple sits down to eat.

"The circus is in town." She says as she sits with them. "Diana wants to go so I said I'd take her. Stephen was going to come with us but he had an emergency and he's dimension hopping now."

"We can go with you." Quill offers after swallowing some eggs.

"Really?! She was disappointed when Mom had to cancel last minute."

"Sure peanut. We'll eat, get Flynn nice and pretty, and we'll take you and Dia." Scott says.

"Pretty." Quill snorts and bites off a piece of bacon.

==========

He didn't know what happened. One minute they were enjoying the show, and the next, the tent was on fire and people were screaming. Quill immediately jumped into action and got Scott and the girls out safely before focusing on getting everyone else out as quickly as possible, and just as the last of the people were running out of the blazing tent...he heard it. A pained roar filled the air just as potently as the black smoke and Quill looked around until he found a tiger trapped under some of the metal structure that had fallen. The tiger roared again and when Quill got close enough, it growled dangerously until the celestial held his hands up.

"Easy." Quill steps closer slowly and stops again when the beast swipes its paw at him. "I'm just going to get this off of you."

He braves stepping even closer and grabs the metal structure carefully and then lifts it almost effortlessly off of the tiger. It quickly gets up and moves out from under it just before Quill drops it again, and the beast roars out painfully and collapses again. It didn't take much investigation to see the structure had injured the cat and Quill approached it again, ignoring the swipe to heal its injured leg. The tiger's claws sunk deeply into his shoulder, but Quill didn't move until he was done healing the tiger.

He was minorly surprised when the massive paw dropped from his shoulder carefully.

"Alright, get up. Come on." He urges the tiger and leads it by its scruff to their exit when it gets back to its feet.

The tent started coming down around them as they escaped, and they nearly had to dive out to keep themselves from getting buried under the burning tarp. Quill leads the tiger a safer distance away from the fire, and once he catches a glimpse of the fire department arriving and taking action, he looks around for Scott and the girls. Quill found them a few yards away and sighed with relief when he saw they were unharmed, and started the short trek over to them...until he was nearly knocked over by the tiger nudging his leg.

Right. The tiger. There was no chance in hell he was returning it to the circus. He saw a few scars scattered along its side and haunches as he was healing its leg and it infuriated him to know that animal cruelty was real within the circus.

Quill kneels down and slowly reaches out to pet it gently. The tiger chuffs softly and moves closer to nudge the celestial again and he sighs. "If Scott doesn't kill me, Tony will. I have a fox at home. There's a cat and a wolf too. You can't eat them."

No one came to claim the tiger so Quill got back up and led it over to Scott and the girls. Not that he would have handed the tiger over anyway. When he got close enough and they noticed his presence, Scott immediately pulled the girls behind him when he saw the tiger.

"Quill! There's--"

"A tiger. I know." He huffs. "It…" he pauses and looks under the tiger. "Excuse me, he is coming home with us."

Scott opens and closes his mouth before, "he's...what about Flynn and the other animals?!"

"I'm sure Stephen can help with that. Sugar...he needs some TLC." Quill gently pets the tiger's side to draw attention to his scars. "I won't let them take him back...and he's too domesticated for the wild."

Scott sighs. "...if you think it's safe then fine. Tony is probably going to shit a brick though."

"I don't think Tony cares anymore."

"I can make a portal home!" Diana finally pipes up, and without the use of a sling ring, she opens a portal to their floor at the tower and walks through with Cassie and Scott before Quill follows with the tiger.

As the portal closes behind them, Quill firmly grabs the tiger by its scruff as Flynn comes tearing after them from out of nowhere...and the kit immediately skids to a stop when he sees the tiger. Both animals stared at each other for what seemed like an hour, and then the tiger finally lays down and pulls Flynn closer with one of his massive paws and starts licking him. The kit screeches in surprise but once he realizes he's not being eaten, he slowly begins to relax until he's actually starting to enjoy the grooming.

"I…" Scott finally starts with an expression of bewilderment. "Just like that? Do we even need Stephen's help communicating with him?"

"We might not." Quill replies in amusement.

"What are you gonna name him?" Cassie asks.

"Oh pfft...hell if I know." Quill says.

Scott bravely crouches next to the tiger and hesitates before reaching out and petting him. He doesn't even falter in cleaning the fox between his paws. "He looks like an Emir."

Cassie nods. "I like it."

"Emir it is." Quill chuckles.

"Uncle Quill, you're bleeding!" Diana says as she points to his wounded shoulder.

"Believe me, it was worse than this when he swipes at me. It'll be healed in another hour." The god tells her with a smile. "You better go upstairs and tell your dad that you're okay. I'm sure the fire is all over the news."

Diana agrees and takes Cassie with her to go upstairs and Scott stands back up to stand next to Quill and watch Emir lick Flynn. Maybe since Quill had helped him and even saved his life, Emir was respecting the ones he was with and knew Flynn wasn't dinner? He wasn't sure but it was a mercy. If he had to keep them separated until Stephen got home, it would have been a nightmare.

"Maybe I can get Emir to do that to you too." Quill cackles and Scott smacks his chest with the back of his hand.

"Don't you dare."

#antlord #mama bear au #peter quill #scott lang #cassie lang #flynn the fox #diana stark strange (oc)#emir the tiger #celestialfamily #celestial quill

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barnesbabee · 4 years

Text

Pay Up iKON Junhoe x READER

I have requests open, so pelase do request away!

------

Summary: Unpaid debts from illegal gambling take you to meet the ruthless gang boss whom you owed money to, but how will you paay him?

Pairing: Koo Junhoe (June) x Reader

Words: Several, I’d say

Genre: Smut

A/N: there’s some heavy stuff here, so if you’re not very comfortable with extremes I would advise you to skip this!

“No... Please! Please give me another chance, I promise I can do this I-I’ll do anything!” You begged, tears threatening to fall from your distressed eyes.

“Sorry love, ain’t no breakin’ the rules...”

The big man with the rough beard wearing a heavy-looking leather vest collected the remaining chips on the table, after showing his royal flush.

Your head sunk low. Small whimpers and sniffs could be heard, and although you wouldn’t show your pained expression, all of the men in the room could tell you were crying.

“How are you gonna pay love?”

The rules of this Poker game with a twist were pretty simple: if you didn’t have enough chips to even the ones on the table but still didn’t want to fold, you would write on a paper the ammount still needed and throw it near the chips that represented quantities of money.

You slowly lifted your head. Your eyes looked dead, even though they were crying, and your hair seemed as if it hadn’t known a hairbrush in weeks.

You chuckled at the question. The situation was nowhere near being funny however.

“I-I’m... I’m not. I can’t play this.”

One of the men she had been playing against looked visibly shocked: his head immediately turned to her, his eyes grew twice their size and his mouth opened a little. The man that had received all of the chips stopped counting the plastic pieces to look at the brave girl who had just said that. The rest of the men had a mixture of pity and shock in their expressions.

“Ya done messed up girl... I’m sorry but from here on it ain’t my department no more.” The dealer said, raised his hand, and made a movement with it so as to call over one of the big men all dressed in black that stood by the door.

“This young lady ain’t able to pay, would you escort her to Boss so he could handle it?”

The man said nothing, he simply nodded and walked next to your chair. You stood up calmly and started walking. You weren’t going to fight it, there was no point in trying to run from a gang... She had better luck fleeing the country, but with what money?

“Good luck darlin’ you gonna need it with that man...” One of the other players said, before you left.

After a couple minutes of walking and climbing stairs, they arrived to a hallway that had one door only. The big man knocked on said door.

“Can it wait?” A man yelled in a deep, raspy voice from the inside of the rooms.

The guard looked down at you and then at the door.

“Where would we keep her?”

The question made by the man startled you.

Oh God, what had you walked into!?

But to ease your mind, a sigh was heard.

“Go ahead...” He said from the inside.

The guard finally opened the door, grabbed your arm and pushed you in.

The man in the large room was standing by the big window, looking outside and sipping a glass of whiskey.

He turned around to face you and made a nasty face. You must have looked like a mess...

The man sat behind a desk and stared at you.

“Well, are you going to sit down or will I have to call in the big guy to sit you down?”

You scurried to the chair and took a seat.

The person in front of you seemed a little too young to be the Boss of a gang, but he certainly looked like one: his lip had a scar, and it seemed like it had been busted pretty recently, his cheek was stitched up, his torso and forearms (that were mostly exposed due to the rolled up sleeves and unbottuned white shirt) were painted with permanent ink and his eyes looked like he had never loved anything in his life.

“You’re making me annoyed. Why are you not speaking? We’re not here for a picnic, I don’t think I need to tell you I’m not a fucking fortune teller, I can’t foresee why you’re here.” He told you in a condescending tone.

You were already nervous, and this approach sure as Hell wasn’t happening.

“I can’t pay.” You finally let out.

The man, who was taking another sip of his drink, just raised an eyebrow at you.

“What else is new... We don’t take late payments, so you can choose between finding a way to pay me right now or mysteriously disappearing one day.” He threatened.

You could feel sweat starting to form on your forehead as you swallowed air.

“I can... pay you another way.” You said as you leaned your breasts on top of his desk and bit your lip while winking at the man.

To your surprise, the Boss just rolled his eyes.

“If I accepted every of those requests” he started as he stood up “do you even imagine how many women I would have had by now? I’m sure you can imagine that if I wanted to fuck someone I wouldn’t have a problem. If that was all you had to offer, you may go.”

Your knees suddenly felt weak. No, no, no ,no! This couldn’t possibly be happening! This desperation clouding your mind brought one last idea.

“My life.”

This caught the man’s interest. He turned around and looked at you, whom stood up.

“I’m sorry?”

“I’ll give you my life. I’m yours. You’ve had many girls, but I bet you’ve never had one to call your possession. To be whoever you wanted her to be. A costumizable sex slave.”

You could see the man’s lips crack a smirk. The man would have been lying if he said that a “costumizable sex slave” didn’t sound like music to his ears.

He stepped closer to you and put his glass down on his desk.

“You think you can take it?” He asked, as he traced your jaw with his finger.

“Test me.”

The smirk that was once on his lips had turned into a full dirty smile. He looked behind you, and you followed his eyes with your own.

“That’s the bathroom. Fix yourself up and meet me out here once you’re done.”

You smiled a little and hushed to the room. You were quick to find a hairbrush and a towel, which was basically all you needed. You fixed your hair quickly and washed your face. Then, you removed all of your clothes, leaving you only in your red lace underwear. You hadn’t planned for this to happen, but you thanked God you decided to wear something nice under your clothes today.

Once you were happy with your look, you opened the door and stepped out, striking a pose as you stopped.

Junhoe, who was already shirtless took a good look at you and smiled.

“Now we’re talking.”

He called you over using his finger, and like a good girl you obeyed.

“How’s my slave named then?” He asked, while his hands roamed free on your body.

“Y/N. How should I call my master?”

The pet name you called the man made him smile, and feel some type of way down there.

“My name is Junhoe, but I like to hear that pretty mouth call me master.”

As your arms flung around his neck, his hand brought your hips closer together by his large hand tightly groping your ass.

“Your wish is my command master.”

Junhoe groaned and latched his lips onto yours. He didn’t take it slow, quite the opposite, he went as harsh as possible.

When his lips left yours, he started kissing down your jaw and neck. He bit and sucked harshly on your neck, causing you to tangle your fingers in his hair and moan loudly.

“Undress me and suck this cock.” Junhoe whispered in your ear whilst grabbing your cheeks.

“Yes master.”

You got on your knees and undid the belt and zipper of the suit pants. You brought them down, along with his briefs and the man stepped out of the clothing items.

His lenght was standing proudly in front of your face, and you were loving it. You encircled your hands around his cock and spat on it, so you could start by slowly pumping him.

Once you saw him roll his eyes out of pleasure, you licked a stripe along his member and started bobbing your head, following your hand movements.

A couple seconds after, Junhoe grabbed the back of your head and started thursting into your mouth, making you gag on his cock.

Junhoe’s eyes were closed and his mouth was agape. The sounds you were making were the best thing he had heard all month.

As he was about to come he pulled out. The man instructed you to get up, and you oblied. He reached on your back and skillfully unclasped your bra, then removing it.

“On the floor. All fours.”

“Yes master.”

You got on all floors on top of the rug. You felt the man kneel down behind you and pull down the rest of your underwear.

“Open up.” He said, holding your panties balled up near your mouth.

You opened your mouth, only for it to be stuffed with your own underwear.

“Everytime you make a sound, you’ll be punished, understand?”

You spoke a muffled “Yes master”, then earning a sharp pain in your ass.

“What did I say princess?”

Junhoe started by kissing your thigh, then around your core, and when his tongue started pushing in and out of you, oh boy shit got real. You wanted to scream out his name but you knew you couldn’t.

You sunk your head in the rug to try and help your situation, but to your surprise, Junhoe pulled away from your wet pussy and his hand flew across your ass.

“Mantain your position.”

You nodded, and he kept licking long stripes on your womanhood, this time adding three fingers as well, pulling them in and out as fast as he could.

He stopped once more, but only to flip you around, so he could see your face as he played with you pussy like it was his own toy.

Junhoe continued licking you and fingering you. Your face was as red as the walls of the room, and the both of your knew you were about to come.

“Kitten wants to come?”

Junhoe watched you nod impatiently and he smirked. He pulled out his fingers, denying your orgasm. You whined silently at that.

Your master proceeded to remove your “gag” and shoved in your mouth the three fingers that had been on you. You sucked on them, and licked each finger clean, and oh it was a sight to see.

“Oh babydoll, I’m gonna fuck you so hard.” Junhoe groaned, as he settled between your legs and slapped your thighs.

“Please master, I can’t wait for your cock to fuck me.”

This was Junhoe’s kryptonite. He pushed into you and pounded you like there was no tomorrow. You were yelling for his name loudly, as he fucked you mercilessly. One of his hands grabbed your thigh, while the other reached for your neck and choked you harshly, adding some new marks to the ones that had been made by his mouth.

You couldn’t handle all of this anymore so you clenched around his hard member and you came, hard. Your mouth let out a loud moan and your legs trembled.

“On your knees.” Junhoe demanded after a couple more thrusts, as he stood up.

You obeyed quickly, and he started pumping his dick near your face.

“Please let me be your cum slut master.”

“Oh my God...” He growled in a low voice and threw his head back.

A few more pumps and he came, spewing his warm liquid all over your face.

The only thing audible in the room were heavy breathings for a while, with the two of you trying to regain your normal breath, but then, Junhoe spoke.

“Welcome to the gang Y/N”

#junhoe #ikon #june #kpop #smut #junhoesmut #ikonsmut #scenario #ikon scenarios #ikon smut #ikon scenario #junhoe scenario #junhoe fanfic #kpop fanfiction

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fleckcmscott · 4 years

Text

Bittersweet

Summary: After a little prompting, Arthur tells Y/N about his first kiss.

Warnings: Angst, Past self-harm (Don’t worry - there’s love, too!)

Words: 2,652

A/N: This was an anonymous request! Whoever you are, thank you for sending it to me. Writing this was a joy. A hearty thanks to Karen for beta-ing!

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open!

If you’ve sent me a request and I haven’t responded, it’s because I am working on it and will answer once it’s posted!

Edit: I apologize for forgetting to thank @sweet-nothings04 for the title! Love you, girl!

As Arthur felt the first periods of genuine satisfaction within his own skin, he discovered which activities he enjoyed the most. Performing for children, seeing their small faces beam in reaction to his magic tricks. When he was doing a comedy set somewhere and his laughter didn't occur. Working on material or listening to music. And every second with Y/N at his side.

Weaving himself completely with another person hadn't been something he'd believed possible. But during the past eleven months, his assumptions had changed. Y/N knew about the difficulty he often had interpreting people, about his illnesses, about each time he'd been remanded to Arkham. Instead of recoiling as he'd feared, she reminded him to take his medication on the rare occasion he would forget. The calendar that hung by the kitchen entrance had both his appointments or gigs and her court dates written in his scrawl. She delved into his interests by watching old comedies he rented or shows he picked out. He'd explored hers by paying extra attention to Action News and asking about the cases she was working on. And they'd gotten in the habit of watching Gotham Tonight before heading to bed. It was the repetitive mundanities of normal life, the routines and rhythms they'd fallen into, that he found most intimate.

Yet, she still had the ability to flummox him.

They were walking in Sheldon Park after dropping off their groceries and his three prescription refills at the apartment. It was a lovely evening, the temperatures balmy even though dusk was approaching. The place was more crowded than expected for a Tuesday. A group of kids were riding their bikes through the winding paths. On a nearby bench, an older man smoked a cigar while the woman he was with chattered about the day. And there were quite a few teenage couples, strolling with arms entwined or their lips locked.

Y/N must have noticed them, too, because she nudged him when they passed a pair making out on a knoll near the duck pond. "If we'd met back then, would we have been doing the same thing? All over each other without caring who saw?"

A light laugh caught in his throat. He gave her side-eye, taking a drag off his cigarette. "You already don't care who hears."

She was chuckling when she asked her follow-up, like it was the most normal question in the world. "When was your first kiss?" He halted, mouth agape as she continued on. The answer made him feel self-conscious before even giving it. It had been embarrassingly late, considering what he remembered hearing around school as a teenager.

Y/N put a quarter in the duck pellet machine and turned the crank. "I was fifteen. My ex-husband. We were at a drive-in, watching some terrible movie - Attack of the Grasshoppers or Ants or whatever." Arthur stepped towards her and put out his smoke in the nearby ashtray as she held out her hand. "I knew he liked me, but I was surprised." After splitting the feed with him, carefully pouring it into his upturned palm, she sat on the grass, legs crossed in front of her at the ankles, and tossed some in the water. "He leaned over and kissed me as hard as he could. I pushed him away, then pulled him back again."

The birds swam hurriedly in their direction, a couple of the braver ones daring to come ashore. Arthur crouched down next to her and threw some of the pellets himself. But he stayed quiet. A few minutes later, she leaned towards him. "You don't have to tell me. I know I'm your first serious relationship." Shrugging, she continued. "I just thought there might have been a high school sweetheart. Then we could share embarrassing tales."

He shook his head, throwing the rest of the food and sitting next to her, one knee up with his arm rested on it. "No," he said. "You're my only sweetheart." Normally she wasn't fond of pet names, but she let out a soft sound and scooted closer. Her arm looped through his, a kiss planted on his temple. As his lips pressed together, he wondered what she expected. She'd been surprised by his inexperience when they'd started sleeping together, seemingly unable to comprehend how he'd been single. If she'd been anyone else, he would have assumed she just wanted to make fun of him. But she'd been open about her history, and hadn't laughed at him once so far. "I was twenty-two."

"What were you like back then? Just as beautiful, I'm sure."

A short giggle escaped him, his forehead rested on the heel of his hand. While he'd never been outgoing, never been half as bold as Y/N, he hadn't yet shrunken in on himself. Though he'd had his condition, his mental illnesses had only partially presented themselves. He hadn't already been committed. Life had had its challenges, having taken care of his mother seven years by then. But he'd still been naive enough to hope it could be different. That Penny might get better. That he could meet his special person.

That was too much for this conversation. She'd asked a lighthearted question and deserved a lighthearted answer. So he gave one that encompassed it all. "Younger." It had been awhile since he'd reflected on the circumstances surrounding his first kiss. His brows drew together as he tried to remember all the details. "Her name was Helen. We were coworkers in Gotham Park. At a summer carnival."

The bit of exaggeration was unintentional. He'd been hired to work as a clown. It had been new for him, but given his natural aptitude for dancing and interacting with kids, it'd come easier than expected. The boss had told him to roam the entire grounds. And he'd tried to. But it had become impossible after seeing her.

Arthur's eyelids fluttered at Y/N tracing the veins on the back of his hand. "What did she do to win your heart?"

Not a lot. They hadn't exchanged more than a couple of words, mostly pleasantries and the odd complaint about the weather. But she could have done anything, frankly. He'd been fantasizing about dating for years. What had originally been an innocent desire for attention and friendship had, as he'd grown-up, become a near constant craving for love and connection.

Helen had worked at one of the games, though he couldn't recall exactly which one. The radiance of her skin was nearly as bright as the smile she met customers with. She always wore cute, short sleeved sweater sets, ones that revealed a sliver of her mid-riff. She was kind. Whenever she talked with anyone, she'd laugh easily and be attentive. She seemed smart, too; he'd noticed the textbooks she took notes in. The moment he'd passed by her and she'd glanced up at him with her deep, brown eyes, he'd thought he'd sensed an affinity between them. It had sparked his imagination. "She was nice. And pretty. We didn't get to talk much."

"How was it?" Y/N asked playfully, her caresses flirty as they traveled to the inside of his wrist, a spot they'd learned made his breath catch.

The carnival had normally stayed open until nine. But high winds and heavy rain had forced it to close early. He'd been sprinting by Helen's booth, when she called out to him. The front closure was stuck, she'd explained. Could he help her with it? After a minute or two of trying to fix it, she'd invited him into the back. It had taken a couple seconds to decide to go for it - he'd hoped his hesitancy hadn't been too weird. Once the rope was untangled from the hook it'd been stuck on, he'd rolled down the tarp and secured it shut. Then he'd turned to her.

They'd been drenched. Probably half his clown-makeup had been washed off, leaving his pale skin exposed. Her sweater had clung to her, the silhouette of her hardened nipples visible through the cream fabric. He'd fought to keep his eyes averted. The pitter-patter of the pelting rain had surrounded them, slightly muffled by the tall trees above and the orange canvas of the tent. It had felt pleasantly hazy. She'd looked up at him and said, in the sweetest voice, "Thank you. I owe you one."

"Yeah," he'd replied lamely, when what he'd meant to say was, "I think I love you. You're beautiful. Let's go on a date." His heart had been pounding, open, plain to see, and he'd thought he'd understood her smile correctly. It was rare they were directed his way - surely it must have meant something. When she'd offered her hand for a shake, adrenaline had driven him to take it, step forward, and press his mouth to hers.

After all this time, only vague impressions remained. Her lips had been pliant, warm, and wet. How he'd imagined a ripe plum would feel if he could ever afford one. There'd been enthusiasm on his part. And he was sure he'd been trembling. He hadn't paid attention to her reactions, having been too caught up in his own nervousness and excitement. Finally, he'd been brave enough to kiss a girl. He'd been proud of himself for not laughing.

He'd attempted to snake an arm around her waist, pull her flush against his skinny frame to feel the realness of her, the softness of her breasts, the dip of her waist. But she'd backed off, pushing against his chest as their lips parted. He'd released her instantly but kept her hand. He'd tried to hold it loosely enough to hide his desperation as he felt his heart break.

She'd cleared her throat before starting in. "You're sweet, Arthur. But... This is going to be my senior year. I have to concentrate on school." White noise had filled his ears. "I think you're a little old for me. And I'm seeing someone. And..."

Halfway through her litany of explanations, he'd tuned out and slowly dropped her fingers. His palm automatically went to his abdomen, willing his diaphragm to not betray him. "I'm- I'm sorry. I shouldn't have-" He'd squeezed his eyes shut as he broke off, self-disgust filling him. "Why would you like me? I-"

The reassurances she'd given him hadn't mattered much back then. They'd actually made it worse. They'd meant that in lieu of hating him, she simply didn't want him. "I'm not mad." There'd been pity in her half-smile. "It was a nice kiss."

His anguish as he'd gotten ready for work the next morning was overwhelming and unwanted. But his brain wouldn't stop going to Helen. Seeing her again would crush him. The tightness in his chest, the tension in his arms were acute - he didn't know what to do. And anger was welling in him, at himself and what he'd never have. He'd attempted to find distraction in the radio, tobacco, the nearly scalding hot water during his shower. None of it worked. Instead, as he stood in the corner of the living room by his clothes, he banged his head, smashing it into the mirror hanging on the wall.

It was the cracking of the glass that got him to stop, got him to notice what he was doing. The compulsion he'd felt and given into to hurt himself was new. Frightening. And cemented his abnormality. He'd lifted his fingers to his forehead - there'd been no blood, at least. Then he'd squinted at the mirror and groaned, annoyed he'd have to replace it. Quickly, he took it down and threw it in the trash can, not wanting his mother to see what he'd done.

He didn't return to work that day. Or the day after that. He'd stayed at home, calling out sick and missing a week's pay.

Penny had noticed his lack of absence first. Then his failure to do anything besides smoke and get off the couch to use the bathroom. She'd asked if he was okay for the first time in months. And he'd confessed, rasping softly, "No, mom. I need someone." The humiliation he felt at yearning for such simplicities grew as he went through his list. "I want to take her to the movies. To light her cigarette. To hold her." He'd exhaled sharply and flinched. "I want her to laugh at my jokes."

"Oh, Happy," she'd said, patting his arm. In his fragile state, the nickname's familiarity had both calmed and hurt. "Just smile and put on a happy face. You can't feel bad, then." She'd turned back to the television, maternal instincts quickly forgotten. At least around her, he listened and tried to paste a grin on.

Eventually, he had dragged himself back to the carnival - the bills had to be paid somehow. He'd done his best to avoid Helen. She had spotted him once, though, and given a small, friendly wave from across the way. After briefly freezing, he'd chosen to nod back at her, giving her the acknowledgment he would have wanted had their positions been reversed.

He hadn't seen her again. But he'd clung to the memory of that kiss for ages. Reminisced when he'd ached for another life and wanted to believe it might be possible. And for less chaste longings. It had stopped being a placeholder years ago, when he'd realized he'd always live with Penny. Not alone, but lonely, until he was lucky enough to check out forever.

Until he and Y/N had stumbled into each other. Repeatedly. In this harsh city.

"Kissing you is nicer," Arthur said, slinging an arm around Y/N, meeting her gaze.

She giggled. "Oh?" Her tongue darted out to lick her bottom lip, only inches from his own. "And why's that?"

"You love me. And you want me." The touch of his fingertips went to her upper arm, guiding her to recline on the grass. "All the time," he scolded mockingly, rasp barely above a whisper. His lips tickled her, just under her ear, and he delighted in the way she squirmed and batted at his shoulder.

She locked her hands at the nape of his neck and smiled up at him, like he was the only man in the world. Eagerness sparked as her fingers slid under his sweater. "I do," she replied, low and throaty. "I won't pretend I don't." Cradling the back of her head, he bent and sealed their mouths together. She was demanding, as though she sought to capture a piece of him and hold it deep within her. He sighed as he brought his hand to the hem of her blouse, not hesitating before going in for another kiss.

Neither of them heard the hooves of the approaching horse. "Sir? Ma'am?" Arthur turned up towards the mounted police officer shining her flashlight in their faces. "Aren't you two a little old for this?"

Wide-eyed, Arthur's head snapped back to look at Y/N, nearly colliding with her as she held her hand in front of her eyes. Thank god she answered straightaway. "Sorry, officer." She sat up, pushing Arthur off her. The blush currently spreading across her cheeks made him snort. "It's such a beautiful night and, well..." she gestured in his direction. Christ, would she never find it inappropriate to brag about him? He turned away and hid behind his palm.

Y/N stood and brushed off her clothing. "We'll behave, madam. I promise." The cop shook her head and rode off. Y/N covered her mouth as she burst into laughter. "I guess this means we wouldn't have cared who saw." Arthur stood up beside her, pulling up his pants and fixing his hair. "Thanks for sharing that with me," she said.

As she reached to remove a leaf from his jacket, he stepped to her and cupped her face, melding their lips once more. "I'll share anything with you."

~~~~~

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve @howdylilflower @sweet-nothings04 @stephieraptorr @rommies @fallenstarsabyss @gruffle1 @octopus-plasma @tsukiakarinobara @arthur-flecks-lovely-smile @another-day-in-chuckletown

#arthur fleck #arthur fleck fanfic #arthur fleck x reader #arthur fleck x female reader #arthur fleck x ofc #joker 2019 #watchwhathappens

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blu-joons · 5 years

Text

Pregnancy With Taehyung ~ BTS Headcanon

Finding Out You’re Pregnant

Taehyung was over the moon when the two of you found out you were pregnant

The two of you had talked about children for so long, he couldn’t believe that it was actually going to finally happen for you both

He was filled with tears of joy as you did several tests, just to be on the safe side

Honestly, in that moment, he had never loved you so much

“I’m going to be a dad! I can’t believe this is finally happening!”

There was no time like the present in telling his family, who were equally as thrilled for you both, super excited for a grandchild

He didn’t let you out of his grasp for the next few days, cuddling you closely

Protective instincts soon kicked in when he realised, he had another life to care for

You chose not to publicly share your pregnancy straight away, just living in the blissful bubble of your family for the moment

The boys were so excited because they knew how much kids meant to Taehyung, and how amazing a father he would be

“All the practice you’ve had at meet and greets is well worth it.”

He was forever taking time off work to just spend time with you, admiring the changes your body undertook

His mind was going crazy as he planned the next nine months of life with you

Being Pregnant

The two of you ended up having to share your pregnancy at fifteen weeks after fans grew suspicious of your baggy clothing, and the fact you would always hide your tummy in photos

Taehyung loved to take pictures of your bump, and press kisses to it, noticing the little changes every single day

“Even though I touch your tummy I still can’t believe our child is in there.”

“Trust me, I know that there’s a child in there.”

Every Sunday he would grab a tape measure and measure your bump, giggling as he noticed it grow by a couple of inches

He would keep track of it on a little chart that his mother had bought you both as a keepsake

Army was chuffed for you both, they knew just as well as the boys how amazing Taehyung was around children

Tae showed up to all your appointments, even if work was super busy, you were still his number one priority

He always kept one of your scan photos in his back pocket, so he carried you both with him wherever he was

You had the worst morning sickness and tummy cramps which overwhelmed Tae a little

He knew it would pass but it killed him seeing you in so much pain and discomfort

However, he had done his research, and was forever making you hot tea and hot water bottles

The two of you decided to find out the gender, the midwife informing you that you were having a little girl

“Another Y/N in my life, aren’t I just the luckiest guy in the world.”

Her nursery was a sea of pink, anything you could find that was pink was included

Every night his arm would be wrapped around your bump to try and stop her from wriggling

He was very wary about the things you did around the house, not wanting you to hurt yourself or the baby

If you dropped anything Tae would be right there to pick it up

He would practice carrying the baby and burping them with Yeontan

“You do know our daughter is a human, not a dog?”

“Yeah, but Tan’s still like my child, and he can’t tell me to stop.”

He loved treating you to maternity clothing, so you still felt beautiful in your own skin

A few of your own insecurities arose whilst pregnant, your weight increasing everyday

But Tae was a hero, comforting you and telling you how beautiful you were

He was always filming the two of you so you could show your daughter in the future, things like decorating her nursery or going for scans

At least one of the boys was round everyday helping you with little jobs around the house

You both had to intervene when they wanted to get involve with your pregnancy classes though

“It’s going to look a bit suspicious if Y/N shows up to yoga with seven boys accompanying her.”

There were several pet names for your baby as time went on, the main one tended to be. ‘butterfly’

He liked to have you at work so that he could keep an eye on you, making you a little den in the corner of the room

The boys were fantastic too, checking up on you always, making sure you were comfortable, attending to your every need

They were all as invested in this pregnancy as you and Tae which made you laugh

Taehyung loved to cuddle you all the time, reassuring you that you were doing fine

Feeling your baby kick for the first time was a big deal for him

You grabbed his hand and placed it over your tummy, seeing his eyes widen

“That’s our little girl, wow…”

From that moment he was always feeling out for little kicks or wriggles

He loved to talk to your daughter, pressing your belly button as an intercom

You had a major craving for sour foods when you were pregnant, lemons were a particular favourite

Taehyung thought you were crazy as he watched you drink lemon juice or suck into one

He was very attentive to making sure you followed doctor’s notes to the word

As your birth grew nearer, Taehyung would often cry himself to sleep at night in sheer excitement

It was becoming more and more overwhelming that soon a little girl would be in your life

There were moments of doubts and fear, but you were both in this together

Your house was perfect for her to come home to and live in

“It’s crazy how just a few months ago we could have only dreamed of this moment.”

Your own anxiousness set in as you came a couple of days before your due date, the realisation of what you were about to experience hitting you

He wasn’t prepared to see you without your beautiful bump, he loved staring and cuddling it

The last few days before you gave birth were beautiful, the two of you at home, resting, planning your future together

Labour

You knew you were going into labour as you rolled over in bed feeling a tremendous wave of pain in the pit of your stomach

Taehyung jolted awake having heard you grumble, noticing your eyes widening as just an hour later your waters broke

Neither of you knew what to do, panicking that this was finally happening

Tae knew he needed to be brave for you and the baby, picking you up and taking you to the car with all the resources you had prepacked.

His eyes were barely on the road as he drove, his heart breaking as you moaned in pain

He knew that you were going to be in pain, he’d prepared himself, but the sight of it still hurt a lot

“Just focus on your breathing baby, remember what the doctors told you.”

He would breath with you, counting to three and out again until he got you to the hospital

Taehyung had packed himself a bag of snacks and drinks, so he didn’t have to leave the room once when you were in labour

He was so good at reading your emotions, knowing when you needed him and when you needed space

The two of you had chosen to have a water birth after watching several documentaries

Conversation was key, he was always talking to you trying to distract you from the pain

His hand never left your sides, massaging light circles just underneath your bump

He was forever tying your hair up for you as your bun kept slipping from your movements

There were a few moments when you knew he was crying as your contractions became more frequent

“I can’t wait for this all to be over and for you to be pain free jagi.”

Eventually the midwife arrived, informing you it was time to get into the pool

Tae was also able to sit with you, allowing you to sit back into his chest

You could feel his heart pounding as you were told to start pushing

Frequent kisses were placed to the top of your head, whilst his hands massaged your tired frame

He peered over your shoulders as your daughter’s head emerged

Tae was an emotional wreck already, as with one last push your little one appeared

“Our little butterfly is here.”

His arms wrapped around your waist whilst you caught your breath, looking through tear-stained eyes

“You are so incredible, and strong, I love you so much.”

She came to you first, contact with the mother was critical

Taehyung chose to record the first few moments of her life, smiling proudly as you cuddled her

You chose to honour his grandmother with her name

The first time he held her was an overwhelming experience, droplets of tears rolling down his cheeks onto her baby grow

He couldn’t wait to ring his parents, sending them all the adorable photos he had taken

The First Few Hours

The two of you were in complete awe for the first few adjusting to the new life you cared for

You took in every part of her body, piercing dark eyes like Taehyung, her smile just like yours

He couldn’t wait to tell the boys, video calling them as they rehearsed in the studio

There were a lot of screams and coos as they saw your daughter’s face for the first time

She was fast asleep, her head resting perfectly into your chest

Taehyung couldn’t stop cuddling you both, he just wanted the moment to never end

Every so often he would get very emotional, he was so proud of you, and so in love with her

Honestly, he was just a wreck

Unwillingly he shared his snacks with you when you were hungry

It wasn’t like you’d just pushed a seven-pound baby out of you.

He couldn’t wait to get her home and introduce her to her perfect nursery

“You’re going to love home so much, it’s all especially for you.”

The first time you breastfed was nerve wracking, you were terrified something would go wrong

Standing up for the first time was hard

Taehyung was on hand to carry you to wherever you needed to go, helping to dry you off as you got out of the pool

The First Few Days

Your daughter came home two days later, Tae showing her straight to her nursery

He ignored the fact that she wouldn’t understand, describing everything to her

His parents came around that night for lots of cuddles, to give the two of you the opportunity to get some sleep

“She is just the perfect mix of you both, she’s just the sweetest.”

Tae had drawn a piece of artwork to hang up above her cot, surprising you with it that night

Adjusting to life as a three was perfect, you both were learning so many new things

The sleepless nights soon became part of your routine, taking it in turns to check on her

Some nights Tae would just sleep in the rocking chair as he couldn’t face being away from her

After a week you decided to share your daughter to the world, sharing a picture of her tiny feet in Tae’s hands

He was always talking to her and making her squirm by pulling funny faces

You’d heard of the new-born baby bubble, but had never expected to feel as amazing as you did

Meeting The Boys

You took her to meet the boys just before you announced the birth to the Army, having adjusted to life with her

They had already played a game of rock, paper, scissors to decide who was going to get first cuddles

Jungkook was in awe, comparing dimples to see which was cutest

Jimin presented her with a bundle of presents that he had bought for her to keep for the nursery

Namjoon was terrified to hold her for the first time, demanding Tae hold her too, in case he dropped her or anything

“I just don’t want anything to happen to our precious girl under my watch”

Hobi was the tickle monster, constantly attacking her sides making her smile

Yoongi loved to wind Tae up, pretending to kidnap her like he did with Yeontan

Jin was the cool uncle, or so he thought, promising your little girl he would be the favourite

They surprised you that day by revealing a little nursery they’d set up in one of the spare rooms for nursery visits

All the boys promised you that they would look after your family of three

None of them wanted you to leave when you had to, turning up at your house later that night

The Future

As far as Taehyung was concerned, his life was complete the moment your daughter entered your life

Fatherhood was his favourite thing in the world, and nothing could ever change that

He loved seeing your baby grow and learn

And seeing you blossom into a yummy mummy was his favourite thing in the world

He couldn’t wait for your family to grow, and to see where life took him

That was one thing he did know, his life was perfect

Masterlist

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solesurvivorkat · 4 years

Text

FC5 Deputy GFH Dialogue

(Quickie ‘Katie IRL’ Update: So sorry for lack of writing... to be succinct, I might have a sleep disorder, possibly Sleep Apnea - been very tired/lethargic for several months now, finally have a test scheduled for late August. Will have to ‘make do’/power through fatigue until then. I will do my best to jump-start my writing {and my YT channel} until then!

Also - as for ‘I Need to Tell You’ (FC5 no-cult AU fic) - I don’t think I have a ton of readers for that one, so I’m just gonna stick to the movie-plot where I can & finish it up {the end is nearing!}. If anyone wants to read anything else from that ‘verse, lemme know & I’ll whip something up - otherwise, I’m gonna finish that up & get back to working on ‘The Book of John’ again, which is loooong overdue {poor Sarah’s been in John’s bunker forever, lol!}. THAT said... )

~~~~~~~~

Deputy Sarah Rook

(NOTE: My apologies if Sarah’s dialogue is similar to anyone else’s OC’s... I promise and swear that if it happens, it’s purely coincidental. I am adamant about not {purposely} stealing anyone else’s creativity! <3 Also, this is quite long... but it’s not everything in FC5, so if you like it & want even more, just lemme know, lol.)

With Fangs for Hire:

Boomer: “Aww, who’s my sweet, brave boy?” (kisses forehead) - “Good boy, Boomer!” - “I know what it’s like to have someone you love taken away from you... but don’t worry boy, you’re not alone. And I’ll do everything I can to make sure you never are again.” - “I won’t let Eden’s Gate use you, I promise.” - “Boomer, go!” - “Rae-Rae won’t have died in vain, I promise you.”

Peaches: “I’m... usually more of a dog person - but as long as I get to keep all my fingers and limbs, I’m satisfied.” - “Peaches, attack!” - “Us girls gotta stick together, right?” - “Hmm... one blue eye, one brown. Unique!” - “Needless to say, a cougar’s a very dangerous pet. Miss Mable never should have tried to raise you in captivity. Still... it can be handy to have a cougar for an ally.” - (gives affectionate pets) “Aww, my sweet little ‘danger kitty’...”

Cheeseburger: “You’re like a... big, dangerous teddy.” (laughs) - “Cheeseburger! How are ya, buddy?” - “Wade was sweet to look after you. I promise I’ll try to do the same.” - “I will not let Jacob take you.” - “Ohh, those big brown eyes of yours...” - “I can’t believe Wade not only found a collar to fit you, but also one that had cheeseburgers on it. Wow.” - “I’m glad you’re on my side, boy.” - “No, I can’t give you any more cheeseburgers. ...Stop looking at me like that, you know they’re not good for you. ...You’re on a diet, remember? ... (sighs) .....Okay, ONE burger. Don’t tell anyone.”

With other Guns for Hire:

Sharky

(serious) “Sharky... just between us... you’re the best friend I’ve ever had.” - “Sharky... never change.” (smiles)

“Sharky, I know fire is your, uh- ‘specialty’, but... you need to try not burning down half the forest with us!”

“Anything you say, Charlemagne.”

“You and Hurk are a dangerous duo - in more ways than one.”

(horrified, after hearing about his mom/parents) “Anyone who'd do that to an innocent baby doesn’t deserve them. You’re better off, Shark.”

(cheesy grin) “I hope Eden’s Gate stocked up on ‘Shark repellent’!”

(when fighting together) “Time for a ‘Shark attack’!” - “You’ve got us between a rock and a shark place!” - “Sarah and Shark, makin’ their mark!” - “You might be better off using your gun here, Sharky.”

“Disco, Sharky? Really? (sighs) ...All right, to each his own.”

“Hey Sharky, got a bad joke for ya - what’s a shark’s favorite bible story? ...’Noah’s Shark’!”

“Ride or die, buddy!”

“No matter what, I’ve always got your back, Sharky.”

Grace

(chuckles nervously/anxiously after seeing ‘serious/deadpan Grace’) “Sorry, I... joking around is kind of my ‘defense mechanism’...”

“A medal in the Olympics... that’s amazing, Grace. ...Er- no pun intended.”

“For what it’s worth... thank you for your service to our country.”

(after Grace mentions destroying copies of ‘Only You’, Sarah chuckles sadly) “Y’know, it’s funny... I actually used to like that song...”

“I know you want to protect your dad’s grave, I do completely understand... but we also need to help protect innocent people that’re still living too, you know? They need us... need you.”

Hurk

"Hercules Drubman Junior - as I live and breathe." (smiles)

“Hurk, I... don’t think a rocket launcher is the best weapon to use right now...”

“As... ‘tempting’ as ‘Hurk’s Gate’ sounds, I... don’t think it’s quite for me.”

(at a loss for words) “...Oh Hurk...”

“Y’know Hurk... there is a lot more to life than beer, drugs, and sex...” - (Hurk {looks horrified}: “...Say whaat? What’choo talkin’ ‘bout, Dep??”)

“Hurk, just... be careful.”

(stares blankly, then slowly raises an eyebrow) “...Monkey... King/God??”

“No offense dude, but... if your dad doesn’t stop talking I may have to ‘accidentally’ shoot him.”

(sneaking around) “You’re not exactly the ‘king of stealth’. Why don’t... you hang back here for a minute? I’ll signal you or call out if I need you.”

“To each their own, but ‘partying’ is... not really my thing.”

Adelaide

(pointing in turn to Sharky, Hurk, then Addie, during ‘tongue-in-cheek’ suggestions for Sarah) “No, no, and HELL no.”

(Addie: "Punch it Chewie! ...Bet you got a kick out of that, you fuckin’ nerd.") “Hey- I love the reference, and I’m proud of who I am. ...Mostly.” (smiles)

“Addie, for the last time - no, I did not inspect John's underwear drawer when I was at Seed Ranch. I was a little occupied at the time.” (turns bright red as Addie looks thrilled) “...That- that’s not what I meant!”

(reluctantly) “Addie? I kind of need some... ‘womanly advice’.” - (Addie, eyebrows raised: “And you came to me?? Oh hunny...”)

“While I appreciate your... ‘openness’, no - I do not need ‘tips’ from you and Xander about ‘positions’.”

“Addie... ‘showing more cleavage’ is not going to help me with the Seed brothers or Eden’s Gate, despite your insistence.”

“...I am not playing ‘Fuck, Marry, Kill’...”

Nick

(after flying Carmina - and puking once landed) “Nick... if you ever make me do that again... I don’t know what I’ll do, but it’ll be bad.”

“Flying may be great for you, but I’m much happier with my feet on the ground.”

“I’ll protect you and your family as much as I can - that’s a promise.”

“Defending your business, plane, home, family, and friends like you have been... I’m sure your family would be very proud of you.”

“There he is, ‘King of the Skies’!”

“You and Kim... you’re lucky to have each other. I kind of envy that.”

“Rook and Rye - on land and in the sky!“

“I know fighting Eden’s Gate is important, but... don’t forget to be there for Kim too. We’ve [the Resistance] got this... Kim and your baby need you more.”

(After Carmina's born) "How's Kim and the baby? You'd better be taking good care of my goddaughter!"

Jess

“I know we grew up in very different ‘environments’, but... I also know what it’s like to feel alone for a long time. No pressure, but... I’m here if you ever need someone to lend an ear.”

(re: Jess’s insane survival skills) “...You’ve got to teach me that/how to do that sometime.”

“You’re related to Dutch? Wow, that’s... kinda cool.”

“I thought I swore a lot, but... wow.”

“Yeah... I’m not one for small talk, either.”

In Combat

(to herself, stressed) “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph...”

“Aw shit...”

“Fucking Peggies!”

(to herself, quickly and quietly) “You will not fear the terror of night, nor the arrow that flies by day...”

“Let’s kick some Peggie ass!”

(to herself) “I can do all things through him who strengthens me...”

“May God have mercy on you.”

“I don’t think my soul is the one that needs saving!”

Driving

(hears ‘Oh John’ on the radio & starts humming along. After a couple seconds, realizes what she’s doing and shakes her head, murmuring to herself) “...Damnit...”

“I’m driving? If you say so.”

“ ‘Roads? Where we’re going, we don’t need... roads.’ “ (smug grin)

“I used to like driving. Found it kind of relaxing, most of the time. ...That was before I started having to get used to being pursued and chased down by Eden’s Gate trucks.”

“Time for... LUDICROUS SPEED!”

“Fasten your seatbelts... it’s going to be a bumpy ride!”

Idle

“...So...?”

“Everything okay? Do you need a break?”

“I don’t know if you’re aware, but I spent most of my life in New England - Connecticut, actually. Born and raised. I moved out to Hope County only a few years ago, when the Deputy job opened up. Thought it’d be... a ‘fresh start’. ...Definitely didn’t expect anything like all this to happen.”

“I used to roll my eyes - or want to - every time the Sheriff and the other Deps called me ‘Rookie’. They thought it was so funny, on account of my last name and all, and me being the newest addition to the department. Now that we’re all spread out and fighting against the cult... I think I kind of miss it.”

“Some of the most horrible things imaginable... have been done by people who claim they had ‘good reasons’ behind their actions.”

“There’s an old proverb that states, ‘Hell is full of good meanings, but heaven is full of good works’. ...There’s a lot of wisdom in that.”

“God has a reason for everything, even if we don’t always understand why...”

“The right thing to do is not always the easy thing to do...”

“Faith is believing in things when common sense tell you not to.“

“Imagine the things we could accomplish... if we would just try.”

“ ‘Fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate, hate leads to suffering.’ ...Make fun of me all you want, but it’s true.”

“I do love nature. ...You know... when it’s not being interrupted by religious idiots.”

“Courage isn’t the absence of fear... it’s deciding that something is more important than fear.”

Recruiting/Greeting

“I’ll do everything I can... you can count on it.”

“Good to see you again.”

“Let’s do this.”

“Stronger together!”

Dismissal

“Until we meet again - stay safe.”

“Call me if you need me.”

“Done already? Aww, you’re killin’ me, Smalls.”

Injured/Down

“God damnit... not yet...”

“FUCK!”

“This can’t be it...”

“I’m sorry... I tried...”

“I need some help!”

Revived/Assisted

“Thanks... now let’s teach these assholes a lesson they won’t soon forget.”

“Never tell me the odds!”

“Never give up, never surrender!”

“Thanks for the help!”

“Thanks... our work’s not done yet!”

Stealth

“Shh... ‘silence is golden’, remember?“

“Keep a low profile!”

“Be cautious...”

“Don’t let ‘em see you comin’...”

“ ‘Even a fool who keeps silent is considered wise...’ ”

Being aimed at

“Watch where you’re pointing that.”

“I’m a much better shot than I let on. Just remember that.”

“Two hits - me hitting you, and you hitting the ground. I suggest you aim elsewhere.”

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Location-Specific:

By any body of water: “When I lived in Connecticut, I loved seeing the ocean. The lakes in Montana can be beautiful, but... it’s not quite the same.”

The Henbane: “Freakin’ Bliss.” / “Please promise me... that you’ll never, ever let me end up like one of Faith’s Angels.” / “Exploiting people’s weaknesses and fears to get them to do what you want... it’s wrong on so many levels.” / “Rachel Jessop wasn’t the first, or even the second ‘Faith Seed’... I wonder if she’s ever afraid of ending up like them.” / “God wants people to follow him willingly, to choose to do good - not be forced into it with trickery and fear. Even if - in an insane world - Joseph was right, it doesn’t excuse the things that Eden’s Gate has done. If they have a message to spread, this isn’t the way to do it.”

Holland Valley: “Saying ‘Yes’ to everything doesn’t make you a better person.” / “Many people know the seven deadly sins... but few people can name - let alone even know about - the 'seven virtues': chastity, temperance, charity, diligence, patience, kindness, and humility. ...But you don’t see John tattooing those on people.” / John is... he’s done some horrible things. Committed heinous acts. But knowing the life he had to endure as a child when the Duncans adopted him... I hate so many of the things he’s done, but... part of me can’t help feeling sorry for him, too.” / “Underneath all those layers of ‘jackass’, way, waaaay deep down... I think there’s a lot of hurt and pain in John.”

The Whitetails: “Jacob acts like having feelings, friends, caring for things and people makes you weak. It’s just the opposite... having things to fight for - people to fight for - is a strength. More than just a ‘purpose’ - it’s a blessing.” / (angry) Jacob turning me into a weapon of destruction... he’s going to pay for that. / Forcing Bliss on animals to turn them into Judges... it’s wrong on multiple levels. / “I’m ‘weak’, Jacob? I’ll show you what a ‘weak’ person can do.”

#far cry 5 #fc5 #far cry 5 oc #fc5 oc #my oc #junior deputy #female deputy #deputy sarah rook #sarah rook #deputy rook #guns for hire #fangs for hire #travelling companions #fc5 dialogue #far cry 5 dialogue

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krisbeecream · 4 years

Text

Teach Me to be Brave Ch. 5

Read on AO3

The day whizzed by Manon in a blur of assignments and overheard excited chatter about Paris’ new dynamic duo. She moved from class to class without a thought, but the narrative of the students around her remained the same buzz of excitement and wonder. Before she knew it, the final bell was ringing, and it was time for her to take her leave and head home.

Emotionally, Manon was exhausted. Her body, of course, was largely unaffected by her gymnastic endeavors the night prior as a result of the magic in the suit. She found, however, that keeping up appearances and watching her every word very carefully to avoid any and all suspicion from her classmates was more weight than she was used to carrying on a daily basis.

“What’s for dinner tonight, then, Manon?” Remy elbowed Manon in the ribs to pull her from the mental fog she appeared to be lost in. The spunky brunette jolted and shook out her jumbled thoughts before turning to her best friend who was watching her pack up her things with a quirked eyebrow.

“Tonight’s menu features a Taleggio, Ham, and Cornichon baked croissant with a summer berry tossed salad accompaniment,” Manon declared in a fake fancy accent, putting on airs about her culinary creation-to-be. A strange, high-pitched, muffled whining noise was suddenly heard from the back corner of the room, and Manon turned to see Chris gripping something in the pocket of his black hoodie with all his might before he loudly coughed.

“What are you looking at, Chamack?” he bit, though the tips of his ears were tinging red with clear embarrassment. Manon rolled her eyes and turned back to her conversation without acknowledging the obnoxious boy.

“Chris, would you mind hanging back after class for a minute?” M. Agreste called out to him.

“Again?” Chris groaned. Manon couldn’t help herself, and she twisted around to stick her tongue out at him, hopeful that maybe their teacher had caught wind of his actions that day.

“God, my stomach is yowling. That’s either going to be really gross, or it’ll star in my hungry daydreams for weeks to come…” Remy grabbed the attention of his experimental chef bff again as he rubbed his stomach performatively.

“Who says you get any?” Manon scoffed, acting offended. Elise laughed her bright, sunshiney laugh as she hung off her boyfriend beside Manon.

“Your mom is lucky that she gets to try it! It’s definitely gonna be better than those bacon onion tempura lollipop abominations you brought for lunch yesterday.”

“When she bit into it, it brought a tear to my eye,” observed Remy. He dramatically brushed a finger across his bottom eyelid as if he were crying right then.

“Sometimes they’re hits, sometimes they’re misses! You still gotta take the shot,” Manon winked. All laughed as they slid their respective backpacks onto their shoulders and made to leave the room.

“Have a good evening, M. Agreste!” Manon called as they exited. Their spirited homeroom teacher looked up from his computer to smile warmly and wave to the trio.

“Goodnight, guys! Good luck on problem #6,” M. Agreste flashed a devilish grin at them, and Remy groaned in response. “Ready, Chris?”

The bully nodded reluctantly and headed for the front of the room as the teacher stood to close the door. Manon was silently disappointed that she didn’t get to hear the beginning of her rival being chewed out by an authority figure. She decided to try to watch his behavior tomorrow to see if he’d really given it to him.

The group of friends chatted casually on the stroll towards home, as they did every day after school. They all lived within the same neighborhood, so they were able to walk together most of the way before diverting onto their respective streets. Manon expounded on her recent trip to the produce market across town in search of the perfect, crisp cornichons she needed for her sandwiches. Elise updated the gang on her latest modern dance routine that she was cooking up for competition, flip-flopping on which moves were too complex for her to pull off in a fast-paced sequence like that. Remy filled them in on how his twin pet frogs were currently in a fight, refusing to occupy the same half of their tank at the same time. Manon suggested couples counseling.

“They’re not a couple, they’re brothers!” Remy shouted, his voice reverberating off the tall buildings surrounding the group of friends.

“That doesn’t always stop a relationship in the animal kingdom….” observed Elise.

“You are not allowed near Erlân and Ramón ever again.”

“Aw, come on! They love me!”

“Nuh uh. You’re a bad influence with those utterly impure frog thoughts you just aired.”

Manon rolled her eyes at her lovestruck besties as they bickered good-naturedly beside her. She loved them so, but thinking of that fact reminded her that, since last night, she was keeping a very large secret from them. Guilt quickly soured her mood.

“H-have a good night, guys. I’ll let you know how the croissants turn out! Maybe there will be enough leftovers for me to bring them for lunch tomorrow.” Manon tried to keep her voice even and cheerful as she turned rapidly down her street, breaking off from the group to hide her conflicted face.

“Oh, uh, bye, Manon!” Elise called at her rapidly retreating pal with a confused wave. She shrugged to Remy, and they continued walking and discussing frog technicalities.

“Are you feeling okay, Manon?” Tikki poked her little bulbous head out of Manon’s backpack to speak into her charge’s ear. A look of concern was plastered on her adorable face.

“Huh?” Manon startled, almost forgetting she had Tikki in there. “Sorry, Tikki. I just don’t like lying to people. It makes me feel… dirty.” The girl frowned.

“I’m sorry to hear that you’re upset, Manon. It’s a tough job to be a superhero, and it’s a lot of responsibility to have foisted on you all in an instant. However, Ladybug chose you because she knew that you could overcome the obstacles and thrive.” The kwami patted Manon’s shoulder with her tiny paw.

“That’s right! Ladybug chose me.” Manon looked confused, struck by the thought. “How does she assume these things about me? Do I know Ladybug?”

Tikki shook her head dismissively, “I am not allowed to speak the name of my previous owners to those who don’t already know it. It’s a magical spell placed on the Miraculous to protect secret identities if a kwami is captured, so don’t even ask,” she chuckled. “And anyway, I think maybe you should just get inside and look in your physics book.”

“I promise I’ll get the homework done, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Manon replied, twisting her head to look at the little bug creature over her shoulder with a curious quirked brow. “Science is usually my worst subject, but M. Agreste is a good teacher.”

Tikki shrugged and nodded. As they came upon Manon’s building, the girl keyed her code into the pad next to the front door and took the elevator to her floor. Once inside her apartment, she flopped her bag down on the couch and set about getting her dinner ingredients out of the fridge.

Tikki watched her new Chosen as she worked, a look of determination and excitement on the teen’s face like a great artist struck with inspiration. Manon turned the TV on for background noise, pulled out a cutting board, and began slicing up deli meat, cheese, and tiny pickles while the oven preheated. The brunette danced gracefully about the kitchen, pulling armfuls of sauces and liquids from the refrigerator, several spice jars from a tall cabinet, bowls from the dishwasher. Tikki caught the sparkle in Manon’s eye as she made various concoctions from citrus juices, vinegars, creams, seasonings, and oils in little bowls.

Twenty minutes later, the sandwiches were in the oven, roasting the croissants to a golden brown while the cheese melted. Manon wiped sweat from her thick brows and took down her hair from the ponytail she had tied it back into, shaking it out to her shoulder blades with a sigh.

“Phew. I hope this one works!”

“You look so alive while cooking! Is this a hobby of yours?” Tikki questioned, hovering over to the tired girl.

“Yeah!” Manon perked up instantly at the mention of her special interest. “I’ve been cooking things by myself since I was little, because my mom was always gone at night working. Over the years, I think my tastes have strayed from the norm, though…” she trailed off with a light giggle, reminiscing about the strange dishes she had come up with just in the last month.

“I think you have great taste,” Tikki beamed, “and I can’t wait to try a tiny bite of that sandwich when it’s done.” The hungry kwami rubbed her hands together and licked her lips, looking at the oven.

Manon laughed and felt herself relax slightly. She had really come to love cooking. Someday, she thought maybe she could open a restaurant, or maybe a bistro, to showcase her unique recipes. That is, if enough people actually liked them. She made a mental note to pinch off a tidbit of her sandwich to slip to Tikki during dinner later without her mother noticing.

Right on cue, Manon heard her mother’s key unlock the apartment door as the oven timer was about to ring out. Quickly telling Tikki to hide, Manon slipped on an oven mitt and pulled the tray out of the hot oven just as Nadja entered.

“Hey, Mom!” greeted Manon.

“Hi, Sweetie. How was school?” The pixie-haired talk show host replied to her daughter.

“Ah, nothing to write home about.” Manon shrugged, deciding not to vent about Chris and his goons today. She wanted to keep her spirits up to enjoy dinner.

“No new drama with that boy today?” Nadja asked anyway, like she had read Manon’s mind and decided to pry.

“Ahhh,” chuckled the girl, “He gave some trouble to Odette, the girl who got akumatized last night? She’s in my class.” With her face turned away from her mother, Manon frowned briefly as she glossed over the detail that she had been targeted by them as well, and may have even made herself an enemy of the group with just a few sentences.

“That’s a shame. I hope she didn’t let him get in her head. He seems too stupid for her to trouble herself with.” Nadja shook her head and looked up at the ceiling. She had heard plenty of earfuls about Chris Lahiffe and his jerky jock pals over the years, ramping up now that he and her daughter were in high school. Nadja had even had some talks with various teachers and Principal Mendeliev regarding the rambunctious behavior, but the problems always returned in time.

“Exactly, Mama. Plus, M. Agreste held him after school when we were leaving. Here’s hoping he got expelled!” Manon’s optimism was a bit misplaced in vengeance, but Nadja decided to let the girl have her fantasy. “And he seemed kinda jealous when he heard me talking about these sandwiches,” Manon grinned with pride as she plated the croissants and poured homemade dressing on the salad she had crafted. Nadja lit up, hunger in her eyes.

“You’re too good to me, Manon.”

. . . . . . . . . . . .

The croissants were a success in Manon’s book. She may sometimes find out that not every idea was as delicious in execution as it sounded in her head, but lately she had been right more often than wrong. Even Tikki agreed, having eagerly gobbled up the bite Manon offered to her when Nadja’s back was turned during dinner.

After the dishes were cleared, Manon packed the remaining few croissants into a container and slid it into her lunch bag for the next day. It was time to start her homework, she realized with a groan. The teen slung her backpack over her shoulder and marched into her bedroom to begin.

Flicking on the light, Manon was greeted with the comfy, familiar sight of her room. Three of the walls were an ashen grey color, accented by the fourth wall which was almost neon teal. Leaning against the accent wall was her dresser, tall and white with several keepsakes and curios on top such as Ladybug merchandise and little Japanese keychains made to look like miniature foods. A bookshelf stood proudly next to her queen-size bed, full of fiction novels about girls who go on adventures and participation trophies from various sports Manon had played as a child, but never exactly excelled at.

Her desk was triangular in shape, placed in the corner with a large, plush rolling chair at it. The great window beside it gave her a view of the streets below and the buildings surrounding, as the apartment was on the 7th floor. Manon placed herself elegantly in the chair as she tossed her bookbag onto the ground beside her before slumping and groaning at the idea of homework once more. She flicked on her lamp, which was clipped to the bookshelf between the desk and her bed in order to provide light to both.

As Manon flipped open the heavy textbook to read her first homework question, a yellow piece of paper stuck to the page caught her eye. Lifting it to catch the light, Manon read the mysterious note curiously. It seemed to be an address, though Manon didn’t recognize it, and a time, 8 p.m. Her heart leapt into her throat when she saw the initials in the bottom right corner:

“-L.B.”

Her eyes snapped to the clock on her bookshelf instantly. 7:36, it read. Manon’s golden eyes blew wide as she glanced rapidly between the note and the clock, urging her brain to form thoughts. Once she managed to push through her shock, she flipped open her personal laptop on the desk and speedily hopped on a navigation website. The walk time to the address was almost half an hour.

Manon stood before she even finished thinking, twisting her long hair into a braid lightning fast, two strands of cowlicked hair hanging loosely over her forehead as they always did when her hair was pulled back. The frantic girl grabbed her backpack and tore through the apartment to the front door.

“Are you going out, Manon?” Nadja turned around from where she sat on the couch to look at her fleeing daughter.

“Oh! Mom! Ah, yeah! Remy is having…” her mind blanked briefly, “relationship issues? With his frogs! Not Elise. We’re gonna help him! But I gotta go right now so bye!” Manon blew a kiss to her confused mother as she tugged on a light jacket to face the brisk evening ahead, and then she was gone.

Tikki floated along behind Manon down the hallway of the large building as the girl decided the stairs would be faster than the elevator. The kwami looked sheepish.

“Oh, right. I did tell you to check your physics book, didn’t I? Sorry, I got a little distracted by the food.”

#teach me to be brave #mlb #miraculous ladybug #manon chamack #mlb future fic #post-s3 #mlb fanfic #chris lahiffe

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fandom-collective-writers · 5 years

Text

Ieyasu x Reader

Title: "Better than Curry"

Fandom: Ikemen Sengoku

Character: Ieyasu Tokugawa

Genre: Modern AU

Warnings: Smut

Written by: @rikumorimachisgirl

A/N: His PoV

Other notes: Hope you like this, Anon!

Word count: 2,047

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I came home to an empty apartment a little past nine in the evening. Except for the pin lights by the door and at the corner of the living room where Wasabi's bed is set up, the whole place was dark.

'That's odd, ' I thought as I walked inside the quiet apartment I shared with my girlfriend. Usually, she would be sprawled on the couch munching on chips while reading one of her mangas or watching another one of those popular samurai dramas she's so crazy about. Whenever I'd come home, no matter how late it was, she'd be here - she'd just be here waiting - and then she'd take off like a madwoman and hold me like I was some prodigal child who had just returned after decades or something. I ran my fingers along with the backrest of the vacant couch and thought about how she would force me to sit beside her and listen to her go on and on about how her day went, despite knowing that I had also come home from a long day at the lab. I found myself smiling wryly at the memory of how pouty I usually was five minutes into her story. 'What the heck is wrong with me, ' I asked myself. Maybe I'm just hungry.

I moved to the kitchen, and gazed at the matching dinnerware she insisted on buying for us when we had first moved in together. I then wondered when we had last shared a meal together. Lately, I've been neck-deep in research on the new anti-Cancer drug that my boss has invested in, and my work hours have been longer than usual. 'She, on the other hand…'. Before I was able to complete that thought, my stomach growled loudly, Wasabi, who had just approached to greet me, scampered off. Sighing, I looked at the cupboard and fridge for the ingredients I needed to make nice, home-cooked curry rice. Surely, it couldn't be that hard - I had all the ingredients, so I'm just gonna mix them all up like she usually does. 'Easy peasy, ' I thought as I rolled up my sleeves and proceeded to cook.

Twenty minutes later, the fire alarm went off, and I heard someone hurry inside the apartment.

"Oh my God, Ieyasu!" My girlfriend called out to me with panic written all over her pretty face. "What happened here?"

"Nothing. " I shrugged, as I turned off the stove. "The fire alarm is so dramatic. I hardly burned the -"

"Are you crazy? There's smoke everywhere! Did you even turn the exhaust on?"

Ugh. Too many questions! I shot my girlfriend a sidelong glance to let her know she's yapping too much. She hasn't stopped talking and moving about, which is strange. She usually picks up my non-verbal cues pretty easily.

"Ieyasu!"

Her voice startled me, and I staggered back a little bit when I saw her staring at me up close. Immediately, I straightened up and looked at her smugly. "You're too loud."

"I'm sorry, but you weren't responding when I called out to you. I was offering to cook. You want to eat curry, right?"Judging by her clipped tone, I knew she was trying her best not to lose her cool. I also knew that in these instances, I should just keep quiet and let her be, but for some reason, I couldn't help but mutter, "It's about time" under my breath.

I sat by the counter and pretended to check my emails on my mobile while she busied herself in the kitchen. Despite having been together for over a year, I still couldn't bring myself to tell her that every little thing she does makes me happy - from caring for Wasabi to preparing packed lunches and making sure my clothes were freshly laundered and pressed every day.

As I watched her chop the potatoes she was going to use for my meal, I couldn't help but notice that something was amiss, and I quietly observed her find out what it was. Just as I was trying to figure out what was wrong, Wasabi calmly walked over to her and bumped her nose behind my busy girlfriend's leg.

"Oh, hello Wasabi, " she said, as she placed the knife on the chopping board and turned her attention to the sweet little deer behind her. "Have you eaten? I'm sorry I can't hang out with you yet…"

When she spoke, I realized it was the sound of her sweet voice that was missing the whole time. My girlfriend is a chatterbox - she always has a story to tell or something ridiculous to ask - but right now, her silence was unsettling. There were so many questions I wanted to ask - are you okay? Is there a problem? What's bothering you? Why don't you talk to me about it?

"Why'd you come home so late?" I decided to ask.

She stopped petting Wasabi, and I saw her waver for a bit before she met my gaze. She gave me a small smile, but I could see past that.

"Well?"

I saw her shoulders drop and knew something was wrong. She sighed. "Remember the promotion I applied for last month? Well, my boss told me I wasn't ready for it and gave it to someone else."

I never hated myself so much for not noticing sooner. My girlfriend - the love of my life - was feeling down, and there I was waiting for her to cook dinner for me. I'm such a jerk!

I rose from my seat and walked over to her and took her hand in mine. "I'm sorry."

"No, it's alright." She squeezed my hand and tried to put on a brave face. "Maybe he's right. Maybe I'm not ready for it…"

"Don't be too hard on yourself -"

"I wanted to move up so badly because I want you to be proud of me, " she said, as a stray tear fell down her cheek.

But she may have as well hit me in the gut. I stared at her, speechless for a couple of seconds before I held her in my arms. "What are you talking about? I'm proud of you, " I whispered to her hair as I held her close. "I'm always proud of you."

Dammit, how could she not know how proud I am? I wanted to shake her back to her senses so badly, but when I looked at her, I saw her staring back at me with so much longing in her eyes, I knew I had to do something. Fast.

I held her shoulders and looked into her eyes. "Listen to me, Princess, " I racked my brains to find the right words to say, and she held her breath. "I love you. You have no idea how good you make me feel…"

And that was the last thing I said before I cupped her face with my hands and claimed her mouth. I heard her gasp in surprise but didn't protest. When I felt her kiss me back, I decided to take it a step further and plunged my tongue into her mouth, probing and playing with hers. She responded in kind, and I walked us out of the kitchen, occasionally breaking our kiss to come up for air. I took her coat off and tossed it aside, and my fingers fumbled on the buttons of her blouse, as I tried to make quick work of it. I heard her giggle, and felt her hand over mine, as she helped me take the offending item off her without having to tear it apart.

I palmed her breasts and removed my mouth from hers so I could suck on her perfectly pink buds. I started with her right nipple, licking and sucking greedily until she moaned and bucked against me. I felt her hands rake through my hair, coaxing me to give her other nipple equal attention.

"Do you like that?"

"Yes, " she moaned, pulling my head closer to her breasts. "Baby don't stop…"

The back of her legs hit the couch and I carefully set her on it. "Just sit back, " I whispered before I knelt in front of her and guided her legs over my shoulders and nestled between them. The scent of her arousal called to me, and I didn't have to guess to figure out how wet she was. From this position, I could see her staring at me wide-eyed, her cheeks flushed and her hair slightly messy.

"Ieyas-"

Before she had a chance to finish what she was going to say, I pulled her panties aside and ran my tongue along her wet slit. After hearing her moan, I gently parted her folds and continued to lick her wetness. I felt her hands on my hair as she rocked her hips against my tongue, eager to get off.

"There, baby… right there, " I heard her say as I slowly trailed my tongue over her clit, looking at her as she threw her head back with her eyes closed, shamelessly rubbing her pussy on my face as she palmed her breasts, and pinched her nipples. "Ieyasu, please… I want… harder - more…"

"Are you close, Princess?" I asked in between French kissing her lower lips.

"Almost, baby… I'm -"

Without warning, I slipped my tongue inside her and ran my thumb over her clit. Her eyes flew wide open, and her toes curled as she let out a loud moan and I lapped on her juices as she continued to ride her orgasm.

As soon as she came down from her high, I sat back and admired her. My sweet girl looked flushed. Half-naked with her skirt pushed up, her undies still on, and the sheen of sweat on her lithe body, she looked a hundred times sexier than ever. I was aware of my arousal building up and my cock becoming hard under my trousers at the sight of my love looking so uninhibited.

"That was fantastic, " she said, still catching her breath.

I moved up and cupped the back of her neck with my hand. "You taste fantastic, " I said and kissed her hard once again, slipping my tongue in her mouth so she could taste her essence. When she sucked on my tongue and unzipped my trousers, I knew I was done for.

"Ieyasu, please…"

She didn't have to beg me a second time. My cock sprang to life as soon as I tugged my pants down. Tearing off her panties, I lifted her and positioned her on top of my throbbing member. She eagerly lowered herself on me, taking all of me in one swift motion.

"You're so wet, " I moaned.

"You're so big, " she responded before capturing my lips in a deep kiss. I placed my hands on her pelvis and guided her as she bounced up and down the length of my cock, slowly at first and then gradually increasing our pace. For a while, the only sounds we heard were the slapping of our skin against each other and our breathless moans.

She was close, I could tell. And I was close to spilling, too. We've never done it bare before, so I knew I had to pull out, but she made no move to stop.

"Princess, " I said, trying to catch my breath. "I'm close. I need to pull out -"

"No, " she said, grinding her hips against me, "I want you to cum inside me. Please…"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, " she said, before throwing her head back as she hit her orgasm. "Yes, yes, yes…"

I felt her clamp around my cock, and I followed shortly after, grunting as I shot my seed deep inside her.

As she came down from her high, she slumped against my chest and smiled. "Baby, " she said, as she peered at my face sleepily. "Sorry about dinner."

I laughed and kissed her lips lightly. "Doesn't matter, " I said, holding her tightly. "I had something much better than curry."

End.

#ikemen sengoku fanfic #ikesen fanfic #ikesen ieyasu #ieyasu x reader

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she-is-tim · 5 years

Text

P.S. I miss you | Elu Online friends AU | Ch.2

Previous Chapters: 1

It’s been since a month now that Eliott started to talk to this interesting boy on instagram. They get along well and it’s just a safe place for him to go back to when things are getting too much in his life. But january is here and he’s about to start at his new school. What he doesn’t expect is to bump into the person he’s been texting with. Suddenly Eliott’s life going upside down as he both tries to approach and avoid Lucas at the same time.

Face to Face

“So...” Idriss started, looking at the boy sitting on the bed with squinted eyes. “Why didn’t you tell him the truth again?”

Eliott let out a frustrated sigh, focusing his vision on the snake that was wrapping itself around his forearm. He rubbed his head and made silly faces at him. It was good for distraction, because he absolutely didn’t wanted to explain himself yet again. They were supposed to hang out because Sofiane will leave to Morocco next weekend to visit his family and will not come back for a whole month. There’s no point in bringing up his stupid crush on Lucas beautiful eyes Lallemant. An yet there they were again.

“Don’t be such a drama queen.” Idriss scoffed and kicked his bed from the chair he was sitting on. Sofiane was chilling next to him, leaning his hips to the desk, crossing his arms and just watching Eliott with analitical glances.

“I’m not a drama queen.” he huffed and poked the nose of his snake, giggling when it hissed back at him.

“Can you stop petting that thing?” Idriss screamed now, kicking the bed again. “You’re creeping me out.”

“His name is Nagini, and no.” Eliott said, looking at his friend with piercing eyes, letting his little buddy to slide on his shoulders and around his neck.

“If he doesn’t strangle you, I’ll do it myself.”

“Idriss, calm down.” Sofiane sighed, finally getting into the conversation. “We are just worried about you, Eliott. You really like this boy, don’t you? There is the chance to start something with him. Why aren’t you doing it?” he raised his eyebrows in question.

“Listen, he is most probably still closeted, it’s one thing to flirt online with someone through texts, but what if he would just push me away?” he asked with true concern in his voice. “I don’t wanna risk that, he is my safe place.” he mumbled, stroking the snake that was resting lazily on his shoulders.

“You don’t know that.” Sofiane sighed and sat down next to his friend, he wasn’t afraid of Nagini at all, he liked all kinds of animals. “Just give him a chance. If it doesn’t work out, then what’s the point in texting him anyways?” he said and it hurt Eliott how true his words were. He just quietly nodded, but deep inside he knew that he is not ready to tell the truth.

“Okay, now get rid of that freaking reptile and let’s go out somewhere.” Idriss said, now a big smile spreading on his face. Both boys giggled at him and Eliott got up from his bed to put Nagi back to his terrarium. He gave him food and then changed clothes, ready to leave his apartment with his friends.

His phone was buzzing once, twice. He hoped that it will stop, but it didn’t, so he groaned, opening his eyes as slowly as he could, fishing the device out from under his pillow, checking who was the brave person texting him at 9 in the morning on a fucking sunday. He jumped into sitting position like he was struck by lightning when he saw the username, unlocking his phone even quicker.

lucallemant Eliiiii Good morning Wake uuuup I need your attention, sir You know what? FUCK YOU

Eliott couldn’t suppress his laugh, leaning his back to the headboard of his bed, typing a reply to his impatient friend. Lucas was really one grumpy hedgehog, especially in the morning.

srodulv Why are you even awake?

lucallemant Aaaand he lives! Ladies and gentlemen, the man, the myth, the LEGEND

srodulv It’s sunday, Lucas I was sleeping So why are you awake?

lucallemant I was in church with my mom...

Eliott felt a sudden pain in his chest and cursed for not waking up earlier. He knew how hard it was for the boy to spend time with his mother and going to mass with her. He wasn’t religious at all, so the whole thing felt like a torture for him and Eliott could understand his feeling. He felt the same when he was forced to meet his therapist once a month, or every other week when he had an episode.

srodulv Please tell me you aren’t drunk

lucallemant I didn’t drink yet

srodulv Lucas...

lucallemant I know

srodulv Sorry for not waking up earlier though But I’m here now

lucallemant Don’t apologize I am the one being too clingy

srodulv You are definitely not too clingy Believe me

lucallemant Thanks ❤️

He sighed, looking at the ceiling. He wished that he could just pull the boy into his arms and hug him until he feels better. It was so fucking hard that he wasn’t able to comfort him physically, but he was afraid. It was one thing that Lucas accepted him with all his flaws, but he only had to deal with them through texting. He didn’t had to see Eliott cry in the corner, scratching red traces onto his arms, pulling his hair and yelling mean things. He wasn’t there when Eliott was in a depressed phase, ignoring everything and everyone, pushing away the ones that tried to help. He had no idea. He already had an ill mother to deal with, he wanted to spare him from having to deal with his shit too.

srodulv Take a shower You’ll feel better

lucallemant You’re just saying this, because you want me to take off my clothes

srodulv Guess I got busted I’m sure you have the finest ass in France

lucallemant Shut up

srodulv Make me~

lucallemant You cheeky bastard

srodulv It’s a part of my charm ;)

On monday Eliott was not ready to go to school, even less to face with Lucas. He just hoped that the boy forgot about him completely, since they like talked for a few minutes, shared one joint (with an annoying girl included) and had a staring contest at the common room meeting. Nothing to really remember of, right? He let out a deep sigh and wished he could have the courage of Sofiane, who was always ready to express his emotions and do incredible things once he made up his mind.

He walked into the school building, straight to his own locker, not even looking around if he could catch a glimpse of fluffy hair, baby blue eyes and sweet cherry lips. He swallowed and organized his books now at his opened locker, making sure he has everything in his bag that he needs before lunch. He was ready to leave when he saw Lucas walking towards his direction, so he just panicked and ran into the first room he found. As he closed the door behind himself, he had to face three confused girls glacing at him. One of them was more like thirsty than confused, but Eliott tried to get rid of that thought.

“Hey, girls.” he said just a tiny bit nervously, only now realizing that he was in the common room, judging by the awful mural on the wall.

“Hey, you were on the meeting last friday, right?” the blonde girl, Daphné if he remembers correctly asked him with a bright smile on her face.

“Oh yeah, I remember seeing you.” the girl with the blue hair. She fucking had pink wings on her white shoes, Eliott was impressed by that, he liked weird stuff. “I’m Alex.” she smiled widely.

“My name is Eliott, nice to meet you.” he said with a gentle smile.

“What can we do for you, Eliott?” the third girl asked, he remembers seeing her on Lucas’ instagram a couple times, she was Emma, the ex of his boy’s best friend.

“Nothing, really.” he said honestly and pointed at the door behind him. “I was just passing by and thought that I check in. How is the whole thing going?” he asked, looking around. The place was a complete mess, chairs and tables everywhere, big splatters of long dried paint on the floor. Plus the horrendous mural. He had no idea how Daphné could think this will be a place where students want to come and chill. He rather spend his time in a broom closet.

“We are working on it.” the blonde one said with so much enthusiasm it almost convinced the boy that this place can be something better. “I have big plans, but first is to cover the mural.” she said, cocking her head towards the wall, not bothering to look at it. Eliott could understand, he felt like those colorful letters were burning out his eyes the longer he looked at them.

“It is awful for sure.” Alexia nodded and looked around. “We will need some better furniture, these chairs are uncomfortable enough in classes, no one would want to sit in them while relaxing.” she pouted.

“Yeah, but like how could we afford any kind of furniture, Alexia? We have a really low budget for the common room project and painting the wall could cost a lot of money.” she sighed.

“I can help if you want.” Eliott said suddenly, drawing all the attention towards himself. He was glad that seemingly his self-confidence was only lacking when he was in Lucas’ vicinity. “I know a place where we can get cheap, but good quality paint, plus I can try making something cool with it.” he offered. Out of the three of them, Daphné looked the most excited, almost jumping onto the boy in front of her, but thankfully Alexia stopped her immediately. Eliott shot her a grateful look and she smirked at him.

“That is such a nice thing of you.” Daphné chimed, still having the bright smile on her face. “We will figure out things first, but I will contact you.” she said excitedly and handed Eliott her phone to type in his number. He took it and did just that, giving it back with a soft smile.

“But just for the record, I am helping because you girls look cool and funny. I am not trying to flirt.” he said on a serious tone, just to make things clear. He hated when some girls thought just because a guy is nice to you, he has to be in love with you. Alexia and Emma laughed at him, while Daphné looked just a little bit disappointed.

“It’s okay, dude.” the blue haired girl spoke. “Thank you for the help anyways. We need every working hand here. This place is a mess.” she sighed as she looked around.

“It’s going to be so beauiful soon.” said the blonde one with a dreamy smile on her face.

“I should get going, but we’ll be in touch, yeah?” he said now, smiling at the girls.

“Sure, thank you again, Eliott.” Daphné said smiling.

Eliott nodded and was ready to leave when the door opened, smacking him right in the face. He gasped and fell behind, grabbing a table to not land on the dirty floor, his backpack was hanging on his arm now and he was sure that he’s seeing stars. When his vision started to clear, all three girls rushing to him to help, asking questions, but the only face he could see was Lucas’. He looked so scared and worried, he wanted to say something, but he barely could focus his thoughts, head throbbing like he got hit by a bus.

“Fuck...” he mumbled, rubbing his free hand on his forehead, gladly not finding any bruises.

“Shit, I am so sorry!” He heard Lucas’ voice, desperate and sweet at the same time. He took a deep beath and looked at him.

“I’ll be fine,” he said honestly, the pain started to fade away, it was like remains of a bad headache, nothing more.

“I didn’t mean to... I should have been more careful with the door.” he mumbled, face turning into a painful expression.

“At least he’s not bleeding.” Alexia said, bringing in some positivity, which was appreciated by the taller boy, since he found it pretty hard to make up logical sentences.

“But you really should be careful, Lucas.” Emma said. “That is a thick metal door, you could have broken his nose or something.” she said with a wondering face, staring at Eliott like he’s part of an exhibition.

“Guys, I’m fine.” Eliott sighed and straightened up now, fighting back the dizziness he was feeling.

“I can take you to the nurse.” Lucas offered and he could feel his heart skipping a beat, his palms getting all sweaty. “I mean, I was the one smashing a door to your face.” he said with a nervous smile, scratching the back of his head.

“He is right, you should take a nap.” Daphné said on a serious tone now, pushing Eliott towards Lucas slowly. He panicked only a little, but was excited too at the same time. He just nodded without saying anything and followed Lucas out of the common room. Thankfully the girls stayed inside, Eliott had just enough of them. They were sweet and all, but when your head hurts like a bitch and your crush is right there in front of you, the least you want is three girls observing you with knowing eyes.

They walked quietly to the nursing room, Lucas staying right next to Eliott, keeping an eye on him in case he's going to faint. Most of the students were already in their classroom, so the halls were empty. The tall boy felt dizzy, but not just because of the head damage he got. It was hard to be so close to Lucas and not talk to him. He wanted to ask about what happened on the mass yesterday that upset him so much he needed to wake him up, how is he feeling today, but he couldn’t do it without busting himself. And he wasn’t ready for that, especially not after he got hit by a metal door.

When they reached their destination, Eliott stopped, turning around to face Lucas. He slid his hands into his pockets, feeling nervous, but he had to talk before they are parting ways. Taking a deep breath he started.

“Thanks for taking me here, I’ll be fine from now on.” he said, voice shaking just a little. Lucas looked into his eyes and he could still see a glimpse of guilt in them. “Hey, this isn’t your fault, okay?”

“Yeah, I still feel bad about it.” he shrugged and forced a little smile on his face.

“Last time I was the one smacking my head into yours, so I think we’re equal.” he smiled which seemed to make the boy relax a little too, his smile looking more honest.

“That’s true. You have a hard forehead for sure.” he mocked, playful sparks appearing in those beautiful eyes. Eliott loved to see him like this.

“Well, I’m going now.” he said, placing his hand on the doorknob of the nursing room, looking at the short boy with uncertainity.

“Yeah, take care an all.” Lucas smiled one more time before turning around and walking away. Eliott wanted to go after him, grab his arms and tell him the truth, but the resonable part of his mind was stronger.

He walked inside, explaining the school doctor what happened to him. She was really kind, even though she said some weird shit and let Eliott rest on the bed for a few hours. At least he could skip classes, which wasn’t so bad considering that lately he felt anxious and uncomfortable. Even if he had Alex by his side on most classes, he still couldn’t get used to all the new surroundings. Now that it came to his mind, he sent a quick message to his classmate to let him know that he is okay, just going to spent some time at the nursing room.

lucallemant I’m such a mess You will laugh at me

Eliott was surprised when he recieved the messages, but he also smiled like an idiot. His head wasn’t hurting so badly and the doctor was busy with organizing stuff in the storage, so he decided some texting won’t cause any trouble to him.

srodulv Try me

lucallemant I smacked someone in the face with a door I wanna bury myself

srodulv You can’t bury a national treasure And how did that even happen? Was that person talking shit about you?

He barely could hold back his laugh, because right now he wasn’t nervous, he was very much alive and active, ready to tease Lucas to death. It was the best thing, helped him through some dark phases during the holidays too.

lucallemant I just wanted to go to the common room There’s this girl, Chloé She’s totally into me because I once kissed her

srodulv EXCUSE ME?

lucallemant I was fucking wasted and she was the one pushing things on me

srodulv My heart is broken

lucallemant Drama Queen

srodulv You would like my friends, they keep saying the same shit to me

lucallemant I would love to join them and tease you all day long That sounds like fun

srodulv It’s not, they are annoying

lucallemant Oh, so now I’m annoying?

srodulv I was talking about them, not you.

lucallemant So, back to the topic about the guy and the door

srodulv I’m all ears

lucallemant So I wanted to hide from Chloé And as I entered the common room, I managed to hit the guy in the face with the door I was so embarrassed

srodulv lmao You are such a mess

lucallemant I knew you’d be laughing at me!

srodulv How wouldn’t I? You smacked someone with a door That’s hilarious

And he wasn’t lying, he found the whole situation hilarious, especially since he and Lucas both went to the common room because they tried to hide from someone. Eliott tried to avoid the short boy, while he wanted to get away from that Chloé girl. They were more alike than he would’ve thought.

lucallemant He’s in the nursing room now But the worst thing is it was the guy I met with on friday

srodulv And that’s bad because?

lucallemant Because he’s hot

srodulv So that’s what you value the most?

lucallemant Of course not, don’t be fucking childish But I’m not made of stone! If I see a hot guy, I melt Simple as that

srodulv What about me?

lucallemant I don’t know how you look like But I’m sure I would like you Even if you’re fat and bold

Eliott couldn’t suppress his victorious smirk. It might not be a bad idea to tell Lucas who he was actually. Things might change, but that’s not necessary a bad thing.

srodulv Ahw, you are so sweet ❤️

lucallemant I gotta go to class Talk later?

srodulv Talk later Have a nice day at school ❤️

lucallemant You too ❤️

Eliott spent almost three hours in the nursing room, then he went back to his classes. Alex was really happy to see him, giving him a bone-crushing hug as a greeting. It was a bit overwhelming, but also endearing, since Eliott still felt really insecure in this new environment, so Alex was like a safe spot for him. Especially since all he felt around Lucas right now was pure nervousness. But that might change soon, who knows.

At lunch he was sitting with Alex and some of his friends. He was mostly on his phone, waiting if Lucas wanted to chat with him, but it looked like the boy was busy. He looked around in the cafeteria, trying not to be too obvious, but he couldn’t see Lucas anywhere. When his eyes traveled back to the table, he met with his classmate’s shit-eating grin. He sighed.

“Okay, who is it?” Alex asked, just without playing around.

“What are you talking about?” he tried to play dumb, but he knew that Alex won’t buy his bullshit. He might be looking like an idiot sometimes, but he was actually very smart and observant.

“Eliott.” he tilted his head, tone demanding. The brunette sighed and ran his fingers through his hair a couple times, making a bigger mess out of it.

“I’m not telling you.” he muttered, not looking at his friend.

“Oh, so you’re not trusting me, huh?” he asked, raising his eyebrows so high that his hat slipped a bit back on his head.

“It’s not that. The situation is kinda complicated.” he explained, rubbing his face into his palms. “I don’t wanna bring mess into his life.”

“Okay, so it’s a boy.” Alex stated with a happy grin. “I had an idea that you’re not straight.” he said proudly which made Eliott smile.

“I don’t like labels, you know. If a person is good for me, then I’m into that person, simple as that.” he shrugged.

“That’s cool, dude.” he said with an honest smirk on his face. “And you don’t have to tell me anything, but if you need someone, I’m here.” he continued now on a serious tone, reaching out to squeeze Eliott’s shoulder gently. The boy just smiled and nodded, enjoying that little gesture. Alex really was a great guy.

After school he went for a little grocery shopping, since he was aware that his fridge and cupboards were nearly empty. He got cereal, milk, honey, tea, pasta, rice, eggs and everything else he could be needing. When he was packing out the stuff in the kitchen, he felt his phone buzzing. He put the milk in the fridge before checking it, not being surprised that it was a message from his sweet, sweet boy.

lucallemant I was thinking

srodulv Thinking? You? That’s some serious shit

lucallemant Oh, fuck off!

srodulv If I fuck off, then who are you gonna talk shit to?

lucallemant I’ll figure

srodulv So what were you going to tell me?

lucallemant You’re being an asshole I don’t wanna tell

srodulv Oh come on~ Lucas

Eliott sighed and leant his head on the fridge in front of him, smiling just a little. His little hedgehog was playing grumpy again. There wasn’t enough money on the world that he would pay just to see his face at this exact moment. It must be very cute.

srodulv Hey, tell me please Lucas~ My baby hedgehog~ I’m sorry, okay Lucaaaas

lucallemant Asshole...

Eliott smirked after posting the picture and decided to record a voice message too, it might be a bit dangerous considering that Lucas talked to him before, but he was hoping that his little hedgehog will be oblivious like always. He raised his phone to his mouth, whispering into the mic.

“Hey, my sweet baby hedgehog. I’m begging for your forgiveness and I promise I won’t be an asshole. Please forgive me. Kisses.” he whispered on a soft voice, making a smooch sound at the end, smirking like an idiot as he sent it. He was waiting in patience, but he was dying that he couldn’t see the boy’s face as he listens to the record. He literally jumped when he finally recieved a response.

lucallemant Fine I forgive you

srodulv ❤️

lucallemant That voice record was unnecessary though

srodulv Did you blush?

lucallemant Pffff No

srodulv You did, didn’t you? Ahhhwww ❤️

lucallemant You wanna start this over?

srodulv Nope, I’m listening

lucallemant So you remember when we talked about parallel universes, right?

srodulv Of course How could I forget

lucallemant I was thinking... How cool it would be if you had been transfered to our school We could hang out and all

srodulv How did that come from?

lucallemant I feel kinda lonely There are so many things that my friends don’t know

srodulv About your mom?

lucallemant About me That I’m gay... I mean, Yann might be suspecting something But I have never told them face to face

srodulv I think I have a confession to make

lucallemant What are you talking about?

srodulv Don’t be mad at me, okay?

lucallemant Why would I be mad?

Well, I almost gave you guys angst, but I decided to take this one to a lighter tone, making it more of a FUNfiction. So Elu flirting shamelessly still, Eliott got a door to his face, he met the girls, his friendship is forming with Alex! Make sure to leave comments in my inbox or on Ao3. And sorry that it took so long! Bisou

#Skam France #Elu Online friends AU #P.S. I miss you #Eliott Demaury #Lucas Lallemant #Elu #Eliott x Lucas #Le Gang

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fiinalgiirls · 4 years

Text

GENERAL INFORMATION.

full name - luz esperanza fuentes dedios nicknames - none gender / pronouns - she/her date of birth - august 12, 1990 place of birth - yakima, washington citizenship / ethnicity - american, irish, mexican religion - catholic socioeconomic status / political affiliation - working class; liberal. marital status - single, though may depend on verse. sexual & romantic orientation - bisexual. education / occupation - phd in bioarchaeology ( in progress ) languages - spanish, english, asl

FAMILY INFORMATION.

parents - dolores fuentes dedios and donald kennedy ( deceased ) siblings - jose fuentes dedios ( missing ) offspring - nayeli guadalupe esparza fuentes pets / other - none notable extended family - stepmother, linda ( married to dolores )

PHYSICAL INFORMATION.

faceclaim - lindsey morgan hair color / eye color - brown, brown. height / build - 5′6″ / athletic tattoos / piercings - earlobes x 2. a stick and poke ‘mi vida loca’ three dots on her hand from middle school. distinguishable features - big beautiful eyes and a muscular frame.

MEDICAL INFORMATION.

medical history - none. known allergies - none. visual impairment / hearing impairment - none. nicotine use / drug use / alcohol use - alcohol and marijuana on rare occasion.

PERSONALITY.

traits - tenacious, brave, compassionate ; juvenile, sensitive tropes - the ace, tomboyish ponytail, disappeared dad, brainy brunette, badass adorable. temperament - choleric alignment - chaotic good celtic tree zodiac - hazel, the knower mbti - enfp hogwarts house - gryffindor vice / virtue - envy / diligence likes / dislikes - sneakers, color-coded lecture notes, abuelita hot cocoa, basketball season, joggers, showering at the gym and stashing a gym bag in the back of her car, tamales with her mother in christmastime, la virgen de guadalupe / people who look down on others, dudes at the gym, science deniers, thunderstorms, sorting the recycling. quote - “i aim to be lion hearted, but my hands still shake and my voice isn’t quite loud enough.”

FAVORITES.

food - lucky charms or tacos al pastor drink - cafe au lait with cinnamon sprinkled on top pizza topping - pepperoni and olives with tabasco color - red / orange music - hip hop / r&b books - partner to the poor by paul farmer, parable of the sower / parable of the talents by octavia butler movies - friday, resident evil, black panther curse word - goddamn scents - mole on the stove, old spice deodorant

BIOGRAPHY,

trigger warning ⋯ death, apocalyptic themes, divorce

AEGEAN BRONZE AGE ( 3,000-2,000 BCE )

when luz is small, she hears the story of her birth a thousand times. she can recite it by heart. it is a perfect day in may and her mother dolores has been walking for days, tired of carrying around a belly so swollen with life that she is certain she could fit her own body inside of it. it has been five months since dolores has seen her husband and she does not think he’ll ever come home from some godforsaken war across the sea. the truth is that he never does–not even for his only daughter. donald kennedy dies alone on the same day his daughter luz takes her first breath after an arduous labor in the back of an ambulance on the way from pioneer park to saint mary medical center.

dolores tells the story as if she was in both places at once. at her husband’s side as a fatal bullet cut him down like a blade of grass and holding her own hand as she pushed and screamed on the rigid gurney. luz thinks that her mother must see everything. it is that childhood belief that protects her from the troubles that follow her cousins like black cats and shadows. it’s different as an only child, she knows that her mother has only one person in the whole wide world and she must live up to her mother’s need to be whole.

next door, the abandoned house sits behind a chain link fence. dozens of stone animals litter the yard and porch and it becomes young luz’s playground. she digs in the dirt, unburying hidden treasures and her cousins laugh and call her indiana jones. the book of greek myths her father left behind is never far from her mind and even as a small girl, luz knows she will walk in the colosseum and excavate along the mediterranean.

school is easy for luz who is an avid reader and an energetic learner. she quickly earns playful jeering from her cousins for being a pocha as she works hard to fit in. despite focusing on student government and basketball, luz is well regarded among her peers. she is the kind of girl that makes it hard not to like–an easy going, laid back girl with a jock’s ponytail and a sharp wit. the girl is made for something great and her mother works tirelessly to afford uniforms and ap textbooks. luz fuentes dedios is going somewhere.

dolores finds love again while luz is in middle school. linda is a woman like no other and she tends to her own son, jose, lovingly. he is a few years luz’s senior and goes to a charter school in oregon for the deaf, but they become as thick as thieves. the pair shoot hoops every weekend that jose’s in town and the little family feels more like home than it ever did before.

MINOAN PALATIAL PERIOD ( 2,600-1,400 BCE )

it’s not the dream she had far away in the esteemed halls of colleges like cambridge, oxford, or harvard. no, whitman college–so named for the whitman incident in which a missionary is forced to pay for his crimes and yet is remembered as the white hero–is just down the street from her modest childhood home. it’s strange, then, how different of a world it seems to her. the liberal arts college is not the place she belongs as she did in high school. it’s an entirely different world. she works in the cafeteria to offset the costs her scholarships don’t cover, plays basketball for the team, and has dinner with her mother every sunday if not more. it’s not a bad life.

the classroom and court are the places where luz feels like she can really be herself. pieces of her are lost in conversations among classmates that she does not relate to and she plunges herself head first into work and family, which is the most she’s ever known. when she finds her true calling, she’s paralyzed–they don’t offer a major in bioarchaeology. with the help of a couple of advisors, she makes her own–blending anthropology, biology, geology, and chemistry together in a blissful salve that mends even the deepest wounds gained in the thirst to prove that she can be everything her mother needs. her sacrifices will not be for nothing.

when she graduates, luz feels a whirlwind sense of accomplishment. she is accepted to field school in crete where she can study the minoan and mycenaean cultures to her heart’s content. it is there she develops her fascination with bones and death and focuses her interest on funerary archaeology–a subject she will study at length at the university of tennessee’s bioarchaeology doctoral program. she can sometimes hear her father calling her and she knows that she must reunite the dead with their loved ones.

THE HEROIC AGE ( 1,600-1,100 BCE )

on a quiet, hot summer night she falls in love with another doctoral student a few years her senior. they drink raki and let the waves and sand massage their weary feet. they return to tennessee and luz feels her stomach swelling with the prospect of life. rodrigo is a warm heart and though he is not prepared for fatherhood he takes to it, like he does with most things, with gusto. if there is apprehension in her heart it is quelled by the worry in her mother’s voice through the telephone lines–please tell me you are going to marry him, mija.luz fuentes dedios has never broken her mother’s heart.

nayeli guadalupe esparza is born, much like her mother, on a summer’s day and is named for rodrigo and luz’s grandmothers. luz holds her so tight that rodrigo is afraid she might break her. the young parents find that they love nayeli enough that it doesn’t matter if they love each other half as much. it won’t be long before they find out that they don’t love one another at all anymore.

weddings and motherhood do not stop a determined woman. luz knows that women have always persevered more obstacles than their male peers and she is determined to not let her dreams fall by the wayside. their lives are not easy–both spend long hours teaching and learning while preparing their own research. dolores moves from walla walla, selling their home by the house with the stone animal statues, the train tracks and the cornfield–which is now a burger king and a dollar tree. she does sewing and odd jobs while she cares for her granddaughter naya with her chubby cheeks and bright brown eyes.

in their final years, the couple move to crete to finish their research in the field. both grow tired of working, living, and raising a daughter together and the break-up is messy. nayeli is five years old when they realize they can no longer make their relationship work and when the grant money runs out, luz is forced to return to the united states to finish her doctoral thesis with no funding and no job prospects. rodrigo stays on at the research center and there is no arguing that naya is better off living with a parent who can provide for her. luz is crestfallen.

a friend from field school hits her up one lonely afternoon in tennessee where luz is drowning her sorrows in the bottom of a tequila bottle. melissa has focused her interests on the early settlements of nebraska and has secured a lovely grant investigating cave systems out of omaha. dolores agrees to move with her daughter into a two-bedroom apartment in the nebraskan city.

in her spare time, luz works on her own thesis, but pays for it with melissa’s paid post-doc position. the exploration reinvigorates her and she remembers how to breathe again. it’s hard to wake up everyday without braiding her daughter’s soft curls and listening to a giggling tale of the girl’s dreams from the night before. she misses greece and, on her worst days, she thinks she might even miss rodrigo.

THE MYCENAEAN PERIOD ( 1,300-1,000 BCE )

as things fall apart in europe, so does the spite behind the custody battle. luz has a stable income and home once again and, more than that, she has family and routine. rodrigo grows worried that the reports of sickness are more than just coincidence and as his anger melts it is replaced with guilt from having kept a daughter from a mother he knows would rip apart the moon itself for her. the phone sits warm in his hand after choking up and breaking down with luz on the other line, he sends his little girl to stay with her mother with the promise to move himself to omaha to finish his thesis when the research portion is complete. he never walks on u. s. soil again, but naya does.

the airport seems like a warzone when luz picks up her daughter, finally reunited she seems so much older in such a short span of time. they quickly settle into a routine, but as the time between phone calls from rodrigo grows, so does the sinking pit in her stomach. something is wrong in the world and it is spreading. some nights dolores wakes the apartment up wit nightmares about satan devouring the world and she says her mouth is full of sand. luz knows in her bones that something is slithering its way to devour their new found happiness and she feels helpless to stop it.

AFTER DECEMBER 25th, 2017,

DARK AGE OF GREECE ( 1,100-700 BCE )

even in the dead of winter, luz is driven into the snow by melissa’s work. a bootlegger’s cave on the edge of private farming property is in danger of flooding when the snows melt after irrigation plans by the owner have broken ground. they have a weekend to explore the caves and collect data before the owner completes the project and fills in the entrance and exit. with the stirrings and rumors of an epidemic, luz is reluctant to leave naya, dolores, and linda alone for a weekend, but her mother insists that the pair will do just fine.

they set off, three women and two men into the bowels of a harsh december, beneath dirt harder than stone. melissa takes point with dave, juan, and sarah close behind. luz and emily follow behind, both reluctant to disappear in the dank darkness disguised by pure fallen snow. while blood spills on christmas day red against the crystalline white, luz is not with her mothers and daughter making tamales and setting out milk and cookies for santa claus. instead she is regretting her commitment to her friendship while shivering in a seemingly endless bootleggers cave that had, more or less, proven to be a wash.

it’s not four hours in when dave, who had been looking sickly and pale since the beginning of the trip–and as luz suspected, had been vomiting up his dinner as he started to trail behind even emily–collapses over onto himself. luz had been avoiding him since they set out because he had seemed cagey and aggressive. unwilling to leave a man behind, emily and juan work to make an impromptu stretcher to bring him out while sarah stays faithfully by his side.

as he worsens, dave throws a scraggly punch at sarah and scratches the side of her cheek. inside the cave, screams are muffled and fear is suffocating. luz’s heart beats against her ear drums so loud that she worries they might burst. as they push forward in the cave system, melissa assures them that the exit is closer than the entrance, but dave rapidly deteriorates and sarah seems to be growing weaker now too. melissa is headstrong and determined that the trip not be in vain, but as the pair worsen, everyone agrees they must send someone for help. emily and juan stay behind with sarah and dave, while melissa luz head for the exit.

half an hour longer of walking has melissa and luz feeling no closer to the exit than before when the screams start behind them–magnified in volume by the cavernous acoustics of the bootlegger’s path. melissa and luz both want to check on their friends, but something primal within them tells them they must push forward and not backward. there are some sounds that, no matter how brave or kind a person is, will make you run.

it’s not a straight shot to the exit and the climb slows them down as their pursuer seems to keep a constant speed. there is the distinct sound of something wet against the cave floor; each thud makes her stomach turn. as they grow closer to the exit, she realizes that she does not hear melissa’s footfalls falling evenly behind her and turns as her friend calls out in surprise ‘dave, my god–’ as luz watches on, paralyzed by fear she is a stalagmite more than a woman.

when melissa lets out a hearty scream as dave bites into her throat, luz rushes to meet them and shoves dave to the ground. he is unrelenting and the face she can hardly make out in the darkness barely looks human. he doesn’t stop until she shoves her hand trowel through the back of his neck. it startles her how easily the blade slides through flesh. when her breathing regulates, she stands and finds melissa is dead on the ground.

THE GEOMETRIC PERIOD ( 900-700 BCE )

the drive back to town takes hours against the chaotic traffic and abandoned cars. hell rains down on omaha, nebraska like ash on the city of pompeii and the ground below even seems to shake with the force of mount vesuvius. all luz can think of is getting home to her mother and daughter and she curses herself for having ever listened to melissa in the first place. some stupid nsa sponsored project cost the lives of their entire research crew and maybe dolores and naya’s too. luz promises god that she will never put work before family again.

when she finally reaches their home, luz is horrified that the chaos outside has slithered its way into a home that still smells faintly of pork and chile california. there is blood sprayed across every surface of every room and dolores is nowhere to be found. clumsily formed letters spell out in blood on the kitchen wall by the calendar with little cats on it ‘lo sie–’ as an unfinished goodbye. naya does not come when called and luz collapses upon her daughter’s small bed–breathing in the smell of her as she sobs, unable to catch her breath.

beneath her desperate gasps for breath, she hears the small whine of a young girl from the closet door. behind it, naya emerges from her modest mountain of stuffed animals and screams when she sees her mother. the two fall into each other’s arms and then they fall apart. when the dust has cleared, luz packs bags for them both, says a prayer for her mother’s spirit ( wherever it may be ), and sets out in the path of a safe place. she finds that in the charles b. washington library, but for how long–only time will tell.

#luz.#⛏ ━━━ VISAGE ჻ luz fuentes dedios.#⛏ ━━━ CHARACTER STUDY ჻ luz fuentes dedios.#⛏ ━━━ AESTHETIC ჻ luz fuentes dedios.#⛏ ━━━ SOUNDTRACK ჻ luz fuentes dedios.#⛏ ━━━ THREADS ჻ luz fuentes dedios.#⛏ ━━━ CONNECTIONS ჻ luz fuentes dedios.#⛏ ━━━ WANTED ჻ luz fuentes dedios.#⛏ ━━━ RESOURCES ჻ luz fuentes dedios.#⛏ ━━━ WARDROBE ჻ luz fuentes dedios.

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