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morwensteelsheen · 3 years

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farawyn and borodred for the ship ask game thing?

thank you so much!! :)

okay i’ll start with borodred because for some unfathomable reason i actually got there first —

1. What made you ship it?

One of my favourite Types of ships is the Elder Statesmen Of War-type set-ups, where it’s less about people brought together through theatrical romantic gestures and more about the steadiness of people who are going through similar (immensely difficult) circumstances, who know that in their hearts they’re always going to put their duty to that cause first, but still seek out human comfort in other people who will understand what their priorities are and why.

I think there’s also a lot of similarities about the kind of helplessness they both face despite having this tremendous innate strength. Both of them still have to deal with family dynamics that are complex (made more complex by the war) and that can’t be fixed just by their own sheer will power; both of them die these utterly unnecessary deaths (not that death makes a ship but I think in this instance it actually points to the constant tragedy these guys face); and both of them are meant to be the principal figures of their families and people and are ultimately sidelined by the cruel mechanisations of war and the forward march of history or whatever wanky term there is for it — my apologies to ep thompson's ghost, dont haunt me bro.

Plus there’s obviously the interesting thread raised when Faramir starts bitching about Gondor and likens Gondor (and by very explicit extension, Boromir) to Rohan. That always made me go ‘Hmmmmmm, wonder what else Boromir liked about Rohan,’ lmao.

Anyways for me the ship is the equivalent of Star Wars’ Kanan and Hera or (my OTP to end all others) Luke and Wedge, just people getting by on love and duty and without big ol fancy romance.

2. What are your favorite things about the ship?

The fanon, I think, really makes it, as with so many other LOTR ships. battlefield manners, by themightypen is essentially the definitive take for me on them — these two guys who are just so fucking exhausted, man, but still overcome by defensive love for their families, even if their (foster-)siblings are naïve fools. That I just love, love, love. Plus I think they’re unique for their ability to pretty comfortable explore the relationship between Gondor & Rohan in advance of the Ring War without having to stray too far into AU, which I always appreciate.

3. Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?

Not really, tbh, except in that I don’t think Boromir is necessarily as laddy as people like to portray him. I’m happy to play into it in, say, my modern AUs because I think that’s a fun and sweet niche for him, but I am a bit 🤪 about Boromir as this kind of reckless, drunken playboy (not least because I think that’s a much funnier niche for Faramir to fill, at least when he’s younger). Chapter Four of Swaddledog’s Hearts and Minds gets my preferred Boromir characterisation absolutely spot on, I think.

And now, sigh, the ultimate OTP, Farawyn —

1. What made you ship it?

For starters, I think I am obsessed with Éowyn in a way I’ve never quite been obsessed with any other fictional character. I came to reading LOTR at this moment in my life where I was intensely frustrated about everything — trapped inside permanently (helplessly!) because of the pandemic, just starting a new political organisation that I truly believed in but that was still making me feel like shit, facing down an untenable about of work, and, fundamentally, really, really hating being a woman and what that means. And along comes Éowyn, who is bitter, who is cold, who is ANGRY, and who doesn’t perform joy or softness or gentleness just because people expect her to. She’s this seminal Woman Of War in so many ways, I think the kind of person a lot of us wish we could be. She’s got her emotional taps cut off at the source, she holds her head high and faces down unimaginable personal and political terrors, and at the end of it all still has this abiding love for her family that, I would argue, is almost unparalleled by anyone else in the book.

After all that, she gets this incredible moment of emotional catharsis (or what we expect to be emotional catharsis): “no living man am I!” She undertakes THE greatest martial act of the Ring War, and in that moment there’s this unbelievably sophisticated dialogue happening about gender (“Éowyn it was, and Dernhelm also”), and leadership (Merry finding his courage not because of the immediate scenario of the Witch-king, but because he’s spurred into it by Éowyn’s presence), and love and care.

And then we learn that no, actually, this glorious act of violence wasn’t the emotional catharsis we thought it would be. She gets to ride to war, she gets to throw herself headlong at death, and in the end that hopeless act of individualism isn’t really what does it for her. She’s still left desolate and despairing, and actually all of her problems haven’t gone away.

And then we need to rewind a bit, because along comes Faramir, who is gentle, and is kind, and does seem to believe in joy, but not because people expect it — actually it's made abundantly clear nobody expects it — but because it’s something quite innate to how he figures the world. And he’s a huge fucking nerd too. I have a lot of thoughts on Faramir’s flaws and why I find them endearing, which I won’t put here, but almost immediately you get this sense of a guy who’s quite melodramatic, good humoured, and very much not made to live in a time of war.

But he’s also clear-headed about war and what it requires (tactically, if not strategically, though that’s a post for another day), but who is kind of cynical and weary of it in his own unique way. And it’s a unique cynicism given his personal circumstances because he’s the second son of The great family of Gondor, he’s apparently — though with some big ol’ question marks hanging about the extent — very able to command some of the elite units in the realm, and what’s more than that, he’s got all these fantastical powers (the light mind reading to start, to say nothing of this apparently magical ability to command animals too. bruh.). By all accounts he should be this brazen hot mess, but he’s not. He’s desperate to claw his way out of this war-torn cage of expectation his people have for how a man should comport himself in time of war. Is it a little naïve? Sure. A little fussy? Absolutely. But does it point to that same desperation that Éowyn has? Yes! But also the practicality, like, neither of them are really enjoying the circumstances they live under, but good fucking god are they both able to Make It Work.

So finally we get to the Houses of Healing and what is the finest and most aggressively romantic writing of LOTR. Seriously, it’s so fucking much. It’s breathtaking. It reminds me quite viscerally of this fabulous quote from Les Mis:

The power of a glance has been so much abused in love stories, that it has come to be disbelieved in. Few people dare now to say that two beings have fallen in love because they have looked at each other. Yet it is in this way that love begins, and in this way only.

At some point I will devote more time to talking about the two reasons line, and the blissful Queen of Gondor speech, but I think to me that big, important line is: “And then her heart changed, or at least she understood it; and the winter passed, and the sun shone upon her.”

It’s not about Éowyn changing herself entirely (though, I think, it really does bear mentioning that she does change, and that’s every bit as important to understanding that scene as it is romantic), it’s about Éowyn coming to terms with how to live with herself as herself, and how to live in communion with someone else. She can’t just cut people out anymore, and she can’t just treat them as objects of infatuation as she did with Aragorn, she has to reckon with people as they are. And that’s sort of the moment where I knew I was about to plunge fully off the deep end with these two and never know a moments’ peace again, lmao.

2. What are your favorite things about the ship?

Someone on here once called Farawyn a love letter to women and, by god, yes, exactly that. I love the capacity for emotional intimacy, that is beautiful in ways I can’t express. To me, though, my favourite thing is the promise of life they speak of. Not as in oh they shag loads and have babies (though not opposed to that, obviously), but in the sense that unlike Aragorn and Arwen, who are always going to be buried under/burdened with the crushing weight of history and tradition, Éowyn and Faramir are going out yonder those hills and they’re going to do some real cottagecore farming shit. Obviously with all the trappings of rank and nobility and whatnot, but they, unique to anybody else in the books, get to sow this new idea of what life should be. They are, outside of Aragorn, the single most powerful people in Gondor. Éowyn’s got the ear of a king, a steward (which is essentially a prime-ministerial deal here), and functionally her own prince (if the hobbits are to be believed when they refer to it as essentially hers). I suspect that, in life, there were remarkably few arguments she wasn’t winning, and that Ithilien probably trended towards the jumped up noble hippie camp Tolkien so desperately wanted Oxford to be (or, in other words — Cambridge, lol).

3. Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?

Yeah, man, everybody stop treating Faramir like he’s a big fucking crybaby and Éowyn like she’s some kind of shrieking 2010-era tumblr girl.

One of the single most important lines defining Faramir’s character is when Denethor roasts his ass for always trying to appear noble and lordly, if you ignore every other piece of textual evidence we have about him, what part of that line makes you think Faramir’s some simpering daisy? And why would you want to link tremendous emotional intelligence and care with being too limp-wristed to function, lol??? Like I struggle loads with writing Faramir, because I have never once in my life tried to be noble or self-restrained, so find it hard to get into that mindset, but better, I think, to imagine him too closed off than to do this wilting flower song and dance lmao.

And stop making Éowyn out to be this over-emotional angst machine. She’s got problems, yes, and she’s sure as shit got a lot of angst, but at almost every point in the book where we’re overtly dealing with her emotions, she’s sublimating them into something else. One of the most serious times we see her cry is when she’s fighting with Aragorn about riding out, and after that moment she literally tries to kill herself. Those tears aren’t standard, man, that’s a real watershed (lol) moment for her. You have to read around what the text is saying to get a better feel why everybody’s constantly calling her cold and distant.

#god this is probably obnoxiously long because i can't do cuts on my phone #but refuse to open the tumblr website on my laptop lmao #faramir #éowyn #boromir #théodred #farawyn #borodred #god sorry for these fucking tags man im just trying to make my blog slightly more organised #i just have a lot of thoughts #i should really write more metas it would probably help my writing out quite a bit #asks #meta

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nicotinemaiden · 3 years

Text

Just found Heaven

I don't really care where I go when I die 'Cause I just found heaven

You can tell the devil that's he's wasting his time 'Cause I just found heaven

Sins washed away, dark turns to light If your body is a temple, take me inside

I feel no pain, pleasures of mine If you give me a taste of eternal life

[Daughtry]

Read on AO3 →

The second one, a promise.

It had been a couple of days since Shirayuki saw Obi for the last time, peacefully sleeping next to her after the night they shared together. That day, when she finally dragged herself out of bed - tired of the nightmares that told her she would never see him again - she buried herself in her work and didn't talk to anyone more than what was necessary. If she could she would only nod and keep working. It was the only way she could stop thinking.

The next day even the office they assigned to them during their stay seemed too quiet, too calm without him reading small excerpts of the books - interesting facts that may be useful someday Miss, he would say. Some were more useful than others and, of course, sometimes he read things only for her to blush profoundly and throw something at him - there really are things you shouldn't read out loud Obi, she would answer after that, an unhidden smile on her face hearing his laugh. She missed him too much for her own good.

The third day she was growing impatient. So much so she decided to ask Ryuu if he'd seen him. He looked at her confused and surprised, as if she just asked an obvious question, his eyes picking at her from behind the book he was reading today.

"Obi is on a reconnaissance mission on the Bergatt territory to prepare for the soiree of masked knights."

She grunted loudly. How did she forget about that? She was busy preparing the medicine for that same event, relying on trial and error a lot more than she intended.

"I don't think it will be too long until he's back, if that's any help."

Ryuu added, arching one eyebrow, clearly wondering what was wrong with her lately.

She muttered a low yes, of course, thank you before returning to her desk. The young boy kept staring at her for a moment until he returned to his studies, writing in a patch of paper on his own desk. That was - maybe, probably - a good idea. If she could not talk to Obi maybe it was time she talked to the person she less wanted to at the moment: The second prince of Clarines.

She grabbed a piece of paper from the first drawer and tipped her quill on the ink. Good, that was the easy part. She breathed before starting, her thoughts unclear as to what she wanted to write in the first place.

Dear Zen, - she started, feeling confident only in those two words - I know we just saw each other not so long ago - if she was being honest with herself, it had been like two weeks - but I need to see you as soon as…

She stopped herself, crossing out the last words. They sounded… desperate. And a lot more romantic than she needed it to be. At least that was what her head told her. She continued on the same paper, deciding it was best to make a draft and then cleaning it when her thoughts were sorted.

I have to see you, whenever you can, only if you have time, there's no rush.

She crossed out that line too. She was in a hurry. She needed to tell him as soon as possible. She couldn't keep feeling like this and he deserved to know. Yet at the same time she felt she had no right to say anything before talking to Obi.

Shirayuki used the quill to scratch her chin, thinking.

"How would you tell someone you have to talk to them and it's not good news?"

She asked to the air, feeling hopeless. She was always good at talking her mind… in person. It was a lot more difficult doing so via letter.

It took a moment for Ryuu to realize he was the only one who could answer and he seemed startled by the question.

"I-I don't think I'm the best person to ask about relationships with people."

He watched her sulk a bit in her chair, her eyes fixing on the paper. He wanted to ask what was happening, what were those bad news, but he also knew she would tell him when she was ready. He didn't want to pry in something that didn't concern him.

So he closed his book on the table, whipping with his hands little smudges of dust from the corners.

"But… I'll try to be honest."

His voice caught her attention again, her eyes now studying him.

"I'll say there's something important that I have to say and that I would prefer to do so in person. If the person you're writing to cares at least a little about you, they will understand."

She smiled, her ideas clearer in her head.

"Thank you so much Ryuu. I knew you could help me."

He blushed, as always, before opening his book again and returning to it.

Dear Zen, I'm sorry to bother you as I'm aware you are busy. You know I wouldn't unless I had a good reason to do it. And I do. I need to talk to you, in person. We need to talk. And it's not something I could write or you would already know what's troubling me. I hope we can talk soon and I wish for our reunion to be one as friends, as it has always been. Shirayuki.

Reading it for the tenth time, she felt confident. She had been able to write it neutral, kind of urgent and important. Just the right amount. She pushed it to the envelope and sealed it before leaving her office to send it. That little letter was the first step on clearing the mess she forged for herself. Soon, it will all be different, be it a bad different or a good different. In all honesty, it already was.

She turned a corner of the hall just to come face to face with Hisame and she almost hissed at him, wanting to run far away from him. She didn't hate him, didn't even blame him anymore for what happened, but that didn't mean she was fine with having a conversation with him at that exact moment.

"Miss Shirayuki. Always a pleasure to see you."

Can't say the same, she thought, pushing the rude words away from her throat.

"H-Hisame, good evening. I wasn't aware you were still here."

He brushed her words with a hand, shaking his head.

"I just arrived a couple hours ago. Just some business to take care of."

She nodded, hoping it wasn't as visible as she felt it the fact that she wanted to bolt from him.

"That remembers me… Where is your shadow today? Haven't seen him."

There was a glint in his eyes that told her he was asking for more than that, but she answered only to his words.

"He's on a mission, won't be around for a couple days. If you have something to say to him you could rely your message to me and I'll make sure he hears it the moment he returns. If you trust me with such things, of course."

She smiled, just a facade to hide her jitters.

"Oh, I would, of course. But that's not it. I was just curious as to if he was the one who left that mark on your neck. I have a bet to win, after all."

With those small words, she panicked. Her hand moved to her neck without warning, searching for it even when she knew she couldn't feel that kind of mark just with her touch. Had it been there the whole time? Did the whole mansion know what she had done? She hadn't felt it when he'd done it. Why would he leave something like that if this was supposed to be a secret? She hadn't looked at a mirror in a while more than some passing glances, she hadn't felt the need to. Now she regretted it. Her mind kept racing, wondering why Ryuu hadn't said anything to her about it, and forgot she was supposed to be talking. Clearly Hisame saw the sudden display of nerves and the whiteness of her face because he laughed softly in front of her.

"Don't you worry, young miss."

He emphasised her nickname, the one Obi had made already clear it was reserved for him, and it made her angry, knowing it wasn't him who used it.

"You have absolutely nothing in your neck. I just wanted to see if something happened."

He came closer to her, crouching a bit to bring his eyes to her eye level.

"And the amusing thing is: It did."

He laughed a bit more.

"I didn't think he'd have the guts. Congratulations."

"I'm not here to amuse you, Lord Hisame. So if you'll excuse me."

She backed away a step, hoping for him to shut up and let her pass. She has had enough and felt stupid for letting herself be tricked like this. But there was no point telling him it wasn't true. She knew her reaction told him everything he needed to know.

He studied her for a moment longer before straightening himself and moving slowly to the side. She started walking and stopped herself after hearing his voice again behind her.

"I wasn't joking, I honestly congratulate you. I've seen the look on your eyes when you look at each other. This… fake relationship thing you had going on wasn't as fake as you two pretended to believe. I'm just relieved to see you being honest with each other."

She smiled subtly, looking at him over her shoulder, and continued walking on.

Honest. That was the word that failed her. She hadn't been completely honest. She was just now starting to be. But she made herself a promise that she would be. She would tell him everything once he was with her again and she would hope that, after knowing everything she knew, he would stay with her. As a friend, at least.

Before returning to her room she sent the letter she worked so hard to put together, not feeling any better than before doing it.

The next day started worse than any other. The nightmares were unrelenting and the pain in her chest seemed to have expanded to her head, her arms, her legs… She awoke before dawn feeling utterly sick yet being unable to return to bed. Lightning a candle next to the vanity she sat there, doing nothing, for a long time. Once the fog of her mind cleared and her brain accepted that nightmares were just that - nightmares - she picked up her brush and tried to tame her wild hair. She had to at least give the impression of being a normal person today. And she was so close to finishing the medicine she was sure today was the day. She had to give it her all.

When she arrived at the office she was alone. It was too early for Ryuu, or too late. More than once had she arrived at the pharmacy just in time to wish him a good sleep after a sleepless night of work. In any case, first things first: She needed a painkiller remedy. Shirayuki looked at the cupboards and stands, inspecting them. She picked up three petals of bromelain - which should have provided a small relief - before she found a jar of turmeric and decided that mixing the two would prove more effective. She just needed to reach it. It was a common ingredient, why in the world would it be in the tallest rack she had no idea. It was possible that she mistook it for another spice but that color was characteristic and the other she knew were similar were also uncommon. Or used in the kitchen instead of a pharmacy. She decided it was worthless trying to explain when everything here was sorted in a manner she couldn't comprehend. She missed the order of her pharmacy.

She moved the ladder under it without much effort, grateful for its lightness. One, two, three… and four steps took her to reach the jar. Or would have if she hadn't slipped at the last one, freeing the ladder from her hands before it could fall with her. She was ready to hit the ground any moment but, just like every other time she fell since she first left Tanbarun, her fall was stopped by strong arms keeping her steady for a moment before releasing her on her feet. She could still feel the burning of her skin - or his - moments later, crashing with the cold she had been feeling these last days.

"I can't leave you alone and trust you wouldn't hurt yourself even for a moment, can I?"

He sighed but she could hear the playful notes on his voice even louder than the pumping of her heart, so that was something. He was there, now in front of her, a half smile on his lips and dark marks under his eyes, as if he hadn't slept at all since his departure. Seeing him made her forget completely the reason as to why was she reaching for the jar. The pain, the ache, completely evaporated.

"What a shame. It seems you shouldn't leave me alone at all in case this happens."

She panicked just after hearing herself and tried to hide it pointing to the stairs, making a move to step on it again. Just an excuse at this point - she had exactly the painkiller she needed, right in front of her. He stopped her with a hand on her back and, with a swift movement and just one step on the ladder he pointed at the jar until she nodded and he snatched it out of the shelf.

"How's the medicine coming?"

He asked casually, leaving the jar on the desk and ignoring completely her last attempt at flirting.

"Good."

She thought for a moment, still looking at him, admiring him.

"I mean, it's not ready yet, but almost. I've had… trouble, concentrating, that's it."

He nodded and they both looked away, an awkward silence between them. She had so much to say she lost the words to say them. Looking at him like that, his eyes gleaming with the red of dawn, his hand playing nervously with his hair, his lips a thin line - void of the playfulness that played in them before… She just needed to kiss him. She wasn't sure if that was a normal thought on their situation but she restrained herself after realizing she was moving closer to him. Obi sat on top of the desk, facing the window but looking at her again. She could feel he wanted to say something but wasn't sure how.

"Miss, I- / Obi, I -"

They spoke at the same time and paused at the same time, causing a giggle from her. At least they broke the ice. She decided, as much as she wanted to know what he would say, she needed to speak first.

"I'm sorry Obi. For last time. I should have spoken to you… before anything happened."

She looked away. What they did was natural yet she didn't have the confidence to talk about it as if it was nothing. Not when it happened between them .

"No Miss. I should be the one apologizing. Nothing should have happened. I'm sorry I didn't stop it when I had the chance."

Was he… regretting it? She needed to know. Preferably before pouring her heart at him just to have it drained.

"Do you regret it Obi? That night… Would you like to go back to make things differently, if you could?"

Part of her was afraid of the answer while another was growing annoyed and angrier. This was not exactly how she expected this encounter to go.

"Of course I would. Of course I regret it. How could I not?"

He looked at her as if expecting understanding, but she was just angry and hurt. Most of it directed at herself. It was her fault he regretted it, it was her fault he was looking at her with such hurt on his eyes.

"You heard me the next morning, did you not?"

He nodded and looked away as if embarrassed to admit it.

"I was just… figuring out my entire life."

She allowed herself a small smile knowing she had already figured it out.

“I know how it must have seemed to you, that’s why I needed to talk to you. I don’t…”

She breathed for a minute. This was her moment. She needed to be clear, to say everything that was on her mind once and for all. And so, returning her eyes to his, she started talking faster than she could think, almost not breathing.

“I don’t regret it. I don’t think I ever will. It wasn’t just some crazy night of alcohol and hormones. Well, mostly it was, because that’s the way our body works, but that wasn’t all. I wouldn’t have done it with anyone else. And I mean anyone. I thought it was a mistake. Yes, the next morning that was the first thing I thought. But not because of you! It was a mistake because of the situation. I should have realized things first and done later, not the other way around. But, again, I was so blind I think it had to be this way.”

She was pacing nervously, moving her hands just to have something to do with them, talking more to herself than to him at this point. And she couldn’t stop even if she wanted to. She was drowned in all the thoughts that crossed her mind lately.

“I feel horrible lying to Zen. I ain’t even lying because I hadn’t been able to talk to him yet. But I already felt this way before, the last time he kissed me when I thought I didn’t really want to. I just needed it to be over. I just let him kiss me because it was safe, it was what I’ve known for years. And I was so afraid when my heart stood at the same pace while I was with him. I was calm yet nervous. I should have known then as I know now. But I didn’t. And now I feel I’ve been lying to every last person in my life, myself included. I had a path I was sure to follow, everything just to be at his side, and now I’m not even sur-”

She stopped suddenly when she felt his arms around her, burning away every word left on her throat.

“Breathe, Miss. I almost couldn’t catch half the things you wanted to say.”

And she did. She closed her eyes for a moment, hugging him back, and buried herself in his smell. Everytime she was like this she felt lost in a forest at night, a warm bonfire at her side, plants and flowers surrounding her. It was the safest place in the world, his arms. She had thought about it before but never had she seen it so clearly.

“This is exactly what I was trying to say.”

She looked up to his face, a smile wide on hers.

“Usually it’s shorter to say ‘I need a hug’”

And she hit him then, punching his arm with all the strength she could muster. But he saw something in her eyes, in her smile, because as soon as she lowered her hand he brought her closer again and kissed her. Without so much as another word. It was slow and warm and she was kissing him back before even giving the order to her body. It wasn’t the first time they kissed but it felt like it. It was the first time she could do so knowing full well that it was what she wanted, what they wanted. And this time - contrary to the night they spent together - it was him who kissed her. He didn’t run away, he didn’t put a wall between them, he wasn’t telling her it was a stupid decision. No. He was kissing her and she… she was crying. Because she hadn’t felt so right in all her life. It was as if all of her - really - stupid decisions brought her to this moment. To the moment in her life when everything clicked. All the times she had to endure the touches and sinful words of the drunkards in her grandparents bar, all the unwanted attention on the streets, at her own home. All the times she thought she was weird, an exotic gem, something - not someone - to decorate the room with. You don’t need to hate it, it’s part of you, but it’s not you. You’re so much more. He was the first one to encourage her to show it, not hide it. He always wanted her to be herself - not more calm, not more smiling, not more reserved. If she jumped out a tower he would jump with her, not wait to tell her she was being reckless. She paused for a moment, her entire being, the kiss, her thoughts.

“I love you, Obi. I’m sorry it took me so long to realize. And I’m sorry I made you think you were the problem when I was.”

It was the first time she actually saw him trip over the desk, catching himself in time to sit gracefully on top of it. She smiled, biting her lower lip. It wasn’t a bad shock, she could tell because he was smiling even wider than her, even when he didn't seem to notice. If she was going to keep getting reactions like that or like their kiss, she should keep talking. But he didn’t give her time to.

“Mis-”

He interrupted himself immediately, changing his wording.

“Shirayuki, you were never the problem. I was… really scared that morning too. I was absolutely sure you were going to, I don’t know, tell me that it was the worst decision of your life and that you never wanted to even look at me again. I was terrified thinking that maybe you were right and I had broken our friendship forever. And, of course, everything went south when I heard you, crying.”

Even knowing it wasn’t exactly that what caused her crying it still pained him. She could see it in the golden orbs that fixed on her.

“I had to do this mission but I was ready to leave. I wanted to talk to you, to apologize and pack my things afterwards. Instead, the first thing you say to me today? Hey maybe you shouldn’t leave anymore. How- What- You know how confusing it is coming back believing it will be the last time I see you only for you to tell me that?”

And they laughed, because that was the thing they did most when they were together. Worrying about one another and laughing.

“I’m sorry for that too. I just kept having these nightmares where you would go and never come back without even hearing what I had to say. I just needed to tell you. I won’t make you stay, unless you want to.”

He picked her up easily, her legs holding her to his body and her arms up on his shoulders, and kissed her again. Maybe it was the kisses who told her or the little smiles between them. Maybe it was the bigger smiles or the way her arms got up and her upper-body followed back, laughing to the sky - or to the ceiling, to be more accurate. Or maybe it was the way his hand pressed down her back, bringing her to him again just before she heard every word she needed to hear.

“I love you Shirayuki. And, for as long as you’ll have me, I’ll be here.”

She stopped her laughs and smiles and lowered herself to the ground, looking at him so seriously he seemed startled.

“Would you say that again?"

Shirayuki could swear he was blushing. He was. And she enjoyed it as much as she could for the brief moment it lasted.

"I love you. I've loved you for so long I feel I'm dreaming. I think I'm just saying these things because I'm waiting to wake up at any moment."

The feeling, that unnamed feeling in her heart, so warm, filing her chest with a strange kind of pain. One that hurt but wasn't bad. It was as if someone was gripping her heart with all its strength, so much so she was afraid it would explode. Yet at the same time she felt incomplete without that pressure. She never wanted to feel so empty again.

She brought her hand to her chest without thinking, taking in the universe that was originating inside of her. She had been afraid of many things in her life, never so much as to stop her from doing what she thought was right but she wasn't new to the feeling. Yet at that moment she was terrified. Terrified something would happen that would tear everything from her. Was it normal that, at the happiest moment of her life, all she could think about for a moment was how she feared to lose it?

And then it happened again. He touched her arm - a little pressure to remind her he was there - and smiled while lowering his hand to hers. He didn't say anything, didn't need to.

He was with her.

He was hers .

And if there was something everyone knew about them was that, while together, they could do anything - and so, so much more.

#hey nicotine maiden here wishing you all a good reading!#hope you like it #mistake series #mistakeseries #mistakeseries2 #Akagami no Shirayukihime #ans #obiyuki #Obi x Shirayuki #mywork #fanfic #posted on ao3

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writingsbychlo · 4 years

Text

more ways than one (08)

word count; 7323

summary; a further look into his past reveals some secrets he never wanted to acknowledge, and a new pathways forwards after his death.

notes; I know the warnings might freak you out, but bear with me, okay?

warnings; reference to death, gore, violence, mentions of suicide, adultery, abuse, mentions of self-harm, torture and mentions of depression.

You felt numb and hollow, your fingers brushing the hair out of his eyes as you looked down at his body on the ground. The pack had been working around you for days, cleaning up the mess that had been the loft, and while you knew it was wrong - borderline creepy - you weren’t really sure what to do with the man before you.

What exactly did one do with a dead angel?

If he was decomposing, the wolves would be able to smell him by now, and yet he was exactly the same, his skin was paler but he still looked at peace, simply as if he was asleep, and you smoothed your fingers over the lines in his forehead, hoping to rub them away delicately with the pad of your thumb.

You were all cried out over the boy on the floor, your eyes were stinging, your skin was raw from tears, and your throat sore, and now you just felt hollow. Like he’s been a part of you, and something within yourself had died when he did. His skin was cold to the touch, and he almost looked as though he’d been chiselled from marble, a perfect creation that would remain untarnished for a millennia. His fingers, the ones that remained, would blow in the breeze each time the door opened, and you pulled your knees up to your chest as you sat beside him on the uncomfortable floor, crossing your arms across the tops of your legs and resting your cheek upon them as you simply watched him.

He had changed you monumentally, you may have saved him but he had saved you too. You had felt hopeless, useless and utterly lifeless before he had come along, something had always felt missing and with him, you felt as though that spark for life and passion had come back. You had your friends, who were more like family at this point, and yet he had made you feel more complete, like you finally had everything you needed in life.

You wanted to bury him, to put him to rest and let him be, to make him a beautiful grave that you could visit and thank him for each time you remembered the reason you were alive was because of his selfless bravery, and yet you still had no idea how he would want his life to have been celebrated, how it should be, you knew nothing, because you had never had the chance to ask.

A hand landed on your shoulder, and you looked up, a familiar face with warm whiskey-coloured eyes peering down at you as he squeezed comfortingly, and he took a seat beside you, wrapping an arm over your shoulders and holding you tight as your face pressed into his neck, muffling your sniffle of sadness.

“I really cared about him, Stiles.”

“I know you did, sweetheart. He saved my life too, y’know. He was a pretty cool guy, even if he did let me get possessed.” You let out a watery laugh into his skin, but you soon cut it off, hiccuping back a sob. He rubbed his hand up and down your back, trying to ease your aching heart as he watched you mourn for the man you cared so deeply for, the man you may have even loved, as he lay dead on the floor having sacrificed his life for you.

“I miss him.”

“I know.” He pressed a chaste kiss to your skin, scattering you hairline and temple with the sweet affections as he did his best to comfort you, and your hands gripped his shirt.

“I want him back, Stiles, there’s so much I never got to say to him.” He shushed your erratic mumbles, soothing you delicately as you hid your splotchy and wet face in his shoulder. “I wanted to show him the world, I wanted to show him everything that was amazing in the world.”

You coughed to clear your throat, feeling your body shaky, and a pair of arms hooked under your legs, pulling you away from Stiles, your head snapping up, a scowl on your lips as you looked at Derek, pushing against his chest angrily and his arms only tightened around you.

“Put me down, Hale! Let me fucking go!”

Yoe scratched at the arms holding you, and he hissed at you did, the wounds quickly healing but he never let up as he walked towards the spiral staircase in the room, and you caught sight of all the sad eyes watching you go, the pack looking on remorsefully as you were carried upstairs.

“Derek, please, I need to be with him!”

“You’ve been sat there for two days, it isn’t healthy. You need to sleep.” He dropped you down on the bed, frowning at you in a way that didn’t read as anger but more of concern and brotherly love, and you fell back into the pillows as he effortlessly tugged the blankets out from underneath you, dragging them up and over your body as the hand on your shoulder pushed you to lie down. You protested, but only for a second, before a yawn was cutting you off, and he chuckled down at you as he crossed his arms. “Exactly. You’re tired. I’ll be downstairs, okay? Please, get some sleep.”

He drew the curtains, the darkness only making you more tired, and the cosiness of the bed was really drawing you in, and so you pressed your cheek into the pillow beneath you, silence encasing you as the door clicked shut softly, footsteps receding until the only sound was your light breathing and your steadily beating heart.

Within only a few moments, darkness was taking you over, and you let it, sinking into the sweet relief of unconsciousness, as it temporarily relieved your guilt and lifted the weight that was crushing your heart, even it would only be for a little while, because as the darkness took you in, you finally felt like you would get some peace too.

Pride

There he was, watching himself, like something from ‘A Christmas Carol’ as he watched his own actions from another perspective. He could remember this particular moment clearly, his previous self chuckling away as he watched his charge of the time march an army into battle, despite knowing that they would lose. He was invested, he was prideful, and he wanted to win the game, because it was during this time that human life had seemed as trivial as a board game to him. He felt nausea twisting in his gut, knowing that if he was going to relive his life, have it flash before his eyes, it wasn’t going to be something he would be proud of, something he’d have wanted to share.

His head pounded, so painfully his eyes closed for a split second, before he was opening them once again as the pain dissipated, and now he was seeing something new, a different moment. It was the day you’d had your breakdown, the first and only big argument the two of you had ever had, and he watched on as he swallowed down his own ego and pride to come back to you, after sulking in the woods for a while, and despite knowing how this oh-so-recent memory played out, his heart was still racing in his chest as he watched you drop to your knees, clutching at your chest as you struggled to breathe.

His own eyes watered as he watched you, your body trembling so violently he thought your teeth may crack, curled up on the floor as you struggled to contain yourself. He wasn’t there yet, his previous self, and he reached out a hand to touch you, to ease you, seeing you in pain only making him feel worse. His hand was placed on your arm, and yet, he couldn’t feel you, he couldn't do anything to help, and his chest felt like he was the one who couldn’t breathe as he watched you suffer. Finally, he watched himself stumble into the room, and at that moment he’d never been so grateful that he’d been able to come back to you despite the argument, despite knowing he’d been in the right and you’d been in the wrong, because you ha needed him, and as his counterpart scooped you up as he remembered doing so clearly, he felt slightly more at ease.

Gluttony

He merely blinked, before the room was gone was again, and he spun around on his heel, panicked as he searched for you, and the loft he was so familiar with was now simply a long white corridor, no end in sight in either direction but exactly where he stood were doors, four on either side of him. He wasn’t nearly as lucky as ‘Ebenezer Scrooge’ had been, he didn’t get a guide, or someone to show him the way, he got nothing at all. Instead, he was standing in a large corridor, so gleamingly white and pristine that it almost made his eyes sting, and he took in the doors before him.

Six of the eight doors were hanging open, just a crack, not enough to give him a glimpse of what lay inside, the lights out in each. One door, the door labelled ‘pride’ was tightly closed, and he sighed, running his fingers over the wood carefully. The other closed door was unlabelled, this one had a lock on it, and he suspected it to be sealed, not that he was expecting anything good to lay on the other side, in fact, he assumed that to be where his fate lay.

Looking to the next closest door, he read the words carved into a golden plaque across the front, a frown pulling on his lips as he placed his palm flat on the wood and stepped into the room. Before him, he was presented with the loft, two scenes simultaneously laid out before him. One was himself, sitting at a large table with more food, wine and varied delicacies than he could possibly imagine, his feet popped up on the table as he stuffed himself full, never sparing even a scrap to the other dining places around his table. It wasn’t something he was unfamiliar with, he’d never been one to share, if he had it then he wanted it, and if he didn’t want it he’d rather it go to waste than for someone else to enjoy it.

He was scowling at his former self when your giggle cut through the reverie, his head snapping to the side as he watched you struggle to pour yourself a glass of pop while laughing, a movie he remembered you promising him was good flickering across the TV screen silently, a box of pizza with one slice remaining in it, and you were looking straight at him. This version of you could see him, and he made his way over to the couch tentatively, taking a seat beside you as you watched him.

You were still smiling, offering him half of the blanket you were snuggled under as you tucked it over his lap, and despite the fact you could see him, he still couldn't feel your hands on him as you smoothed the soft fabric down around him. He used his foot to push the box towards you, his stomach rumbling hungry, clenching in hunger as he looked at the final steaming piece of pizza, but he offered it to you anyway, knowing just how much you loved it.

You had split it, sharing the final piece with him as you held it out to him. It had been messy, bits of cheese and sauce dripping from the torn slice, and he’d had to dangle it over his head just to be able to eat and catch any pieces that fell, but it had been worth it. You had both ended up with greasy fingers and sauce all over your face, but he would much rather have shared with you and gone hungry then have eaten it all himself and been satisfied.

It was one of his fonder memories, of being with you and getting to take part in such an intimate time, and despite knowing it would have no effect, he placed a hand over your cheek in his memory, his thumb smoothing over your cheekbone. It was as though the second he tried to interact with you in a way that wasn’t a part of his lesson to learn that everything came crashing down. You were gone, in front of his eyes you slipped away, his arm dropping down to the couch, and the room trembled as cracks formed along the concrete.

He stood up quickly, the room shaking, and his eyes widened as the building began to fall away before his eyes. Nothing but an empty black void filled the space as the loft crumbled away, and he stumbled backwards, watching the tv, the couch, the blanket you had once been sharing all fall away into oblivion as he fell over his own feet towards the loft door.

He moved back through the door in such a rush that he barely registered the flash of the white corridor before his eyes, before he was falling through the door on his other side, landing on his back with a huff, a groan on his lips as he felt winded.

Greed

Feet rushed past on either side of his head, stepping over him and telling him to move, and he found himself on the floor outside of an office building, one he recognised from the late nineties. This was the charge he’d had just before he’d been assigned to Stiles, somewhere at this very moment, Claudia Stilinski had been in labour, giving birth to a boy that would change his own life without even knowing it.

At this moment though, his previous self had been distracted, never once making any moves to stop that path he had sent his charge down. This was the day he was assigned to Stiles Stilinski, because this was the day he let the man he’d been guarding before take his own life. His fingers wrapped around the handle, the door to the office not budging in the slightest, and he banged his hands on the wood, ramming at it with his shoulder, doing anything and everything he could to get into the office. Everyone else in the building could see him, he was getting odd looks and murmured whispers as he screamed as best he could, his eyes widened as he watched through the glass, seeing the man sitting at the desk, neatly arranging the photo frames of his family as he tidied away his belongings and left a neat desk.

This was the same man he’d allowed to embezzle almost $60,000 from a charity organisation, just because he had wanted to see what would happen. He remembered the sick feeling of satisfaction he’d had upon guiding him down a path of greed and fraud, and he remembered himself suddenly being assigned a new charge, never having been bothered to even find out what had happened to this one.

The gun laying on his desk was enough to tell him, the simple way that he was humming as he readied himself to die, and his back hit the wood as he slid to the floor, covering his ears and screaming loudly as the solid wall behind him shook with the loud bang that had gone off, the silence of the office building encasing him before screaming had taken up.

Tears were spilling down his cheeks, and he didn’t have to be shown anything this time, as you were already the only thing flashing through his mind. All the times he’d put your needs ahead of his, all the times he’d put your happiness before his own, all the times you’d meant more to him than anything he needed or wanted possibly could, as he tried to bury the guilt of the actions that had just taken place behind him.

Bodies hustled around him, someone fumbling with a set of keys as they tried to get the locked door open, and he fell backwards through it the second it opened, the smell of printer ink and metallic blood washing away as he rolled form stingy office carpet and back to the pristine tiles of the corridor of his reckoning.

The door slammed loudly behind him, just like the other two, and he lay on the ground, panting for only a second, before eventually dragging himself back up to his feet.

Lust

The atmosphere was already one that sickened him, and it was different from the rest. It was older, perhaps by a hundred or so years, and his body felt heavier as he tried to move. He felt like he could barely lift his legs, like he was weighed down to the ground, and with every step he took, it was harder and harder for him to move. This was perhaps the 1700’s, a time when he’d taken a particular liking to bending certain rules, adultery being one of them. He recognised the areas surrounding him, and he felt like a knife was twisting in his gut when a familiar-sounding laugh and voice, muffled from the door he’d entered through got clearer and clearer.

Large, meaty hands were sitting on your body, lips pushing against your own as you were backed into the room towards the bed, the man he’d been controlling already pulling at the strings of your corset, and anger flooded his system. He screamed, screamed and shouted and begged for it to stop until his throat had burned and his face had been red, before he'd pushed his hands over his ears and closed his eyes, and ignored the fact that he was being shown an illusion, something to hurt him.

He didn’t want anyone else’s hands on you, he didn’t want anyone else’s lips on you, he wanted you to be able to choose. Despite how much he’d been wanting to hold you, to kiss you, he’d always done his best to leave that to you, to let you make the first moves, he wanted it to go at your pace, and he hated the idea of someone else getting to touch you and hold you in a way that was meaningless, in a way that meant nothing other than some quick entertainment just because you were there.

You were so much more to him than just a lustful distraction.

With everything he had within him, he dragged himself to the door, it grew harder and harder, his fingertips bleeding and body aching as he pulled himself out of the room, not wanting to be present to such an illusion, to such a punishment, even if he did deserve it.

Sloth

The pain in his body seemed to slip away, and he almost felt like he’d stepped into something wonderful. This room was different, he wasn’t present like he was in the other, instead, he felt as though he was looking through a scrapbook. The room was stacked high with papers, each one holding a different task that he had failed to complete, another assignment or challenge, another duty he had neglected, the stacks reached the roof, papers covering the floor as he walked and stepped on the memories.

Sitting on the stacks, dotted around the room, hung on walls and lying on the floor were picture frames, and he navigated his way past the painful reminders of everything he had failed at, choosing to pick up a photo frame. It held a brief memory, playing out as he looked back on the time you’d taught him to cook, and he’d gone to the effort of learning, so that he could help you, or make the meals for you both instead on the days when you were particularly tired.

Another held the day he’d learned to do his laundry, the two of you unable to use the washing machine as you hid your presence from Derek, and he hand washed his clothes in the sink and hung them out the window so that they could dry, and you wouldn't have to take them home to wash and return for him.

He moved between them all, searching and hunting for more, until he was sure he’d seen every single one, and this room didn’t hold pain, it held an aching nostalgia as he watched the two of you smile, and he spent a while in there, laying the framed out on the floor in the order he remembered them, so that he could walk along and rewatch the development of his relationship with you.

When the time came, he wasn’t rushed for the room. Each frame seemed to flicker to black, progressively until each one showed him his own reflection, tear-stained cheeks and a wide smile, and it was with peace and satisfaction that he pulled the door shut behind himself, pressing his forehead to the wood, even if only momentarily, while he let the joy sink in.

Wrath

The loft was once again present when he entered the door leading to this sin, only two to go. He was well aware of everything he had done, reminders of his past sat around the room, and he ignored the group you called your friends as they cowered in the corner, choosing instead to look around at the trinkets and possessions he knew didn’t belong in Derek’s loft. The battle-axes sitting in a crisscrossed shape on the wall above the door, the dates of the battle carved into them.

The matching sets of slightly different rifles hanging on the coat rack, each with a hard-shelled helmet sitting on top, the dates of the world wars carved into each one, and the boxing bag in the corner with the gloves sitting on top of it, collecting dust. The fight that had ended his life had begun, and he knew how it played out, phantom pains of the bullet wounds on his chest beginning to flare up, and he pressed a hand to them absentmindedly. This room was a reminder of his biggest sacrifice, all the times he’d let fights and anger, malice and hatred get the best of him, and the one time he’d let his love take over as he gave everything up in a bid to protect and defend instead of attack and fight. He didn’t want to relive his death, he didn’t want to see you crying over him again, he didn’t want to watch himself break your heart, and so he made his way back or he door, not once looking back as he heard the bullets spray that had killed him open fire.

The deafening noise of the battle was silence as he stepped back into the corridor, only one door remaining, and he looked at it carefully, chewing on his lower lip with anxiety, before stepping towards it.

Envy

He had left this one until last for one very specific reason; because he already had a nauseating sickness telling him he knew exactly what was lying for him within this room.

He had always struggled with envy, it came hand in hand with greed, and while you’d been able to help him with every other issue he’d had, this was not one you could help him with. You made it worse, he wanted you, all of you. He wanted your attention, your love, your heart. He could never blame you for your friendship with Stiles, but he’d been jealous of it even before he’d been cast out, and he had never been able to move past it even when he was.

This room wasn’t a memory, the clock in the room was ticking loudly, the calendar on the wall was crossed off only two days after his death, and he was laying in the middle of the room. His guts twisted with jealousy as he watched you sitting beside him, Stiles making his way across the room to talk to you, to wrap his arms around you and hold you so close, to be the one who would still get to hold you, to love you and treasure you for the rest of his life.

There was no lesson to learn in this room, because no matter how hard he tried, he’d never be able to suppress it. This was his strongest weakness, his worst sin, because he wasn’t strong enough to overcome it, even with your help. He was always going to want love, and attention, and to be everything he possibly could. His reasons may have changed, but that simple fact would never go away, because he wanted to be everything to you, and he never would be.

He felt sick, watching as Derek scooped you up, carrying your screaming and thrashing body away from him, before the two of you disappeared up the stairs, and he followed after you both, watching as Derek disappeared with you into a bedroom with you still in his arms. He followed, stumbling over his feet and only catching sight of your tear-stained cheeks, and he wanted to be by your side, to sit with you as he saw you mourn, to ease your pain for him, and he screamed out in anger as he fell through the doorway.

The room slipped away, your body gone as he was back in the corridor, and he spun around, pushing idly at the now locked door of envy. He pounded, kicking and screaming as he willed himself to be able to return to your side, even if you couldn’t see him, he shouted your name, and punched at the wood until the white paint was smeared with blood and his knuckles were bleeding, tears flowing down his cheeks until he gave up, slumping against the wall as he was filled with despair.

The final door - the unlabelled one that had been locked, until now - creaked as it swung open, only an inch or so, to match how the others had been now that they were all locked so tightly behind him. His lesson had been learned, and despite what was on the other side of this door, he understood what he’d been told. He moved to it cautiously, peering at it with anticipation, but continued to lurk outside.

His hands trembled as he looked at the final door, the clicking of a lock sounding so loudly that he winced, and the noise echoed along the corridor to either side, his heart skipping a beat in his chest before he felt like it had stopped entirely, nothing but fear coursing his body.

You had shown him what it meant to care, to really try, and even if it had been too late to redeem himself, you had meant more to him than anything else ever had. You’d given him the power to change himself, and he’d done it without even meaning to, just for you. He’d changed, he’d learned, and it brought him peace as he managed to steady his racing heart and still his shaking hands enough to grasp onto the doorknob.

He expected fire, he expected agony and suffering and pain to match everything he had done. He expected to be burned, and tortured, and spend an eternity being inflicted with the same trauma he’d forced on everyone he had interacted with before you had come into his life, dragging him into the loft and forcing him to get better, forcing him to change.

With your face flashing behind his eyes, the feeling of your body still pressed to his as he remembered the hugs, the smiles and the laughs, he had the power to push the door open, and step into the blinding white light within as he whole-heartedly accepted everything he had coming to him.

You shuffled downstairs, swallowing thickly as you passed by the body that was still laying on the floor, now covered neatly with a white sheet, and you wrapped the thick bed covers that you’d brought with you even tighter around you, closing the warmth in to replace what you felt you’d lost, a cheap imitation of the warmth he’d brought to your life.

Stiles stumbled out of the kitchen when he heard your footsteps on the stairs, and he offered you a shaky smile, your best friend holding his arms wide out to you, and you slowly moved across the room, falling into them and he chuckled as a wad of cover smacked him in the face.

“I haven’t seen you wrap yourself up like this since I got possessed.”

“I like to become a burrito when I get depressed. It makes me feel safe. I’m a depression burrito.” You mumbled, voice muffled from where your face was pressed into his shoulder and he laughed loudly, the sound rumbling in his chest underneath you, his body shaking a little, and he squeezed you a little tighter before letting you go.

“All right, well, how about we get you some food, okay? Everyone but Scott has gone home, and Derek made a roast chicken. I don’t know where he got the chicken, he just arrived back with it after going for a run.” Your face scrunched up as he guided you to the kitchen, and you could see Derek scowling at Stiles from his place beside the oven.

“You saw me come in with a fucking grocery bag, Stiles, I didn’t wolf out and steal a fucking hen.”

You laughed loudly at the exclamation, pointing your friend a look, before you struggled to hop up onto one of the bar stools in your wrapped-up state, but managed it, Scott sending you a funny look from across the table, his face screwing up in a way that made you giggle, despite your sadness. The smell of chicken cooking in the oven, basted and seasoned filled your nose, and you let out a content sigh as you watched Derek wear his apron and chop potatoes to go with it, Stiles filling out a crossword in his puzzle book, and Scott texting away on his phone and doing his best to help Stiles, though he knew none of the words for the ‘diabolical’ level of puzzle.

“I need a six-letter word for ‘lacking of capability’.” He spoke aloud, and Scott began to eagerly scream off any synonyms he could handle, no matter what their letter count or real definition, and Derek snorted from the counter he was facing.

“Stiles.”

Scott cracked up laughing, and even you managed a smile, Stiles stocking his tongue out behind the werewolf, and as if sensing the motion, Derek flipped him off over his shoulder, before gasping loudly. “It fits.”

That only spurred the entertainment in the room, Derek chuckling as he scraped the chopped potatoes into a large pan of boiling water, before washing his hands and turning around to face you all at the kitchen counter. “How do you feel?”

“Despite being insulted, I am still sailing high, cruising a great mood, completing my crossword a-”

“Not you, dipshit.” Stiles beamed cheekily as you giggled, and he dropped one eye in a lazy wink, before going back to chewing on the tip of his pencil as he focused on the words he was missing, racking his brain extensively, his foot tapping under the table and the sound went unnoticed, as you were all used to his twitching by now. “I’m making you roast potatoes, I know you like them.”

“Derek, you don’t want to hear it, but I love you. You’re a cuddly wolf, really.” His lips formed a thin line, his eyes narrowing on you, but his cheeks heated up as he moved across the room, wrapping his strong arms around you and sealing you in a hug, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“I love you too. But don’t tell the others, I’m not saying it to them all, some of them are too annoying.” He spoke the final word loudly, Scott’s lips flicking up as he heard the whole thing with his enhanced hearing, but Stiles merely scoffed, mumbling some reply in insult before it trailed off into an exclamation of joy as he solved another word.

Derek went back to cooking, and you were happy to just settle into the atmosphere around you. You weren’t sure how long had passed by, but the light from outside had darkened down, stars twinkling in the sky as the loft was lit up by lamps and soft lights. Clearly, you’d passed out for hours, the entire day having slipped by you, but you couldn't deny that you felt better, physically.

You were in the middle of chatting to Scott about the difference between ‘Quicksilver’ and ‘The Flash’ when he suddenly stiffened, Derek doing the same, and you and Stiles looked between them carefully.

“Dude, what’s up?”

Stiles waved a hand in front of a frozen Scott’s face, and the wolf snatched at his hand and batted it away, before they were looking at one another, Derek and Scott both going on the defensive. “Heartbeat.”

Stiles all but fell out of his seat, his hands flailing around himself, and fear rose up in your chest. You had been so sure that you’d ended the benefactor threat, you were so certain it was all over, and yet now you were on edge again. A cough, a single cough echoed through the loft from the main room, and the group of you stumbled back into the large space, eyes wide as you looked around, claws out on both of the wolves.

A scream tore from your lips as you took in the sight before you, your eyes watering as your knees buckled beneath you, causing you to fall backwards into Scott’s chest and he stumbled to support you. On his hands and knees, a red splotch of blood that he’d coughed up onto the white sheets, was the man you had presumed to be dead, your eyes wide and entire body trembling violently as you stood frozen in shock.

Your fingers grasped at the duvet wrapped around you, your jaw hanging open, and Stiles moved first, travelling towards his double and patting his back as the man groaned out, wiping his mouth and mumbling the word ‘water’ as best he could on a dry throat. You couldn't move, you felt like your head was spinning, and at this point, you weren’t even sure if you were really awake or whether this was a dream that your grief-riddled mind had dreamt up to ease your suffering.

A frantic Stiles buzzed past you, emerging only a few moments later with a glass of water, the liquid sloshing up over the sides of the glass and splashing across the concrete as it hit the floor. Holding it out to him, he took deep chugs, drinking the entirety of the glass before handing it back to Stiles and thanking him. Both of the wolves had put away their fangs and claws, eyes simply wide, and you weren’t even shaken from your almost traumatised state when Scott nudged you forward, you just watched on with a hanging jaw and watering eyes as he finally looked up to you.

He stood on shaky feet, stumbling for a second and wiping the blood from the side of his mouth, before he was offering you a small smile, arms hanging simply by his sides as his eyes softened upon seeing you. “Hey there, sweetheart.”

His wounds had healed, everything from the slight grazes and scrapes on his skin all the way to the bullet wounds that had taken him from you in the first place. Colour was dripping back into his complexion, bringing his life back with every second that passed, and his feathers were falling away slowly, the broken ones and the still pure ones falling away to a heap on the floor until his shoulders were once again sitting bare.

His arms opened, lifting barely at all but his palms stretched out as he watched tears roll down your cheeks, your bottom lip held prisoner within your teeth and you let out a squeaky sound before dropping the blanket you had wrapped around you, darting across the room and throwing yourself into his arms, to be wrapped up in him instead. His arms sealed around you just as tight as yours were around him, his face buying in your neck as your chin sat on his shoulder, and he squeezed you tightly as you released a needy sob, tears splashing onto his bare skin from your cheeks.

His hand cupped the back of your head and his own body was trembling underneath you, your legs going weak just from the ecstasy of being held by him, and the two of you sunk down to your knees, never letting one another go as you did, until you were slumped on the floor and clutching onto one another desperately.

You heard the others shuffle back into the kitchen and you twisted your head, pressing your forehead against his cheek as he lifted his own, and you felt his breathless chuckle wash over your skin. “I got you, I got you, I promise.” He pulled back enough to cup your cheeks, pressing a shaky kiss to your forehead and you laughed, more tears spilling down your cheeks and his thumbs soothed them away, his lips pressing to the skin your tears had been upon as he soothed the sting. “Why are you crying? Don’t cry.”

“It’s good tears! It’s such good tears, I can’t believe you’re back, you’re back with me.”

“I’m back for you.” He whispered, his eyes fixed on your own, and the two of you watched one another carefully, before you leaned in, pressing your forehead to his as your eyes slid shut, and he let out a low breath that you didn’t know he’d been holding. “I saw. I saw you cry, and I saw how I am with you, and there was some kind of message, I’m not really sure but what I am sure about is that you are so important to me, and I need you.”

His lips pressed a tender kiss to the tip of your nose, his face barely moving, and you circled your arms around him even more tightly, holding him close to your body as you express everything you didn’t say in words with your actions instead. Your hands spread out over his skin, rubbing up and down his smooth skin, before you jumped back in surprise, and he startled a little in your touch. “Your wings are gone! You lost your wings, and your life, for me!”

“And I would do it all over again, a thousand times, if it meant keeping you safe.”

“Yeah, but, you don’t have scars this time.” You placed your hands on his shoulders, turning him around, and he looked back over his shoulder as far as he could, your eyes widening and mumbles of awe leaving you as you took in the detailed ink work on his skin. From the tops of his shoulders to just under the hem of his sweatpants was a beautifully detailed set of tattooed wings, covering the expanse of his back and almost hiding the patch of moles under his right shoulder, but you would never miss them.

Leaning in to press a kiss to the constellation on his skin, his muscles tensed and fluttered under your lips, and your fingers traced the intricate designs from the top to the bottom, covering all of the subtle lines and detailing. “What is it?”

“It’s.. incredible. It’s wings, a tattoo of beautiful angels wings, your wings, from your shoulders to the bottom of your back, and it’s breathtaking.”

“I wish I could see it.” He joked, and you tapped his shoulder, stumbling to your feet and he rose up after you to steady you, but you were already tripping over your own feet as you dashed across the room to grab your phone from where it was sitting on charge in the corner. Making your way back over to him, you positioned him under the lights, snapping a few pictures from different angles, before coming to stand at his side and holding up the phone screen before him.

You flicked through all of the photos, zooming in and pointing out different patches, until eventually, you realised he was no longer looking at the photos. Glancing up, you found his eyes already on you, a small smile on his lips as he stared at you, and your brows raised up. “What?”

He shook his head, licking over his bottom lip before taking the phone from you and tucking it into his pocket, his hands coming up to cup your cheeks, his eyes fixed on yours and your lips parted under the intense gaze he was fixing you with. “I love you.”

You took a sharp breath, eyes wide but you couldn't reply before his mouth was descending onto yours, his eyes sliding shut and lips meeting yours, pressing timidly to your own and a low moan sounded out. Your arms came up to wrap around him, your lips dragging together as he pulled back, before he was diving back into you with more confidence, pressing his lips to yours in a series of quickly deepening pecks, the kiss moving from short and chaste to passionate and drawn out, the smacking of your mouths together filling the silence of the room as his hands slipped down to settle on your waist, sliding around your body to hold you to his body tightly.

Your chest was flush up against his, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, pushing back into him with just as much enthusiasm and joy, your fingers weaving into his hair as his fingers tickled along your spine, running up and down in soothing patterns as he towered over you, your mouths connected in a heated exchange of emotions.

Your lungs were burning, and you pulled back, just long enough to take a deep breath and let your eyes flutter open to take in his ruddy cheeks and swollen lips, darkened eyes studying you so intensely that you felt yourself go pliant in his hold as his strong arms supported you. “I love you too.”

He beamed at you, leaning in and pressing his lips back to yours, sucking on your lower one teasingly as his tongue poked it’s way into your mouth, tangling with your own. This kiss wasn’t as needy or frantic, it was slower, and more intimate, a sigh leaving you and escaping into his mouth as your tongue played visible between your mouths each time your heads tilted and shifted to get deeper angles to one another.

Your heart was pounding in your chest, feeling his thumping just as excitedly from where you weer pressed together so closely, and you sunk back down from your tiptoes to resting on your feet properly, your breathing laboured as you tried to steady it, unable to hide the grin on your face as you felt him pepper your face and cheeks with kisses.

“Are you hungry? Does coming back from the dead make you hungry, or feel sick? It’s not exactly common knowledge.”

“I’m starving, actually.” His words were hummed out, and you laced your fingers with his before pecking his lips, pulling him in the direction of the kitchen as he followed after you. Glancing back over your shoulder, nothing but warmth and pure love filled you as your eyes found his, and he offered you a dazzling smile in reassurance, his fingers squeezing your own in reassurance, and finally, you felt like everything in your life had fallen perfectly into place.

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ziracona · 4 years

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Do you have your own headcanons for the newer characters? I try to imagine them interacting with the rest of the characters and after reading ILM everything you write is canon for me now (been dissapointed with the recent tome).

I have some! Though except for the Stranger Things kids, I don’t know any of the new ones as well and I haven’t written for them, so I don’t have a ton for most of them.

I think for Ash, being in the realm is weird, because he’s been through his share of hell, but like, Ash is from a Horror-/comedy/? And there’s a lot of overlap, but if you lived in a horror comedy world and went to psychological horror torture horror world, it would be some whiplash, even for a seasoned dude. It’s not that he hasn’t been through horrible stuff, it’s that it felt different before. The realm is such a grind. It’s an unending cycle. And Ash is used to not being able to outrun trouble, but he’s used to that meaning life is a fight. Now, there’s nothing he can really do, and danger means constantly running and struggling and failing. So I think that would be hard to cognitively get used to. Because of his personality (as I understand it--I’ve only seen Evil Dead, & I’d do more research before actually writing him) though, I think he would weather it surprisingly well, and be the kind who can crack jokes and be cocky and fun even there. Because of that, I think he and Meg would vibe really well and get along, and so would he and Ace.

Ash likes to tell stories about all the wild stuff he did before the realm. Some of them believe him (Claudette, Meg, Dwight, Steve)--or mostly do but think he exaggerates (Laurie, Quentin, Nancy), some think he’s super lying (Jane, Jake, Min, Zarina), and a lot fall in between. They all enjoy them though, because he’s a great storyteller and very engaging.

Ash isn’t exactly a support unit /at all/, but the fact he lost a hand pre-realm is surprisingly helpful to the group in a support area. Any time someone in the group is wounded outside a trial and has to recover, he’s way better than anyone else at helping them get used to operating without whatever they’ve lost, and just seeing how well Ash can carry his weight doing complex stuff like fixing a gen even down a hand alleviates a lot of fear for them about what would happen if one of them got /gravely/ hurt. This is wild for Ash, because he sure wasn’t much of a support member/usually isn’t, but he goes with it and is glad to help.

Ash greatly dislikes going against Rin. She hits way too close to home. He’s pretty desensitized to gore and horror and violence from his life even pre-realm, but his first experience with horror involved his sister and his girlfriend being attacked and then turning into monsters and trying to kill him, and he was a baby--like 21 at the time, super young adult--and it was extremely traumatic. He almost died because his girlfriend kept seeming like herself and the horror and gore would vanish from her demon-zombie form and she’d be her again, and he’d think he could save her, but she was dead the whole time. The way that Rin looks like a horrible smiling monster viciously hungry for your pain and then will suddenly flash to looking like a heartbroken teenager crying over what she’s done is way too reminiscent of that. It’s literally the only thing in the realm that /really/ shakes him.

(Nancy, Steve, Yui, Zarina, and Cherly HCs under the cut)

Nancy and Steve are really glad they ended up there together instead of alone (I mean, they aren’t happy the other is in hell, but like, it really helps them both to have the emotional support of person they knew from before with them). Nancy adjusts to the realm faster than Steve as in takes it in stride and learns faster, because she’s more cool headed, but it’s about equal levels of awful and slowly eating at them both. They depend on each other a lot to keep up their spirits and to talk about old memories and the loved ones back home.

Nancy gets along really well with Kate, Claudette, Yui, Jeff, and Laurie, but pretty well with them all. Steve also fits in just fine, but gets along especially well with Claudette, Meg, David, Quentin, and Min and Laurie (eventually).

Laurie and the ST kids bond and get a lot of relief from being from similar times. This is especially nice for Laurie, who hasn’t seen anyone from her time in a long time, and feels very lost and last-man-standing because of it. Since the ST kids are from only a few years after Laurie, they get to talk about a lot of the same stuff.

Steve tries to pick Laurie up because he’s bowled over by how cool and strong she is. She doesn’t even notice. When she /finally/ does like a week after he starts trying, she goes, “Are you trying to hit on me /here/?” bc dating in the realm is beyond wild to Laurie who has been in survival mood since 1978 and not even /thought/ about changing that setting. They’re in a group at the time and Steve is so embarrassed that even though he’s flirty, he doesn’t flirt with anyone for like a whole month. This is actually really good for him, because Steve is the kind of person who doesn’t really know how to /not/ be in a relationship, and solo time helps him build a lot of self-worth and self-confidence outside of any kind of relationship at all. Laurie feels kinda bad he took it so hard and tries to be nice to him, and eventually they end up p close friends and it’s very good for both of them.

Nancy is excited to learn fighting tips from David, Yui, and Laurie and pursues it with a vigor. They are all impressed but especially Yui is. Nancy’s very passionate and forceful when she has to be and has a lot of pride, but is also very willing to be humble when she thinks she should be/someone knows more than her about whatever area, and Yui really likes that about her and is interested by it, and she and Nancy kind of slowly become best friends. They vibe really well because they operate similarly.

One of the ST kids mentions a song Quentin likes and he gets really excited they might be into his kind of music, and then finds out Nancy isn’t deep into any specific genre and Steve likes top 50 hits and they’re both like “It sucks for you it’s us and not Jonathan bc you have the exact same taste” and Quentin’s like :’-] “damn it.” He definitely teases Steve for some of the bops he likes, but like, in a lighthearted friend way, and it’s a rapport they get--throwing not-seriously-meant-at-all jabs about music that always devolves into “That one’s actually really good,” “Oh yeah?” “Oh totally you’d really like it. The baseline is like--” “--oh is it crunch?” “Oh, /hell/ yeah.”

Yui is super unhappy about being stuck here, because she dedicated a lot of her life to being a spokesperson about violence against women and stopping it, and now she’s trapped in hell where she and everyone else get cut up and killed constantly and she can do very little to help them. That manifests as anger instead of depression though, and she is a /spitfire/ in trials. Girl will throw hands at the drop of a hat if it has even a small chance of helping the gang make it out. Some of the killers (Legion, Michael, Pig, Wraith) start to dread getting her because she /will/ kick their ass. Like, she won’t win, ever, because the realm is stacked, but she /will/ injure you. She’s like, the one killers start to request /not/ to get.

Some of the killers fight back at this though, and Yui ends up getting super tunneled and injured and soloed out to be hurt, and even tortured a few times, and that is really hard for her. I mean, torture and violence are hard on anyone. But not only does she get punished for fighting as hard as she can for her friends in a hopeless situation by enduring a bunch of awful violence, she also feels like she can’t be candid about how bad it was or ask for much help because she doesn’t want anyone to think she’s beaten or weak or will be deterred by this, or for them to see her any differently--she /really/ doesn’t want to be seen as a victim. She’s a fighter. And she keeps fighting, though she slacks off a little gradually with how aggressive she is both to help the team and because how much she’s enduring as punishment is unbearable, which makes her feel a lot of self-loathing and like she’s letting herself down.

A lot of people try to help her because they know she’s not doing so well, but this makes her feel worse because she doesn’t want them to notice at all. Quentin finally is able to get her to talk a little by just being /super/ candid about how he’s felt about stuff that’s happened to him, even the ugly feelings, and sharing details/vulnerability with her, and that helps her a /lot/ because there’s at least one person she can talk to some. She doesn’t have anyone she tells everything or most of everything to until much later though, after Nancy becomes her friend. Once they’re really, really close, she eventually tells Nancy the truth, then immediately wishes she hadn’t, but Nancy handles it really well and gives her good advice and is super honest about how much Yui’s strength and selflessness inspire her, and that hearing all this she’s been going through and how awful it’s been and that she’s still doing all this in spite of what a war that is inside her just makes her even more impressed and see how utterly outclassed she is in bravery and how much work she has to do to get close to where Yui is, and it helps a whole lot, and they were already best friends, but they are /incredibly/ close after that night. Yui also opens up more to some of the others and is more okay asking for help, although she stays pretty guarded about how hard things feel.

Once she hears what Rin is, Yui feels terrible for her. She tries to keep small gifts on her she has no idea if Rin would like or even be /able/ to enjoy, and when she gets Rin in a trial, she’ll leave them for her/in her pockets. She has no idea if this means anything, but she’s miserable for the Onryo and wants to be able to help, even if she really can’t. She’s similarly very sympathetic to any killer she finds out was lied to or is not in control of their own actions, like Lisa and Philip. Detests all the serial killer/torture killers to a level on par with the vicious hatred the creator of the “ i fucking hate jurgen leitner “ video feels towards Jurgen Leitner. Gets along really well with Kate, Tapp, and David bc they similarly want JUSTICE and cannot get it.

Zarina shows up in realm and is like “Un-fucking believable. I try to uncover the truth about a cover up and I get kidnapped by an eldritch demon. That figures.” She’s distressed life has yet again been like “No, f you in particular Zarina,” but she is determined to help the others stuck there, and /very/ determined to find a way to escape. Gets along well with Jane, Jake, Dwight, and Adam right away, because she and Jane have a lot of “Oh something like that happened to me!” kinds of stories to share with each other, Adam’s curiosity vibes with hers, and Dwight and Jake lead the “Escape Planning Time” discussions.

After she learns enough second-hand about Dwight to know he was way less cool before and fixed his life, she likes him even more and has a kind of kinship with him and mentions how she kind of hid from who she was and lost herself in even feeling shame about her identity and how hard but invaluable becoming who she is now was, and how proud she is of herself. It’s a super relief for Dwight to meet someone as cool and good as her who comes up to him and goes “Hey we’re the same!” because he still worries about himself and how he’s doing. Gives him a lot of peace of mind and they are bros.

When she realizes Caleb Quinn is a killer in the realm, Zarina is thrown for a huge loop. She’s still curious if the stories about him are lies, but uh, getting murdered by him doesn’t exactly make her feel very warmly towards him and she kind of loses a lot of enthusiasm about it, until she hears him mutter his old boss’s name (which she remembers from her investigation) hatefully under his breath while attacking Jeff, as if he is talking /to/ his boss, and she starts running observation point with some of the others and figures out that he’s hallucinating who he sees. Eventually she executes an elaborate mid-trial “Hey you’re being lied to” that works well enough he actually figures out the Entity has been manipulating him hardcore. It does not change much on their end, sadly, once he knows? Caleb is out of rotation for a while, then goes back into it with very little change in how he hunts them, although he is somewhat less brutal/isn’t excessively cruel, and is more scarred than before. He also definitely avoids Zarina specifically and if he has a go after this person or her choice, always goes after the other person. He’s a long time violent criminal so he’s ofc not like, reformed by being informed he was being used, but Caleb hates being used more than anything else, and it’s happened a lot, so in a “honor among” something way, he tries to pay her back by only hunting her when there isn’t someone else to hunt. She is simultaneously annoyed by this and curious/hopeful that maybe it means there is some slim chance the dude has some humanity left, but she remains unsure.

Zarina joins the support squad of Adam, Claudette, and Quentin during trials, and enjoys hanging with them and picking up skills from the more seasoned members.

She is also /super/ interested in trying to solve the realm and how it works, and asks people for detail on everything they know and takes copious notes. She’s fascinated by Benedict Baker, whom she hasn’t met, and starts collecting everything he has written that she can find, and begins journaling some in a similar fashion to record things she discovers or guesses. She likes to interview her friends about themselves, and they find it kind of awkward and odd at first, but get to really appreciating having their experiences listened to and recorded. It makes them feel more like their existences and suffering and hopes and pasts all matter.

Cheryl was traumatized before even /getting/ to the realm. She’s pretty closed off about her personal backstroy, because uh, it’s a /lot/, and it’s heavy af. She’s kind of nervous and paranoid people will want to use or hurt her if they know what she is, because it’s happened in the past, so she’s very skittish about deep relationships and divulging the truth.

This nature makes her click pretty well with Laurie, whose interests explicitly do not involve prying. They’ve also both been through a lot of trauma and don’t like people to know the details, so they are pretty happy just being silently in each others’ company.

After she has an especially bad nightmare she wakes up from screaming about the fourth time, Quentin hesitantly starts trying to get to know her and walk the balance beam of “I want to know what’s going on so I can help” and “I don’t want to pry.” He and she confide in each other some, albeit pretty vaguely, but it helps. They’ve both got a lot of guilt over stuff that isn’t their fault and endless nightmares and are very empathetic/altruistic people, and it’s probably that overlap that gets Min and Nea god-tier invested in Cheryl’s welfare after a couple months of her steadily proving she is not getting very close to anyone, and almost seems to think she deserves this hell and will never escape it.

On basically wild impulse alone and too much chaotic energy, Nea and Min decide to make looking out for and forcing Cheryl to hang w them a pet project. She’s super confused and nervous at first, and doesn’t want to drag anyone down with her, but the girls are nothing if not persistent, and she kind of slowly comes more out of her shell and starts to laugh and smile some and very slowly decides they don’t have any ulterior motives and so far nothing bad has happened to them because of her, so maybe it’s okay. David and Kate also like Cheryl a lot--initially probably because she reminds them some of Quentin, who they’re both very fond of, but then after they know her better just because they really like her herself as a person. Everyone likes Cheryl, but some are much better than others at trying to be friends with her. A lot of the high-energy ones kind of are overwhelming for her, at least at first, and she’s got so much despair and guilt and disappointment in herself that the less vocal ones she tends to read as not liking her even though they’re just quiet. This slowly improves though, and she ends up much happier and less alone.

When some of them finally get /part/ of her life story, everyone is overwhelmingly horrified for her. The whole group turns into a Cheryl Protection Squad for the next like 6 months. She is overwhelmed and confused and mildly distressed by this, but also happy and moved on a “I want to go find somewhere to cry alone” kind of level because after all she’s been through, it’s dragged back to hell again she’s the happiest she’s been since she was a kid.

I’m gonna stop here bc that’s a lot, but hope you enjoyed these! : )

#dead by daylight #long post #writing #dbd #nancy wheeler #cheryl mason #zarina kassir #yui kimura #ash williams #steve harrington #ditoworld #ask #headcanons #In Living Memory #In Living Memory (fic)#not sure if that's relevant but since I think of this in terms of in an ILM au I guess I'll tag it lol #: ) thanks for the ask!

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chemicalpink · 4 years

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Astrology Series ♡ Venus Sign: how they love you ♡ BTS Hyung Line

A/N: I tried uploading this last week but it somehow got deleted so I changed it up a bit. Just a little something for you, while I’m working on other stuff. Venus essentially relates to romance, love, manners, politeness, sensuality, culture, affection, luxury, refinement, wealth, beauty, aesthetic appeal and artistic instincts. So… enjoy!

HOSEOK [pisces Venus]

Little Hobi is probably the most naive and hopeful towards love

Fairytales? Dramas? Chick flicks? you name it, it probably has something to do with his idea of falling in love

Being a creatively hungry person, he is one to wear his heart on his sleeve and would have fallen in love with you right there and then, the first time he ever saw you

Honestly, by the time he said hi to you, he already had a thousand different ways to win your heart

His Venus in Pisces makes him struggle with discerning what is authentic and what is a projection of seeing too much of the good in people, he really appreciates having you by his side to help him out not having his feelings hurt when it came to hate comments

I have said this before but this ray of sunshine is a hopeless romantic to a fault, for real.

Also, he is one to read people like books, there is no way that you can hide anything from him, no matter how hard you tried

Like, if you were having a bad day and tried to conceal it because man, he just came back from rehearsal and is tired, he would see right through that fake smile and go all the way to have you smiling for real

Even though he is the loudest™ out of the group, he is REALLY selective with who he invests time/energy in and was, surprisingly, a bit shy when he first met you

It was actually Namjoon that kinda forced him to talk to you, and he infinitely thanks him for it

It took time and a lot of patience from you to get him to really open up

But once he realised you and him were for real, man, he started dedicating his entire life to you, there is not a single thing he wouldn’t do for you

In conclusion, he will romanticise you to the point of nausea. He can and will dedicate his life to make you happy, all he asks in return is to feel supported. Protecc him.

NAMJOON [scorpio Venus]

Scorpio Venus are usually private to a fault so Joonie would probably be one to small talk for a while before actually feeling like he can trust you.

Oh but once he grows into you, be sure that he can (and will) commit wholeheartedly

He might have this mysterious facade at first but you’ll get to break into it, don’t you worry

The thing here is that he struggles with being too overinvested, so you might need the one to remind him that although you adore the way he treats you, he can’t neglect himself.

Here’s the cutest thing ever: A relationship with Namjoon is pure childlike love. He is utterly in love with you.

Of course, Joonie is one to tend to lock away the delicate parts of himself, trying to always be the one put together, but from time to time, he allows himself to be vulnerable with you.

Joon, having scorpio in venus, finds comfort and peace in what he knows is definitive, so if you both decided on starting a relationship, it is one for the long road.

I’m talking long-term plans and all

Namjoon is one to be attracted to the person that usually goes overlooked so I’m pretty sure he would have fallen in love with you just by seeing you do the most mundane thing

You probably caught his eye while sitting quietly in a cafe or something, out of the blue really.

You don’t have to invest that much into him, he finds amazingly beautiful small gestures that you have for him, like how every night from day one you wished him sweet dreams, or how on your second cafe date you remembered his order by heart.

He isn’t one to bound by material things, he actually cares more about the experiences so expect a lot of new adventures “just for the experience”

All I’m saying is… travel around the world

In conclusion, Namjoon will quite literally dedicate his entire existence to you, you are always in his mind and there is not a single step in his life that isn’t given without having previously thought about you.

YOONGI [aries Venus]

Okay there is no way to deny this, the BIGGEST misunderstanding with Yoongi is that his love language is non committal

Like sure, he doesn’t do big displays of affection or writes lengthy love notes to you. But he does show you what you mean to him in his own unique way.

For example, those times he had you over at his studio while he was working overnight, or how he loved to run his fingers over your knuckles when he had you close and was talking to the other members

Min Yoongi is action-oriented, so he isn’t quite caught up in details, which is sometimes a big problem when you tried to make him catch a hint to make him realise that he had done something wrong.

Subtext is just not his language, he much rather have you scream at him what he did wrong. Otherwise, he would never catch it.

Now, sure, he is one to be seen as cold but he seeks out how to cater to your needs and usually approaches things delicately, truth be told, it took you a while to grow accustomed to his little love gestures with a plain face.

His Aries Venus allowed him to quickly pour himself into you because he just instantly felt you were worth fighting for.

I mean, he didn’t even wait for a while to tell you he liked you

It was actually one of the first things he told you, something along the lines of “Look Y/N, I’m attracted to you, let’s go on a date”

In conclusion, Yoongi is inherently honest and transparent with his way of loving you. He just doesn’t see the point of being inauthentic.

SEOKJIN [capricorn Venus]

He might seem outgoing but man is this boy a little shy anxious ball

I mean, he actually hid behind a pillar waiting for someone else to arrive. Same Jin, same.

When in love, it takes A LOT for him to open up and trust you, but having you by his side after a while, he felt so comfortable, you came to know him better than the palm of your hand.

Jin is one to overcommit to routine, there is no such thing like spontaneous romance for him. So if you are to get together, it will be because you already are a part of his life.

Now, I’m not saying Jinnie is a big dom but… it takes a lot of strength for him to give you his heart (even after what? ten dates? but who’s counting) because he LOVES to be in control.

He is incredibly emotionally sensitive, and honestly, being the eldest in BTS has had him conceal this so he is very grateful that he can just let loose with you.

Worldwide Handsome™ is also Worldwide-making-sure-he-makes-your-life-easier, it’s just something he has in him.

It even came to a point where he carried you up the three small steps to your home’s entrance because ‘you seemed too tired to do it yourself’

Jin doesn’t ask much in return for his love, he feels loved through you being reliable for him. Just the thought of you being there for him is enough.

In conclusion, Seokjin’s love language is to go out of his way continually to make your life easier. He just likes to act tough.

He wants to be spoiled and babied 24/7 but he will take this to his grave.

Thank you for reading! I hope you liked it! Please let me know if you did, and as always, requests are open. Also, I’m so sorry for not uploading but I’ll do my best to be consistent. Life has just been weird lately.

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lon3lynation · 4 years

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Promise To Never Let Go (Day 6: Titanic Clexa AU)

Can also be read on AO3.

“Where to, Miss?”

“To the stars.”

Dull blue eyes gazed helplessly above at the bright and magnificent night sky that was accompanied by twinkling stars. They could be seen reflecting off the water. It was beautiful, but it only felt like a cruel tease the more she stared and tuned out her surroundings. More than anything, Clarke yearned for Lexa to take them to the stars. Instead, her body was frozen stiff on top of a door while floating in the Atlantic ocean. Tears begged to be wept, but her tear ducts have long since frozen any that attempted to fall.

“When this ship docks, I’m getting off with you.”

“This is crazy.”

“I know. It doesn’t make any sense. That’s why I trust it.”

Clarke squeezed her eyes shut before opening them again in fear that they would freeze in position. Slowly, she rolled her cold and numb body to the side, shuddering at the feel of her icy skin peeling from the wood. It was unnerving how gradually the calm and silent overtook the night. Panicked screams, uncontrollable prayers, and desperate calling of names had filled the air while the Titanic continued to sink deeper into the ocean. She had also found herself screaming, shouting with all her might, and love for Lexa earlier.

People all around her were splashing frantically, knowing that death would soon claim them all, but one had tried to introduce her to end sooner by nearly drowning her when she first surfaced. A stranger tried to use her body outfitted with a lifejacket to stay afloat, but she struggled and fought desperately to break his hold. She hit him with a swift jab that knocked him loose and quickly took the chance to escape. Lexa would have been proud to have seen it. It was then she realized that Lexa wasn’t anywhere to be found. She yelled and swam searching for Lexa while shoving past passengers until eventually noticing the bodies going silent and still. Her body and mind screamed at her that she would perish too if she continued searching.

“I love you. Lexa.”

“No, don’t say your good-byes, Clarke. Don’t you give up. Don’t do it.”

“We’re going down!”

“Clarke, listen to me. Listen. Winning that ticket was the best thing that ever happened to me. It brought me to you. And I’m thankful, Clarke. I’m thankful. You must do me this honor... promise me you will survive... that you will never give up... no matter what happens... no matter how hopeless... promise me now, and never let go of that promise.”

“I promise.”

“Never let go.”

“I promise. I will never let go, Lexa. I’ll never let go.”

“Okay, good. Now take a deep breath and hold it right before we go into the water. The ship will suck us down. Kick for the surface and keep kicking. Don’t let go of my hand. We’re gonna make it, Clarke. Trust me.”

“I trust you. I jump, you jump, remember?”

Clarke wanted to hold onto her promise to Lexa, but she was supposed to be able to hold onto Lexa too. She had her, she was hers with a future together on the horizon, and they were going to make it. Unfortunately, that hope dwindled as soon as they hit the water, she had held tightly onto Lexa’s hand until something had yanked her beloved from her grip and forced her to the surface alone. All she could do was scream and search for her until even that was taken from her. Her voice turned hoarse and weak, her body slowed and grew numb from the 28 degrees ocean. Reluctantly her search changed to searching for something to keep her out of the open water. Luckily, she had found the door that was presently keeping her afloat.

However, Clarke couldn’t find it in herself to feel lucky. She had somehow lost Lexa in the depths of the ocean, not knowing if she was clinging to life like Clarke was or if her body was among the floating corpses somewhere around her unseen. She wanted to hold out hope, but the quiet was eating away at her, and her body was so, so, so cold. The longer she was left on top of the door without rescue, her aching heart would surely come to an unending halt. It was a struggle to keep her eyes open and hold out, but Clarke was no longer even sure if she had reason to keep trying. She felt so weak, so close to embracing her icy death, and hopeful she’ll somehow see Lexa again.

Clarke was so grateful that she had taken her chance to tell Lexa that she loves her. At least Lexa had known her love, that her heart would forever be cherished in life, and even in death. It was simply unfair they didn't have more time together. What they had was so new and so beautiful. She would have never believed that she could genuinely fall in love with someone, another woman at that, in just a few days. Lexa turned what seemed like an impossibility into a possibility and swept Clarke off her feet.

“Lexa,” she weakly whispered to the stars above, her frozen lips cracking when they parted.

All hope, will, and spirit were leaving her stranded, just like how the lifeboats in the distance had neglected to come to their rescue when they called out to them. She doesn’t know how long it has been since she and Lexa entered the water but it felt like an eternity when it was perhaps closer to 40 minutes. It appeared that no one was coming to their rescue, and if they were, it would be too late by then to find any survivors. With the dead silence surrounding her, it left her wondering if she was the only one left clinging to life. It was foolish of her to still be hanging on when everyone’s spirits have already departed them. Embracing death, no matter if she wanted it or not, felt like her last and only option.

She just needed to let go.

Taking one last look at the night sky, Clarke let her eyes flutter closed.

A moment later, a light flared across the water, silhouetting the bobbing corpses in between the boat and Clarke. It traveled past her motionless form before moving on. The boat is 50 feet away, and moving past her to continue their search.

Clarke’s eyes snapped open.

Voices.

She heard distorted and hollow voices. Blearily vision sought the sound out and tracked a lifeboat that was stretching the distance between them. At first, she couldn't believe her eyes and simply watched the boat move further away. Clarke had accepted that she wasn’t going to get rescued in time, and the boat passed her by. She wanted to close her eyes again and wait for death to claim her. The will to let go was right there, and all she had to do was let it happen.

But...

Lexa made her promise to never let go.

If she let go now, wouldn’t that be breaking her promise to her?

She couldn’t let herself break it. She couldn’t disappoint Lexa.

Lexa would want her to keep fighting. Seeing that she was still breathing and there was a real chance of a rescue, she couldn’t just turn away from it. Clarke promised that no matter what happens or how hopeless that she would live on.

She needed to live. For Lexa.

“Hel--” her voice faltered. “Help!” Clarke struggled to move because her voice was failing her. The boat had rowed dreadfully out of her view. “Over here!” Knowing there was no other choice, Clarke plunged herself into the icy water, her hair tugging painfully from where it had frozen to the door. She swam to where a Chief Officer with a whistle was nearby and clutch onto his body. Taking the whistle from his frozen mouth, she gathered all the strength that was left in her body and blew the whistle. The sound struck across the still water.

Clarke keeps blowing and doesn’t stop until the whistle is taken from her stiff lips when her rescuers reached down and hauled her into the boat. Finally rescued and safe, Clarke fell unconscious with dreams of Lexa and that the unsinkable Titanic never actually sunk.

_________________________

When Clarke woke up, she found herself and about 700 other survivors aboard the RMS Carpathia. The crew gave her dry clothes and had her evaluated by 1 of their 3 doctors. She was told that she had reached Stage 3 of Hypothermia and that she likely would have died if the rescue had arrived any later than they had. It didn’t surprise her and knew she should consider it a miracle that she was alive. They swaddled her in a blanket, fed her, and offered her hot tea.

She slowly roamed around the steamliner, her eyes taking in the pale faces of survivors around her, hoping to see familiar, knowledgeable green eyes.

She didn’t.

Eventually, Clarke settled on the deck with her hot beverage to watch the rising morning sun and the last of the rescued lifeboats being hoisted up. They all just survived something horrible together, and yet Clarke felt utterly alone. Falling into a trance with an emotionless face, Clarke silently mourned.

“Is that you, Clarke?” a different familiar voice shook her out of it.

Finn.

Clarke clenched her jaw at the sight of Finn looking her over. She looked like a refuge with matted hair hanging over her eyes.

“Yes, I lived. How awkward, huh?”

“Clarke, your mother and I have been looking for you.”

Holding a hand up, Clarke put a stop to whatever Finn had in mind to say next. She didn’t want to hear it. He was the reason why Lexa was prevented from getting on a lifeboat with her. They could have been both saved if he had just put aside his hurt ego and let Lexa join her.

“Please don’t. Shut up and just listen. From this moment, you do not exist for me, nor I for you. You shall not see me again. And you will not attempt to find me. Is this in any way unclear to you?”

Clarke ignored the way Finn looked at her with big sad eyes. He received a lethal glare in return.

“What do I tell your mother?”

Clarke hesitated before replying with a weary sigh.

“Tell her I died with the Titanic.”

Turning around to face the rail again, Clarke dismissed Finn.

“Goodbye, Finn.”

Finn reluctantly left, leaving her to replay her the past few days in her head again.

“Sorry to bother you, ma’am. I need your name.”

Clarke looked back to see an Officer holding a list of all the names of the survivors.

“Um, Clarke Griffin. Actually, make that Woods. Clarke Woods.”

The man looked her over curiously before nodding and writing the name down.

“I think I just noted down your sister’s name a bit ago. Have you seen to her?”

“Sister? I don’t have a sister.”

“I know you said Woods, but Griffin? Lexa Griffin? Figured there was a relation there, my apologies, Miss.”

Clarke froze on the spot. It was wishful thinking. It had to be. Lexa had been lost to the sea. Right? But what were the chances that there was a survivor named Lexa Griffin?

“Lexa Griffin? Where did you leave her? Tell me!”

“Oh, I last saw her resting in one of the Officer’s cabins that were converted.”

Clarke dropped her nearly empty cup of tea to rush to where the cabins were situated below deck. It takes a few long, tense minutes to push past the crowd filled with crew and survivors to get to the correct level. Her heart was beating like crazy, and her body was protesting her rapid movements. She was still weak and needed to take it easy while she recovered. There was a possibility that Lexa had survived though, and she desperately needed to see if her sudden hope was senseless or not. She slammed into an Officer’s room, scanning the bleak faces of a few passengers and not finding the features she wanted to see. Quietly apologizing, she backed out the room and rushed into the next converted room.

Not her.

Not… wait.

Clarke’s eyes settled on a slim figure sitting on the edge of a bed, hunched over with blankets wrapped around their whole body. Clarke shook as she slowly inched forward, both hopeful and scared to look upon the hooded person’s face. Swallowing deeply, Clarke stood before the clearly defeated form of a woman and let herself say her beloved’s name out loud.

“Lexa?”

The huddled form flinched at her voice before slowly raising a trembling hand to push back the blanket and finally revealing those beautiful familiar eyes Clarke has wished to witness again.

“Oh my god, Lexa!”

Lexa’s face slackened in shock at the sight of Clarke.

“Clarke?” she rasped, her devastation quickly turned into euphoria as she jumped up to embrace Clarke tightly.

“It's you! It’s really you.” Clarke cried heartily before tucking her face into the curve of Lexa’s neck. “I thought I lost you.”

“Clarke, Clarke, Clarke,” Lexa repeated, nearly crushing Clarke as she attempted to pull her deeper into her. “You’re here.”

“I’m here, Lexa. We’re both here. We made it.”

“I-I believed you were gone, Clarke. I was so lost without you.”

“Me too. God, I thought I wasn’t going to make it and hoped I’d get to see you again in the afterlife.” Clarke sighed, pecking the cool skin beneath her lips before leaning back to gaze at Lexa’s face. “I remembered my promise to you, though. I didn’t let go.”

Clarke’s eyes fluttered shut when Lexa moved her hands to hold her face, her fingers slightly trembling against her cheeks. She couldn’t believe that she was feeling Lexa’s touch again. It was real. She didn’t have to go on without Lexa.

“Thank you for keeping your promise. I’m so proud of you for surviving. I didn’t know if you were alive or not but I didn’t think it was fair of me if I didn’t silently promise the same to you. I didn’t want to be without you, but I fought to live for you, Clarke.” Lexa gulped as tears filled her eyes, threatening to fall. “I love you. Oh, do I love you so.”

Clarke felt something crack within her and found herself weeping into Lexa’s chest.

“I love you, I love you,” she cried softly before feeling Lexa maneuver them to sit on the mattress.

Lexa adjusted the blankets around them until they were sharing them and their body heat as she pressed firmly against Clarke. She leaned down and press soothing kisses to Clarke’s head, rubbing her hand along the slant of her back. Lexa let her own tears fall as they both processed and expressed every feeling that overtook their tired bodies. It was hard to accept how close they came to losing each other and that for hours, they truly believed that death had separated them. It was taxing to instantly go from feeling such loss, grief to relief, and elation. It would take a little time to fully process everything to let the pain that they were still feeling fade.

Minutes later, when the tears slowly came to a stop, Clarke tilted her head and lovingly captured Lexa’s lips into a kiss. Simply forgetting and uncaring that there were others in the room, Lexa melted into Clarke and exchanged soft kisses to refamiliarize themselves with each other again. Clarke moved to thread her fingers into Lexa’s unruly curls that still felt a bit damp and was careful to not accidentally tug on any knots. They breathed each other in, letting their newfound love be felt with each press of their lips. Lexa eventually swiped her tongue along Clarke’s upper lip, shifting to deepen the kiss. Clarke eagerly parted her lips for Lexa’s tongue, passionately letting their tongues reunite. Lexa panted while Clarke moaned quietly, their hands tightening their hold on each other.

Someone obnoxiously cleared their throat.

They're reluctant to break apart, but they do to take each other in again with their eyes. Clarke licked her lips, twirling a strand of dark hair between her fingers before choosing to ask what has been on her mind.

“Lexa, what had happened? When we were underwater, I held on, but then it felt like some force just yanked you away.”

Lexa turned her head away, a small blush appearing on her cheeks. Clarke lifted a hand to tilt her face back toward her. She didn’t want those green eyes hidden away from her.

“Those suspenders you adore so much, they nearly killed me.”

Clarke paused her twirling.

“What do you mean?”

“Somehow they got caught on the stern or the railing. I was being dragged down with the Titanic. That’s what pulled me from you. I panicked for a moment thinking that was really how I was going to go out before remembering I could unclip them from my pants. I didn’t think I was going to get to the surface in time. It was close. By the time I regained my breath, you were nowhere in sight.” Lexa sighed, feeling a bit guilty. “I yelled for you, Clarke. I tried to find you. I’m sorry I failed you.”

“Lexa, no, don’t think that.” Clarke moved to clasped Lexa’s face between her hands, her eyes staring intensely into Lexa’s. “You didn’t fail me. You fought to stay alive and you did. If you hadn’t --” her voice cracked with emotion. “You didn’t fail, and it wasn’t your fault. I’m glad that you’re so stubborn and that you basically told death to go fuck themselves.”

Lexa gasped, pretending to be scandalized, but her amusement shined through.

“What a dirty mouth for a first class lady,” Lexa teasingly smirked. “I think I'm fond of it.”

“You better be. It’s your bad influence that did it, after all.” Clarke joked, leaning in to peck Lexa on the lips. “So, what happened afterward? I had to punch a guy in the face for trying to use me as his personal lifejacket. I ended up finding a door to lay on after I had to quit searching for you.”

“You socked a guy, and I missed it? Damn.” Lexa shook her head, silently fuming that someone tried to drown Clarke. “I had to tell a few people to piss off, especially after I found a broken piece of a staircase to climb onto.” Her eyes turned distant, remembering the people she denied and how she noticed their corpses drifting a small distance away from her location. “They didn’t survive.”

Clarke frowned, her hands moving to grip onto Lexa’s tightly. She knew the horror they had gone through. It would take both of them time to cope with the trauma and the consequences of the sinking.

“You did what you had to do to survive. There is no shame in that.” Clarke soothingly rubbed Lexa’s knuckles. “You’re here with me because of that survival instinct. I know that doesn’t make it feel any better, but you’re not alone. We’re together and we’re going to deal with this together too.”

Lexa inhaled deeply and let it out slowly before giving a short nod.

“I’ll hold you to that.”

“I want you to.” Clarke smiled. “There’s a future waiting for us. I want it. I want it all with you.”

“They’d said that it may take us 3 days to reach New York.” Lexa moved to stroke Clarke’s chin. “You’re really coming with me.” She murmured to herself, not knowing how she had gotten so lucky to have a girl wanting to share a life filled with adventures with her. “We’ll travel and go to that pier we talked about. Drink cheap beer, go on the rollercoasters, ride horses on the beach, right into the surf.”

“Ride like a man!”

“Yes, do it like men.” Lexa chuckled. “Every morning, we’ll wake up wrapped up in each other, never knowing what the day will offer us, but we’ll find out together.”

“Together. It sounds like a dream.”

“It is until it’s not. We’re going to make it our truth and live to the fullest.” Lexa grinned, alight with enthusiasm for their new lives together. She couldn’t wait to show Clarke everything the world had to offer and more. “I’ll take you the stars and back, Clarke. Everything in between, I’ll give you the entirety of all that I am and offer you all that I can give to you. I love you.”

“You’ve already given me the most precious jewel in the world, your heart. That and your presence is all I’ll ever truly need from you, Lexa. “Clarke gave a tearful smile. “I jump, you jump, right? I love you too.”

They embraced once more, excitement igniting as they eagerly awaited to start their new life together. There were so many things to do and many sights to see. They were also looking forward to learning what their relationship would end up teaching them about each other. It had been only a short number of days since they met, and they wanted to learn everything about each other. The good, the bad, and the ugly.

They would go on to get to know each other completely. They would go on to explore all in between New York and California. They would visit the pier, go on rollercoasters till they got sick, and ride on horses as men do along the beach. It was everything they had promised to each other, and they lived joyously. All the old and new promises they had made were never broken.

They held on forever.

And they never let go.

#clexaweek2020 #clexaweek2020 day 6 #day 6 historical/period drama #clexa #clexa au #titanic au #titanic clexa #clarke x lexa #clexa. clexa week #clexa ao3 #clexa fanfic #clexa fic #i did it #my writing #i made myself cry #i'm so happy to have written this #now someone make me a cover for this pls

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cornholio4 · 5 years

Text

Down with the Miracle Queen

author’s note: A comment by Gryphinwyrm7 on my End of the Queen’s Reign inspired me to do this. Consider this a spiritual sequel to that story even if it’s not the same universe. I have only seen a bit of the episode online but I have read about it and working with what I have. Haven’t seen the first part of the finale yet (though read about it online of course) with episodes still yet to air, not because of some controversial content but because the show has the most bizarre air schedule I have ever seen for a show. I have seen episodes aired out of order before but usually they don’t do it for the season finale. In here Lukanette gets together and stays together. What does it say when I don't want a redemption for Chloe and Lila and yet I am a She Ra: Princesses of Power fan who does want one for Catra? Plus as a fan of Once Upon a Time I was rooting for Rumpel to get his redemption? But I didn't want one for Starlight Glimmer and still don't?

Marinette Dupain-Cheng had just been declared the new Guardian of the Miraculous and her mentor Master Fu was now retired. Plus while Chloe as Miracle Queen had the Miraculous box (including her own one) taken from her, she would now have to retire her temporary Miraculous holder allies since Hawk Moth now knew who they were.

It was bittersweet and Chloe losing her idol worship of Ladybug didn’t really sting, she did truly hope that Chloe would learn how to better herself. Even despite having been bullied by her for years and everything else she had done but it seemed that for Chloe, she would always go back to doing only what was best for her own self interests.

She was about to bug out when she noticed a video camera on a stand and curiously she went to inspect it and saw it was still rolling. It was at a position where it would catch what just happened.

Then a man came up to her and told her “sorry Ladybug, I forgot about it. I was doing a blog video about Paris but then everything happened and I went to hide. I can delete the footage if you want.....”

Marinette then thought about an idea and wondered if she should pull through with it. It seemed a bit mean and a bit unfair but she realised and remembered it was thanks to Chloe, Hawk Moth had so many victims from her school.

It was thanks to Chloe she had to save her parents’ life from a train accident. Just now it was thanks to Chloe that Hawk Moth was so close to winning.

“Actually, do you think I can please have that footage and I will make sure you will be credited for it.” Marinette asked and the man was happy to comply with the request from one of Paris’ superheroes. He gave his name and Marinette thanked him for it after getting the footage.

She needed to take the video footage to Alya for her plan, just because she will now have to retire Rena Rouge doesn’t mean that Alya can’t help her.

Chloe was beyond furious upon getting home to the hotel and learning that her parents were now lovey dovey with eachother. After all she had done for Paris and Ladybug herself, she does this? Ridiculous, utterly ridiculous!

She will make sure Ladybug rues the day and she will find a way to get her Miraculous back one way or another and then she will make sure that Queen Bee will go down as Paris’ best superhero.

After taking a few hours to vent by punching her Ladybug stuff, she decided to text Sabrina about how unfair everything was. However she had seen that Sabrina texted her already. She looked at it and was wide eyed:

Sorry Chloe but we can’t be friends, you becoming obsessed with Ladybug was one thing but this....

Chloe blinked and then furiously wondered how that brat got off texting her like this and for what reason? Whatever, she will come crawling back just like the last time she had done this and tried to replace her with Dupain-Cheng.

She went on the computer and saw that something posted a quarter of an hour ago on Cesaire’s Ladyblog was gaining traction. She sneered and knew it would be congratulating Ladybug and Chat Noir for what happened but clicked on it.

It was titled “Direct Message from Ladybug” and there was a video with her talking to the camera:

“Greetings ladies and gentleman of Paris, I am Ladybug and I am sorry to say that today Hawk Moth came the closest he had ever come to actually winning. I am sorry to say that the secret identities of my allies except for Chat Noir have been compromised. Hawk Moth knows who they are and I can’t risk their saftey but relying on them again, I trust them but I refuse to put the saftey of them and their loved ones in jeopardy. It is all thanks to a betrayal by one of our own. Chloe Bourgeois who you know as Queen Bee betrayed us and sided with Hawk Moth.”

The video then showed the footage of what happened but anything that could reveal the identities of the other Heroes were edited out along with a caption crediting who caught the footage. It clearly showed Queen Bee continuing to fight against Ladybug and Chat Noir even without the Akuma. The audio managed to be heard as well.

Chloe fumed thinking that Ladybug was truly dead to her at last.

“I am sorry that I feel I had no choice but to post this message but you must know this. Chloe Bourgeois sided with Hawk Moth due to the fact that I didn’t want to jeopardise her saftey or her loved ones by letting her to continue being Queen Bee. I can no longer trust her and I am afraid that my previous trust in her was misplaced. I am sorry about all this: Bug out!”

The video ended and Chloe went back on her tantrum, deciding she needed air she went to her balcony only to have her ears filled with furious shouting. She looked down and saw the hotel was swarmed with an angry mob.

The video imploded with views and shares, easily becoming the most viewed and popular anything on the Ladyblog in its history. It easily eclipsed any interview with Lila Rossi.

Chloe had to stay inside for the foreseeable future for her saftey, the mob caused several VIP customers to check out in no time. The Media were in frenzy with this but then came the interviews:

Several parents of students at Francois Dupont talked about how Chloe bullied just about everyone without consequences thanks to her father’s status as the Mayor. Several parents who were in that Parents day relayed the story of how the Mayor wanted to arrest her daughter’s most bullied victim for stealing based on no evidence and fired the police officer when he refused to do so.

The interviews of the students themselves told similar stories and the most popular one came from Aurore Beaureal:

“She had directly told me that once a villain was always a villain, yet at the time I was only akumatized once and she had been akumatized twice before. I guess she was right though.”

Her father had to tell her that the school was suspending her indefinitely while this was going on. Principal Damocles had most parents refusing to let their children attend school with not only a huge spoilt bully but a willing accomplice of Hawk Moth.

But then the interviews of the ones who were on the train she caused to be out of control come out and then things really picked up more than they did before if possible:

It turns out her father had to bribe them into staying quiet about it and not seek legal charges against her. Her father had told them it was a juvenile mistake that will not be repeated and they begrudgingly agreed for the moment, especially since Queen Bee was helping the Superheroes afterwards. They were now going forward with it saying they now regret not doing it before.

Plus the fact that a couple of those passengers were the parents of Marinette Dupain-Cheng, who was Chloe’s most bullied victim.

Her father resigned from office, he knew his days were numbered and felt better to do it gracefully than be forced out.

Then came the authorities from the French Government who were seeking on trying Chloe on top of the yet to be filled cases against her.

It turned out they were watching Paris intensely and were waiting for a sign of anyone working for Hawk Moth of their own free will. The Government and City Council had issued a law saying someone couldn’t be prosecuted for actions not done of their own free will while being Akumatized. But if they had done so of their own free will and out of being Akumatized........

Chloe eavesdropped on conversations her parents had with their lawyers and knew how much of a hopeless case everything seemed for their end. There were talk that they didn’t know if they could get her out of having to attend a juvenile facility and going to an adult prison when she was of age.

She tried to call her two friends Sabrina and Adrien but Sabrina had blocked her number and Adrien didn’t respond except for one message:

Sorry Chloe. I will always treasure my friendship with you.

Even her oldest friend had turned against her it seemed.

She just sat waiting for Hawk Moth to use her feelings to Akumatize her, which never came. He was angry at how close he was to winning and while he could Akumatize her now, if she failed then she would be no use to her anymore.

With her in custody he can no longer rely on her making new victims for him to Akumatize anymore. She was no use to him anymore and so was discarded as an ally. The same thing he will do so without a second thought to Lila Rossi if he saw her no longer useful.

DDDD

Marinette still couldn’t help but feel sorry for Chloe throughout it all, but deep down knew that Chloe had brought this on herself.

Things were hectic to her and not just her new responsibilities as the Guardian of the Miraculous. She had stopped going after Adrien thinking he would be happy with Kagami and now started a relationship with Luka.

She was feeling guilty that it felt like he was a backup choice but told her not to worry about it, the directions of music changes at a whim he had told her.

She admitted that she was now happy with Luka and felt the good thing about having to retire with Viperion was that she realised it could have impacted their teamwork with him being her boyfriend.

Nadja Chamack told her parents that she was fighting pressure and requests from studios executives to try and get Marinette to be her guest on Face to Face. They thought it would bring in the ratings to interview Queen Bee’s most bullied target and knew Nadja was friends with her parents. She felt that Marinette didn’t need this attention and the Dupain-Chengs were grateful.

On the bright side along with having a boyfriend, she had gotten her website set up and there were no shortages of a demand of the Ladybug and Chat Noir dolls she was selling.

After school she had Sabrina nervously walked up to her and she greeted Sabrina, Sabrina didn’t say anything but she could tell that Sabrina had quit ties with Chloe. She was always looking down and silent when Chloe was brought up and made no effort to defend her.

“Marinette, after Chloe......... I realised I don’t really have any other close friends and our partnership plus everything that happened.......... I don’t know if you want to give being friends another shot?” Sabrina asked softly and Marinette smiled in response. She may regret giving Chloe her second chance but she was confident she will not do the same with Sabrina.

After seeing the answer Sabrina jumped with joy and told her “so I am guessing you don’t want your homework done but anything you want done instead? I could help you with your website or help make everything, since we’re friends now you don’t have to pay me! I hear you babysit so I could do it for you and I hear you are going out with Luka, I could spy on him to learn all his likes for you!”

Alya and Marinette’s other friends were fighting back laughs looking at them while Marinette was exasperated. She then started their new friendship by starting a long explanation of what friends actually do and don’t do for eachother.

#also on ao3 #also on fanfiction.net #also on ao3 and fanfiction #oneshot drabble #ml spoilers #ml salt fic #miracle Queen spoilers #miracle Queen salt #miracle queen #salt fic #chloe salt #marinette dupain cheng #luka x marinette #lukanette #sabrina raincomprix #lukanette stays together in this au #post miracle queen

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johannstutt413 · 4 years

Text

(requested by anonymous)

“Alright, that’s all for today.” The Doctor stretched in his chair. “Made pretty good time, too.”

“Mmhmm.” Schwarz acknowledged his comment.

He stood up, throwing on his jacket. “You wanna grab a drink? I’ll buy.”

“You’re still trying?” She shook her head. “I won’t say no to a drink.”

“Before you fully agree, though, one condition: you tell me how you got to where you are today. I’ve heard something about you taking out an entire clan, and I want to know how much of what the rumor mill fed me is true.”

Schwarz thought for a moment. “You’ll buy the whole night?”

“The whole night,” he agreed. “Get whatever strikes your fancy, I’ll foot the bill.”

“Alright. You, me, two bottles of good whiskey, and I’ll tell you my story.”

The Doctor nodded. “Sounds like a fair trade to me. To the bar.”

“So, yeah...that’s my story.” They were at a table in the bar, several bottles of whiskey in front of them (one half-empty, the others fully drained). “Like I said, it’ll keep you up at night - took awhile for me to get over it, I know.”

“That is a nasty one...I wonder if the old me would’ve batted an eye, though. From what I’ve heard, I’ve been a part of similar events, both the winning and losing sides. Did you get the clean break you’d wanted?”

Schwarz thought for a moment. “Mostly. I don’t have any guilt about what I did, but...I still carry that training, those scars, the pit in my heart covered over with others’ blood and Ceylon. That poor girl - she still thinks I can be saved. Imagine that.”

“She’s not the only one,” the Doctor smirked. “This might be a bit rich coming from me, but I bet there’s still hope for you.”

“You really mean that, Doctor?”

He nodded. “I do. There’s your connection with Ceylon, which you might laugh at me considering, but...honestly, if you were truly heartless, you couldn’t even have forged that bond, and for it to have become this strong over the years since? You still have a sense of right and wrong - a rather precise one, even. Look at Lappland, look at Spectre, look at Skadi; the truly far-gone don’t have an understanding like that. And then, there’s...eh, maybe that’s too far a stretch, even if it matters to me.”

“While we’re in a spilling mood, Doctor,” Schwarz replied, “I’d prefer you do your fair share.”

“Alright, then. Well, Schwarz, the fact that you were willing to come and talk to me like this. I know you go out to drinks with the other mercenaries and whatnot every now and again, but the fact that you were willing to go into this with me, it...it made me happy.”

She shrugged. “I make Ceylon happy as well. Usually by accident.”

“Fair, but...” He was drunk enough he knew he had to be more careful about his choice of words, but also drunk enough for that definition to slip. “Is she attracted to you? Like, romantically?”

“I...I’ve never asked.”

The Doctor smirked. “That’s one big difference, then. I certainly am.”

“Hmm.” Schwarz poured another glass for herself. “Another glass, Doctor?”

“Sure.” He went to grab the bottle, but she still had her hand on it, and they ended up touching as she poured into his glass.

The Doctor pulled his hand back even as she was unfazed. Schwarz set the bottle down and gave him a look. “What is it about me you find attractive?”

“Oh boy, where do I start...” He drained his glass faster than it’d been poured. “Well, let’s be frank - you’re beautiful. I’m sure you’re more than aware of that.”

“...” Dead silence.

The Doctor responded with a disbelieving look. “Surely, someone has told you that by now. Ceylon, the Mayor, some trashy mercenary - I’m not the first person to tell you that your combat outfit leaves very little to the imagination but still leaves me fantasizing, or that your hair shines like silver and your eyes like gold, or that-”

“Doctor.” Schwarz waved her hand to tell him to stop, brightly blushing. “Please.”

“You wanted to know,” he shrugged, grabbing the bottle for himself and pouring another glass.

She sighed. “I didn’t expect you to have so much to say...”

“Have you really not been told?” The Doctor shook his head. “That’s a real shame. Besides, I didn’t even get to the harder stuff.”

“The harder stuff?”

He smirked, leaning forward. “Your faraway expressions as you fight your demons, the ones that remind me of my own at times despite the attached memories being long lost; your glare, that go-to-hell expression that doesn’t really mean malice so much as a warning to keep your distance, because everyone around you gets hurt and everything around you burns; your naturally stoic face that demands someone spend substantial time by your side to read your true emotions, something I wish I was better at...Sorry, I got lost in your eyes again.”

“Again...” Schwarz truly couldn’t believe him. “Is that why you lose your train of thought when talking to me?”

“They strike me to my core, as if they’re baring my entire soul to you...even though they clearly aren’t if you didn’t know all of this already.”

She crossed her arms and set them on the table, resting her chin on them to stare at the now-empty bottle with her ‘stoic face.’ “We’re out of alcohol.”

“I can get us more,” he shrugged. “Unless that was simply an observation?”

“...We’ve probably had enough by now.”

The Doctor nodded. “Much more and I won’t be able to work tomorrow. Can I tell you something else?”

“While we’re on the subject.”

“I’m really trying to not bring up every little thing, I promise,” he blushed. “It’s just...there’s so much about you to love.”

That seemed to be the final straw. “So much to love? Doctor, I am a shell of a person after the life I’ve led; I am a monster, bound to the shadows of the battlefield where I can mete out a life as a professional killer, a bodyguard and contract assassin who found her way to RI because of the person who freed me from my worst servitude in exchange for a lighter-than-deserved sentence. What is there to love about a person-shaped dark patch, hmm?”

“...Do you really think you’re the only monster here?”

“They’re children,” she retorted. “Children, misguided idealists, people with hope and life in their eyes-”

The Doctor’s voice picked up volume. “-Veterans.”

“...Excuse me?”

“Veterans,” he repeated. “Child soldiers, experiments in Originum compatibility gone wrong, revolutionaries, outcasts, vagabonds, warriors who should have been able to put down their swords long before now. There are Operators who have been abused, brainwashed, cut apart and sown back together, betrayed, bought and sold, cast out from their homes, stabbed, backstabbed - and that doesn’t just go for the Infected, like you and me.”

Schwarz had long since fallen silent. “Like you or me?”

“That’s right; at some point, I joined the Infected myself. If all the stories are to be believed, I’ve been a scholar, a tactician, but first and foremost a warlord cruel and unrelenting. I’ve led criminal enterprises, genocides, mass exterminations, and utterly despicable acts of sabotage and treachery in the name of some master I’ve long since forgotten my attachment to. It took losing my memory to start over, but you know what else it did? It left me a shell of a person as well, always minding my manners to not offend someone whose back has had my dagger in it once or a thousand times before, always looking for new tidbits about my past self so I can avoid being the disaster of a man I used to be, always wondering if the Operator I’m hiring on has suffered either at my hand or because of something I did in my past life. Reincarnation like this doesn’t mean my past is forgotten...it simply means I’ve forgotten it. Many of us, including yourself, don’t get that luxury...or that curse.”

“I’d...” She stared at him. “I’d never thought of it that way before.”

The Doctor sighed, standing up and donning his jacket. “I’ll walk you back to Ceylon’s.”

“I can’t let you do that; what if something happens to you on the way back?”

“I’ll say the same right back to you,” he retorted. “You know how I feel; imagine how terrible I will if you get hurt because I got you this deep into the bottles.”

Schwarz sighed. “I guess we’re spending the night together, then.”

“I guess we- what.”

“I can’t let you out of my sight,” she continued, “and you don’t want me out of yours for several reasons, so we’ll just have to spend the night together. I’m assuming your place, because Ceylon might learn something about you it’d be best for her not to figure out.”

The Doctor simply could not process this information properly. “Right, right...my room, then.”

“Let’s be on our way, then. Here - we should help each other stay on our feet.” Schwarz put an arm around his shoulder and pulled his arm around hers, and then they were off. It took some time, thanks to the staggering they were doing, but they made it to his room in one piece.

“Not that I’m ungrateful,” he managed, “but um...what’s happening tonight?”

She blinked, slowly. “You and me, sharing a room.”

“Right.” The Doctor shrugged it off, opening the door.

“Nice place.” Schwarz strolled in, a little shaky but still mostly in control. She collapsed onto his bed. “So.”

Still in the doorway, he steadied himself on the frame. “If you want the bed-”

“I want you in the bed with me.”

“Oh.” The Doctor stumbled forward, turning a fall into a tumble and standing afterwards. “Alright, then.” He shed his shoes and coat (which she had done while watching his display) and joined her.

For a few moments, nothing happened; eventually, she put a hand on his chest and gave him a probing stare. “Well?”

“...I dunno what I’m doing. One thing to dream about it, another-”

“I thought I was hopeless.” Schwarz’s statement wasn’t really a response to him. “I love Ceylon like a sister. Tonight, I want to know if I can love you like a woman.”

He collected himself - which took a moment. “Well, let’s give this a shot, then...”

He told himself he’d stop at a kiss; he was drunk, she was drunk, no guarantee if they’d remember any of what happened tonight afterwards. He told himself that would be enough, regardless of how much he wanted more. Take it slow, take it slow, take it-

Their lips met, and suddenly, the world was moving a thousand miles a minute.

#arknights #schwarz (arknights)#she's a hard nut to crack #might've mentioned that before #but we gotta remember: our doc's done some shit #everyone at RI has done some shit #with maybe one or two exceptions #but that doesn't last long thanks to reunion and other threats #so treasure what innocence you have #don't chase the future like it's the water to quench your thirst #because one day we'll all end up in the dirt #c'est la vie #arknights fic

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itsana004 · 4 years

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10 Characters for 10 people

Thank you for the tag @aoristiandariostis !! It's going to be difficult to choose only 10 favourite characters, but challenge accepted! I send the same challenge to @mizaelloverno107, @sienasiesta, @galaxymaster360, @ayse7124, @vector3996, @karenusia, @baddyzarc, @little-mx-cryptic, @aerialartistic, @animalgirl2018 and anyone who comes across this and wants to do it!

1) Liesel Meminger from The Book Thief

This is one of my absolute favourite books and movie. I remember watching this at school when I was in fifth grade and loving it and love her character. This story sets at the time of the Nazi Germany and the character of Liesel in front our eyes has been through very rough times in her early childhood, she has experienced and seen premature death from a very tender age and since the novel takes place during World War II, death is omnipresent and she constantly puts her own life on the line with her actions. She has a very unique prospective of life and was really fascinated by the power of the words, in fact she is referred as a "book thief", she has pretty much put her life on the line just to learn how to read and understand the meaning of the words, with which she has saved a life and saved her own.

2) Dolowa/Droite/Dextra from Yu-Gi-Oh! Zexal and II

This character lays a special place in my heart. Droite is presented as a classy business woman type but rather here she seems to be a person with a duty of the Maintenance of Security in the tower belonging to its creator and the Mayor, as his right hand woman, it is also confirmed that she's an elite. The reason I began to like her it's because how her true layers of personality quickly contrasted the typical business woman/seductive persona, she was nothing like it even though most of the time, the characters similar to her character design are portrayed that way. She's purely devoted to her loved ones and she doesn't got tip to toe with her boss' wishes and would face any consequnces for them. She's caring and capable and her Dueling tactics were really cool.

3) Mebara Keiichi from Higurashi no naku koro ni (kai, rei, kira)

I love love love him. Keichii is hilarious, funny, easily can get attached to but he's a tragic hero. He breaks the chains of tragic fate in utterly hopeless situations and I love how much he cares about his friends. It's absolutely tragic the deaths they have to go through, and luckly they came past it and Keichii played a great role in breaking those tragic chains.

4) Ellen/Viola from The Witch House

The Witch's House is an JRPG game and I am so sad that this doesn't have an anime or something because the plot is really awsome. Anyway, the character of Ellen, she's the main villain, so I should feel no sorrow and sympathy for this b- bery very bad person, and especially not include her in the favourite list, but my kokoro can't be helped, even though I absolutely hate her character out of frustration, but she has a tragic ass backstory to make feel damn emotional for. I hate her but I also love her, idk anymore... Next!

5) Sana from Kodomo no Omocha or Rossana

She's super energetic, and kind and compassionate and querky, silly, stupid sometimes but also very intelligent and mature. We saw so many phases of herself and her character grow. Even though she goes through really tough times, or even dying almsot, she always has a huge heart of her to forgive and come out of trauma and look at life very brightly. She was definately my role model and I am still surprised when I rewatch the way she handled her problems, and she had tones in the anime since she's an actress and lots of teenage drama. Her approach to problems was somehow many times applicable to my life and I still feel inspired by her. She's really an awsome character.

6) Katniss Everdeen from The Hunger Games

I immediately fell in love with her character the moment she volunteered for her sister. She's incredibly selfless, devoted, brave and ribellious, however it's a shame the reason that everything started by trying to protect that person is taken away from her. I loved how she realised that President Coin is just another President Snow and she killed the right person and rightfully allowed the citizens of the Districts to kill Snow. There were so many parts of the book and scenes of the movie that really drawn such a high opinion of her but I can't talk about everything other than the beginning and the end, otherwise I would take ages

7) Phoenix Wright from Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney (Apollo Justice: Ace Attorney, Dual Destiny, everything that has Phoenix and my babies Apollo and Atena in it!!)

I admire how he believes the innocence of the people and is after the truth and not winning the case, he's true, genuine and honest. I love how he does the extreme to repay people back, literally make them either his assistant, adopted daughter, his apprentice, his husband (yes I am talking about Edgy), I can't even take account of at this point.

8) Shuici Saihara from Danganronpa

I have a thing for Detectives with the name that starts with a "S", the only reason I didn't put Shinici Kudo from Detective Conan because I couldn't keep up with the series and honestly I can't, maybe one day when my online classes will end, anyway... Shuici, I like his detective work, his reasoning and the bond she formed with Kaede and his sidekick Kaito, it makes me cry just remembering it, and he's actually sensitive. I loved him even more after his reactions in Love Hotel and secret scenes. The character of Kaede was a huge influence on him, he didn't want to find the truth before because he was scared, but then he took off his cap and solved cases with his head up in the sky (I still can't get over the feels from the fact Kaede's portrait is always on Shuici's side in scrum debate to show she's always with him even after death 😭)

9) Alvin Junior from The Walking Dead

Even though I followed the series of Walking Dead for a very long time, I really got attached to Alvin Junior as much as Clementine, he's just a young god and can't convince me otherwise. Some fans didn't like AJ that much because he was new but I really saw AJ like a young Clem and Clementine now being in Lee's shoes and protecting AJ with her life just as Lee did with hers. AJ is such a mood sometimes and also really reliable. He had to make really hard calls poor guy, but I am really glad to having a happy ending

10) Agatha from the Dark Deception

Agatha is a merciless monster and a spoiled brat that will say that you're cheating by speed boost while she teleport and cut you into a corner while we're running, but I still love her <3

#10 character for 10 people challenge #the book thief #zexal #ygo zexal #yugioh zexal #droite #dextra #dolowa #mebara keichii #higurashi #the witch house #kodomo no omocha #katniss everdeen #phoenix wright #shuici saihara #danganronpa #the walking dead #dark deception #liesel meminger

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be-the-creature-fan · 4 years

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The River by be-the-creatue-fan (Read my first story AIN'T NO TIME LIKE 1969 before reading this story)

Chapter 1

"Martin? What are you doing here again? Dr. Corvado was looking everywhere for you!"

Martin turned around to see who was talking to him.

"Mom?! What are you doing here?"

"It's a good thing that we've found you in time." Linda Kratt said as she grabbed Martin arm and took Martin away from the tomb stone.

"Mom, what are you doing? where are you taking me?"

She didn't say a single word and they both continued walking until they got to the parking lot. There stood an ambulance type vehicle with several doctors and police officers that ran towards him.

"Mom? MOM! What are you doing? what's going on!?"

Linda remained silent but her eyes were starting to water up as the doctors restrained him and shoved him into the back. One of the doctors looked very familiar, Martin looked at the name tag that was on the doctors shirt. Dr Corvado.

"Aviva! Oh man it's so good to see a familiar face!"

But Aviva didn't say a word, and ignored him. Martin being very confused still tried to talk to her, but with no luck.

"Aviva it's me Martin, Me, You, Chris, Koki and Jimmy would go around the world to rescue animals. you're a genius inventor and-"

"Smith! he's speaking crazy talk again, we should probably give him the shot now."

"Alright Corvado he's your patient."

"Wait what shot? Aviva you have to listen to me we were friends you have to beli-"

And just like that Martin was out cold.

Chapter 2

(Flashback to July 20th 1973)

It was what you would call a perfect summer day, the sun was shining, the sky was blue and excitement was still in the air. Chris had just celebrated his 4th birthday and he was still hyped about being another year older, but he was even more excited to go with Martin and his older sisters to the near by river at the place where the whole family camped.

"Bill are you sure Chris is old enough to go with them to that river?"

"Linda, of course he's old enough, they're going to the shallow part of the river, and plus I'll be close by incase the kids need anything."

"Oh alright, have fun you guys!"

As Bill, Martin, his sisters and Chris got closer to the river the more excited Chris became.

"Martin are we there yet?"

"It's going to be awhile until we get there, but don't worry we'll be in there in no time"

But Chris wasn't the most patient kid and decided to run ahead.

"Now Chris don't run to far ahead yah hear!" Bill called out.

"I won't!"

After a while of walking and running they finally made it to the river, only to find it flooded from the storm the night before.

"Welp, looks like we can't go swimming gang"

"WHAT!? But why Daddy?" Chris winned

"Well you see squirt, the river is over flooded, it's too dangerous to go swimming, but, it's not to dangerous to go berry picking" Bill said as he pointed towards some blackberry bushes. "Doesn't that sound like fun?"

"Uh I guess" Chris said a little disappointed.

So Martin, his sisters and Chris started picking blackberries close to the river as Bill went fishing just up river not to far from them.

"Man it's hot outside, I'm gonna cool off in the river"

"But Martin, Daddy said to not go in the river because it's to dangerous" Chris said

"Yea, he said it was dangerous for you because your to little"

"I'm not too little, I just turned 4!"

"Yea, and I'm 7 almost 8, I'm technically a man, and I'm old enough to go into the river if I want to."

Chris didn't take that to kindly and wanted to prove that he wasn't the little kid that everybody thought he was. When no one was watching he decided that's when he would make his move to go into the river.

"Chris what are you doing?" Susan said (one of the twin sisters)

Chris didn't respond as he jumped into the river. Chris underestimated the depth and power of the river as he was swept away by the strong current.

"MARTIN! Chris jumped in the river!" "He's getting carried down river!"Both Christine and Susan screamed.

Martin turned around to see Chris's head pop out for a split second, before the current pulled it back down.

"Susan! Go and get Dad! Me and Christine will try to get Chris out!"

Susan ran to get Bill as Martin got out of the river because even he knew that the current was to strong for him.

"MARTIN! HELP ME! *GASP* MOMMA ,PAPA *GASP* SAVE ME!...... save me....." Chris's head went under again.

"CHRIS! NOOOOO!"

(A few hours later)

Mr and Mrs. Kratt, we've found your son's body down river and I regret to inform you that your son didn't make . We are so sorry for your lost. we need-....................................

Martin and his sisters were sitting inside the trailer, he could hear his mom screaming in agony, he looked out the window to see them both crying. That's when Martin knew, but that's not how it was happen, Chris didn't die, he couldn't have died, he didn't die, he didn't die, he didn't die!

(Back in Present day)

Martin woke up to find himself in what seemed to be some sort of jail cell.

"Martin, you awake?"

"Jimmy? Is that you?"

Chapter 3

"Jimmy! Oh my gosh I'm so glad you're here! Where is here anyways"

"We're in some sort of insane esylem, but that's all I know because HOW ON EARTH DID WE GET HERE!!!"

"What is the last thing you remember?"

"Well, I was asleep in the Tortuga and the next thing I heard was sombody screaming and when I woke up I ended up here. I saw Aviva but for some reason she didn't respond, it was like she didn't recognize me"

"Wait do you remember Chris being alive?"

"Yea why wouldn't he be alive...unless. What happened while I was asleep?"

Martin explained what had happened to him, Chris's gravestone. the strange dream and how Aviva treated him on his way to the esylem.

"Oh my gosh...OH MY GOSH!"

"Jimmy what is it?"

"Its all wrong, this wasn't supposed to happen, when Chris went to the past, something happened that messed up the space time continuum."

"Well, how are we going to fix it?!"

"I-I don't know, its going to be hard to find the cause of how or what caused this to be our new reality. Time is very complicated stuff."

"Wait, how do you know about this stuff?"

"Martin, I don't just sleep, eat pizza and play video games all day. I usually subcaunsely listen to what Aviva and Koki talk about when it comes to complicated things like time trampolines and such."

"Oh"

"Hey Cell 37! SHUT UP!"

Martin and Jimmy turned to see one of the guards banging his fist on thier cell door. Then they saw the shadows of two other faceless figures before the door opened.

"I don't know how you escaped this time, but we'll make sure that it doesn't happen again yah hear?" The first person said

Martin and Jimmy were very confused as the 2nd figure walked in. Aviva walked in with a huge syringe. That was the last thing both Martin and Jimmy remembered.

Chapter 4

Martin and Jimmy were laying on their bunks. Numb, Cold, Afraid, their heads were pounding and they both were uncontrollable twitching. Martin's eyes began to water from the pain that he felt. Jimmy on the other hand felt anger and rage, his blood began to boil. Jimmy jumped from his bunk and ran to their cell door.

"YOU HEARTLESS SWINE!!! WE'RE NOT THE CRAZY ONES, YOU'RE THE CRAZY BIT-"

"Jimmy?" Martin said with a weak voice. "Was Chris ever alive? Or was I just crazy this whole time?"

"No, Martin, your not crazy, we're not crazy, Chris was alive. He was alive..."

The Next few days were rough for Jimmy and Martin as their hope began to dwindle. Martin kept having the same nightmares of his brother's death as well as having the same horrible dream of him just disappearing from existence like what he had originally witnessed, as the days passed it was getting harder to believe what was true. Jimmy was also going through a rough time. He still felt utterly betrayed by Aviva and missed Koki dearly.

"I wonder where Koki is?"

"Who knows." Martin said kind of miffed

"You know I loved her, right? I-I wanted to tell her how I felt...b-but I was always too chicken, a-and now I might never get the chance."

"Well sucks to be you. At least Koki might be alive somewhere, but guess what, Chris is dead and everyone thinks I'm a looney!"

Jimmy fell silent as he was to angry to say a word.

Weeks turned into months and not a word was spoken.

Until one day Martin overheard a conversation.

"I think I did it!"

"Did what Ms Corvado?"

"Well, for the past couple of years I've been working on a time machine and now I've think I've done it!"

"So she has been working on a time machine" Jimmy said kind of miffed.

"But what good would that do" Martin said feeling rather hopeless "it not like we can fix any of this, or can we..."

(Meanwhile with Chris)

Martin, that was the last thing Chris saw before he felt as if he was drowning. Fear was the last feeling that Chris had before he dissapeared into the abyss.

"Wh-Where am I?"

But the only response he got was an echo. His surroundings were white at first before becoming more clear. The first thing that came into focus was the green grass and the surrounding tombstones, soon more things came into focus he spotted Martin standing infront of one of the tombstones.

"Martin!" Chris yelled as he ran towards his brother to embrace him, but he went right through him.

Martin didn't hear him, he couldn't hear him, he couldn't feel him, Chris was nothing more than a soul.

(I'm putting this story on hold I am so sorry for leaving this on a cliff hanger I just need to think how I'm going to continue the story because honestly I ran out of ideas. Oop)

#wild kratts #kratt brothers #chris kratt #martin kratt #why am i doing this #please help me #major oof

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doctorgerth · 4 years

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Matchup for @laceymorganwrites

Name: Lacey

Interests: Cosplay, listening to Music (especially rock Music and punk/Pop punk, emo stuff too), hanging out with and annoying my 4 cats, writing (been getting into writing Poetry and more lyrics lately) and I love baking (I´m a stress baker)

Appearance: I´m 5´5, so Pretty Tiny. I have a flat chest which I used to be insecure About but now I love it because it´s easier to do everything. I have dark blue eyes and dyed hair which is a washed out Purple Right now and it´s getting way too Long. I want to have an undercut again when I´m able to go to a hairdresser again and I want to dye my hair a nice orange Color next. Fashion wise I would describe my stlye as grunge with a few punk Elements (I am in love with cool jackets and checkered pants). I Always put on way too much jewelry and like to Experiment with my Outfits, Makeup and hair as a way to express myself

Personality: I´m shy when Meeting new People and get uncomfortable in big crowds of People I don´t know (doesn´t apply to any Events like concerts, only happens in friend Groups when there are many People I don´t know). I have social anxiety and talk way too much whenever I get anxious. I´ve become Pretty good at dealing with it though, there are only very Little phases where it gets worse now. I´m also better at Talking to People now even though I try my best not to talk too much which results in me not Talking at all. I have been told many times that I´m arrogant because of that. I have a very weird Humor and laugh at the most random Things, but I laugh a lot which I like. I´m lazy but I have my own Kind of time Management to get everything done. I´m a hopeless romantic and very clingy which is problematic to some in a relationship. Oh and I´m also very bad at expressing my Feelings, I have Trouble showing my happiness/excitement etc. Once I warm up to someone I get really weird and hyper too. I´d like a romantic match-up please, my star sign is a Leo, I never took the personality test, I hope that´s okay and I don´t care About the gender of my match

Thanks so much for requesting, Lacey!! I really hope you enjoy your matches. 🤩💘

Your match is...

Bartolomeo (Libra)

You and Barto make a good pair because of your shared aesthetics and interests. He is very much into the same music and you two have lots of fun attending all kinds of concerts together! He’s mildly allergic to cats so he won’t play with them much, but he’s always amused at seeing you annoy them. Plus, your cats really love him for some reason so it’s even more amusing to watch him struggle to fend them off. Barto also loves sweets, especially yours, and he is more than willing to help you in the kitchen when you need him. He learned the hard way to stay out when you’re stress baking though...Barto also finds your style appealing and inspiring. Much like him, you’re confident in who you are and you love to express yourself in some of the most unique ways and he always supports you in all of your fashion experiments.

Furthermore, you two also make a good couple based off of your differing personalities! You are more reserved in nature, especially when meeting new people. On the flip side of that, it’s nearly impossible to fluster Barto (unless you or Luffy are around) so he hardly ever meets a stranger. He’s very outspoken and can be a bit vulgar which astonishes you, but his encouragements help to bring you out of your shell! There’s no need to feel embarrassed when he’s by your side. Plus, he’s more than guilty of loving to show you off and brag about how amazing you are in every way, so he tends to throw you into all kinds of social situations just to do so. If he notices that it really bothers you, then he’ll know to back off. He's guilty of finding your anxious rambling adorable and so he usually just tries to match your pace to make you feel less awkward, rambling crazily right beside you. When you’re in your silent moods, he’ll try to incorporate environments and people you are more familiar with to help you feel comfortable. Barto never just throws you out to the sharks, but, you can’t possibly expect him to keep precious you all to himself! Much like his adoration for Luffy, he’s never shy in expressing his adoration for you.

You two share a very strange humor which makes your relationship so fulfilling. You two can laugh at the same things and find the same kind of enjoyment in life. He will do whatever it takes to keep you smiling and laughing because he is utterly in love with your joyous expressions. He understands otherwise you’re not very open with your emotions. This took him some time to get used to as Barto is consistently an open book, but as soon as he cracked that shell of yours and your true colors began to shine, you can say that’s when he knew you were the one for him! Whenever you seem to be struggling with your expressions, he’ll be patient with you. Which surprises everyone because he’s not usually a patient man, but you and your love have taught him how to be! Barto is surprisingly perceptive and can read on even the most subtle hints from you to understand what you’re feeling. He doesn’t mind if you struggle to express yourself, he just always has to know that you’re okay so please be vocal about your problems with him if any arise. Other than this, he will be utterly silly to help you let loose a little! He is head over heels for your clinginess, it makes him feel so loved and special, so don’t ever worry about it being too much. Barto has lots of love for you and can be equally clingy. He also finds your hyper moods totally charming because he’s a silly man with a hyper attitude to match! You two are different in so many ways, but you both embrace these differences as they help you two grow as people and improve your relationship. You also have lots of similarities that help make the relationship feel comfortable and homey. You never have to be anyone else around each other!

Other potential suitors:

Usopp (Aries) - Usopp is very gentle and patient with your social anxiety. He doesn’t have much problem with meeting new people (unless they’re scary) so he has the confidence to help you get through it and become more comfortable. In general, Usopp is very loving and gentle towards you, despite your punk/bad ass aesthetic. He enjoys your clinginess and random bursts of energy once you finally got comfortable around him, because he can be equally clingy and hyper! He understands how tough it is to break down your walls to people, so he was very patient in winning you over. Usopp is a total goofball with his exaggerated adventures that he’s really helped you in learning how to express yourself more clearly, especially when you are happy and excited! Usopp helps to bring all the best sides of you out and helps you embrace them.

Nojiko (Leo) - You two share a lot of similarities as you both are Leos, but there’s some unique differences that helps to keep your romance exciting. She’s not very clingy, but she doesn’t mind how much you can be. In fact, once learning how clingy and dependent you can be it made her very protective of you. She finds your aesthetic very interesting and finds herself wanting to experiment much like you. She also likes to join you when it comes to baking. She can be pretty introverted herself when around new people, but she has enough to drive to get over it and ease you through your social anxiety. She likes that you make her laugh. Even when you struggle to express yourself, you find ways to make her smile and giggle and that’s something she truly treasures in your relationship.

Katakuri (Sagittarius) - You two also share a very similar aesthetic that makes you look so cute together. Like you, Katakuri struggles in expressing himself, but when you two are around each other, you seem to become more open? It was a bit awkward at first, as genuine expressions were a new concept to the two of you, but once you realized how happy you make each other, it was nearly impossible to keep all that happiness in! You two make each other laugh and smile, even during the most inopportune times, and you embrace the joyous emotions you share with each other. He was very thrown off by your clinginess and random bursts of energy once you finally opened up to him, just because he’s not used to that kind of affection, but he’s grown to love it all. He gets a bit concerned when you’re not attached to his hip throughout the day!

#doctorgerth #one piece #one piece matchup #op matchup #matchup #1000 follower event #matchup event #follower event #laceymorganwrites

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anderffels · 4 years

Text

my thoughts about tlou2 under a read more bc they are mostly negative lol

ok i really need to vent somewhere and here is the place lmao

ironicaly, i’m going to start with abby bc i think it is, somehow, the easiest part to talk about. i’m going to keep this story and narrative-wise but i have to say that playing as her became fun. the way she contrasts with ellie’s gameplay is awesome and kudos to the character designers bc she is damn intimidating in a way female antagonists NEVER get to be. now, to the narrative. i actually grew to like her story bc, surprise, hers is the only narrative in the damn game that gets to have character development. she is the only one ‘seeking the light’. i felt kind of bad that i liked her parts more than ellie’s until i realized this, because how can i not latch onto the only bit of hope this game has to offer? abby and lev’s rship is that. (though i do think it is a bit of a mess how they could not be sure who they were trying to paralel abby off of? like we get it she is like joel bc hate and disillusionment consumed her until she found small child to take care of but wait she is also like ellie bc she has two close friends one of whom she loves who are having a child!! oops!!! pregnant ladies squared!!! also i only get pedantic about medical stuff if i’m really bitter but hey, i am so, wtf was up with dina’s pregnancy lmao that is not how pregnancy works ANYWAY)

meanwhile, ellie’s arc is absolutely bleak. every moment of happiness and warmth we get from the flashbacks is tainted with the cruelty we know is coming. i have been thinking that my problems with the game were bc i loved joel and couldn’t really get over his death but i love ellie too. even if i cared nothing for joel, ellie gets no real development? she is traumatized in a brutal way and there is no... real closure there? if i’m being benevolent i would say the most she gets is finally accepting what joel did for her, and learning to embrace the life he has given her but SHE WAS ALREADY PREPARED TO TAKE THAT ROAD. which is why that last scene with joel is awful, and not only in an utterly heartbreaking way, but in how meaningless everything that happened was.

like how is this the best way to tell this story!! unles ofc all we want is character death as shock value and another trite story about the circle of violence bc we clearly need another videogame to tell us that instead of a follow up to the story that told us that “you keep finding reasons to survive” and “all we’ve been through, it can’t be for nothing”. why would you take that story from the first game and warp it into this??? it could have been so much more. why did we need so much misery to tell us what we knew all along? that ellie has a gentle heart and the violence of this world they live in will do its best to break her but she won’t? (this is something that rlly bothers me a lot bc i saw someone say that tlou1 had no real message about violence and ??? what was that scene with david lmao. but sure. sure.)

but no. joel was butchered and the only reason was that the writers couldn’t find an interesting way to keep the story going and as much as they keep saying “the story was about ellie all along” they mistreated her so badly and caused her to suffer for this new narrative of hopelessness and loss that she ALREADY KNEW. she already suffered a lot of losses in her life. all those gifsets with joel’s quote from the first game about how she did not know what loss was, like she only knows now???!!! she already knew what loss was. she had overcome it. she was in the process of overcoming survivor’s guilt and the game took all the progress she had made, not only during tlou but during the years between games, and put it back to square one and completely ignored the doubts that plagued here now about what joel had done, how her life should have mattered. i’ve read some people say that a lot of criticism of this game is bc we just wanted a repeat of the first one but at least what i wanted was the events of the ending of the game to MATTER. to REFLECT on ellie’s character in a way that she could grow from.

(and don’t get me started on tommy OH MY GOD. he was all for returning to jackson and then you’re telling me he would change his mind so radically as to pressure ellie into RISKING HER LIFE, letting revenge consume him to the point where he breaks it off with maria???? TOMMY. TOMMY WHO NEVER EVEN WANTED REVENGE FOR JOEL IN THE FIRST PLACE BC IT WOULD RISK TOO MUCH, WHO NEVER THOUGHT VIOLENCE WAS THE ANSWER OH MY GOD

i was ready for this game to make me cry, to touch something deep within that the first one had. i got that feeling during the prologue where joel sings the song and plays the guitar. the rest were only the tears lol. i expect it will win a lot of awards but this is not good storytelling. making a climax that will stay with the players is NOT hard if all you do is pile tragedy upon tragedy and pain upon pain, and that is all that that final confrontation is, with abby’s story akwardly placed in the middle like hey! are we ready for some conflicting point of views?!! you’d better!!!. but there’s no resolution. no closure. ellie gets to keep the ptsd and the nightmares and whatever but ofc that’s not something that we want to dwell on right.

#tlou

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diveronarpg · 4 years

Photo

In fair Verona, our tale begins with FAUST CONTRERAS, who is FORTY-FIVE years old. He is often called FORTINBRAS and works for the MONTAGUES as their INITIATE. He uses HE/HIM pronouns.

Faust’s childhood was a relatively peaceful one, all things considered. He was the son of one of the three major organized crime groups in Chile at the time, and while he saw the violence, bloodshed, and addiction first hand, he also experienced the relative luxury of his life. His shoes never had holes in them, he always had food on the table, he had a good education and as many books as he wanted to read. Perhaps it is this even-handed existence that has given him a patient and methodical temperament in adulthood. He thinks before he acts and looks before he leaps, and it has rewarded him well; in a nation defined by being the middle-man between those around it when it comes to drugs, trafficking, and all sorts of exploits, it is best to know what you want before you sign on any dotted line. Born and bred for leadership, it was no surprise that he took to it well, and by the time he was twenty-five he had cultivated the people he knew would be with him, his inner circle, for the rest of his time as Don. It was picture perfect, as the life of an heir went; perhaps that is why it was destined for tragedy.

His right and left hands were Vicente and Mateo, cousins both and more trusted than anyone had any right to be. Together, and with the aid of their family, they built more than a familia. Together they would build an empire. They expanded the Contreras investment in drugs and took over the hospitals slowly and methodically, then moved on to poaching trade routes. Some might say they were reaching too high, and far too fast, but Faust had watched the other families grow lax as he grew into adulthood, secure in the knowledge that the status quo would be maintained. That was not good enough for a man like Faust. He wanted control, utterly and absolutely, and he would wade through blood to do it. He may have been handed the crown, but each new mission he dipped it in blood, until it soaked through his hair and into his very skin. He had never been taught the simple morality of a civilian, you see, and he had never had a gentle influence to temper him. The boy grew into a man as sharp as a blade and with a tongue as precise and deadly, and in the fifteen years of his reign, he was nigh unstoppable.

Yet all things come to an end, and Faust’s end came at the sound of a gun, at Vicente’s blood on his hands. He was coming for you, he breathed as his own gun fell from his hands, I was almost too late. In the blink of an eye, Mateo and Vicente took each other from this world, as they had all come into it together. For a moment, he considered joining them. What use was it to be the king when he had been so fucking blind? He hadn’t seen how Mateo chafed at acting in secret, how he had grown arrogant and bold beneath his notice. Nor had he seen how Vicente protected him, not only from the flash of the muzzle but from the very knowledge itself. One, too eager to act without worrying him, and the other eager to displace him. It was a terrible blow to someone who considered himself so thorough and patient, who had never been prone to hedonism or hubris. Faust Contreras had been out-played twice over, and though the rest of his familia wasn’t told the details, it wasn’t hard to deduce. He left them before someone sorrier and worse able to manage their affairs decided he was ripe for another test, leaving the empire in Chile to his own heir; his sister’s boy, who was clever and charismatic and more than anything, observant. He wished him well, in the end. A better life than Faust had conjured.

After that, he wandered. The power of his name was still enough to sustain him, for the Contreras’ had their hands in every pot in Latin America, all roads to profit running through them. He garnered some talent as a fixer, but soon he found that he had more ambition than he thought, for fixing other peoples’ problems didn’t quite satisfy his hunger. Kings are born one of two ways: wading through the gore of a conquest with their sword at their side, or with golden crowns atop their heads and rings on their skeletal hands. Faust didn’t care which he was anymore, some amalgom of both and neither, but he knew one thing: there were places on this earth he could still rule, if he wished it. That was what brought him to Verona, after all, and he’d already treated with Damiano as the ghost he’d left behind. It was easy to play to the man’s pride, to let him lord how far Faust had fallen over him, never quite realizing that it was Faust’s choice to fall, like the angels of old. The man was easy to fool, and Faust counted himself content, because Verona was a city in need of order. If there was any place that he could renew his crown, it would be here, in the midst of chaos and viciousness. The old Fortinbras was dead, he figured, out of hubris and shortsightedness. He couldn’t blame the man; both were easy to fall victim to, but he’d made his mistakes enough already. He could take this old name and make it his, and with or without the blessing of Damiano Montague, show Verona what a real King could do. It was only a matter of time.

ARMAND GIORDANO: Ghost. The moment he saw Armand, he saw Vicente’s eyes in an entirely different face. It was so startling, in fact, that he hasn’t been able to meet Armand’s eyes since. Does he know? Can he see the way he haunts Faust with every word, every look, every step in his direction? He’s not sure whether Armand cares, as focused as he is on Roman, but sometimes he wants him to look, if only to see the grief reflected back. Don’t let yourself get subsumed by it, he pleads without words, because the thought of explaining it all makes him sick. That empty devotion will lead him to his grave if he’s not careful, but how can Faust explain what it is to thread the needle? How can he show someone how to balance on the edge of a knife, between losing yourself in the needs of others and not being there when they do, in fact, need you? It’s not a selfless desire to protect that he sees in Armand, it’s a selfish one, and that scares him more than anything.

CARLO AMARANTE: Mark. It’s not difficult to spot the indents of a collar on someone’s neck when you’ve put a dozen or two there yourself. Carlo is all hunched shoulders, all paranoia, all exhaustion, and Faust knows that look so well because he’s cultivated it. Here is a tool ready-made, and he would thank the gods for sending them into his path, if he believed in them at all anymore. Instead, he merely finds ways to feel Carlo out, to spend time with them and see where their head is at. They’ve been rode hard, that much is certain, but are they ready to open themselves up to the words of another deity? He can’t tell, but when Carlo is ready, Faust will be ready as well. I’d take much better care of you, he thinks as he watches the weight fill his eyes and the hopelessness sink in, I’d make sure you never felt the marks.

BATTISTA TAHAN & POPPY: Protégés. Faust made his empire by being a middle-man, and it’s that same quality he now sees in these two, though for very different reasons. Poppy has the makings of a perfect money-laundering system at her feet, but she remains wild and volatile, endangering what she’s worked so hard to build. He doesn’t want to tame that part of her, but he wants to use it to build her reputation - if she’ll let him. For Battista, it’s simple: medics and hospitals are the easiest ways to traffic drugs in the world. If he would get himself a proper license, he could deal throughout Verona without detection from the police; hell, he could deal to the police in their sickbeds, but he’s reticent to do so, and Faust for the life of him can’t understand why. He’s in the mafia, is he not? He wanted to be there, did he not? Then he better get used to what being a part of the machine means, and Faust will teach him the easy way or watch as someone else teaches it to him hard.

IVAN RAHAL: Potential. When he first realized that the Capulets were using one of the greatest technical minds in the world to run a fight club, Faust thought it was a joke. Sure, in his off time, maybe, but as his main position within their organization? It was a foolish decision indeed, and he began to wonder just how little the Capulets value that first rate mind, if they’re keeping it in a place like that. Curious, Faust began to attend those fights, and even began to win them, enough that he would interact with Ivan at any rate. Playing as though he was curious about the other side (as an Initiate, it wasn’t hard), he instead began to feel out whether Ivan was interested in crossing the adige, with methodical, careful precision. His words were not honey; they were far too pragmatic for that, yet they certainly have their charms, for Ivan Rahal still listens, and sometimes Faust thinks he catches the glimmer of interest before it’s hastily tucked away.

Faust is portrayed by PEDRO PASCAL and was written by ROGUE. He is currently OPEN.

#lsrpg #lsrp #literate rp #bio rp #pedro pascal fc #o #m #om #mont #faust contreras

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chuffyfan87 · 4 years

Text

Growing Pains. Part 2a

Cowritten with @disastrousintention. Trigger warnings for discussion of abuse.

-x-

Luckily for Charlie and Duffy they both got a lie in on Boxing Day. At least until half seven, when the two youngest boys woke up and clambered into their parents' bedroom and under the covers with mum and dad. Laughing that they were both naked and repeatedly shouting boobies and willy.

"Morning boys." Duffy sighed, a blush colouring her cheeks as she tried to grab for her dressing gown without getting out from under the duvet.

Charlie groaned, “Boys, boys. Ssh.” He shook his head fondly. “Can mummy and daddy get dressed first?”

"Can we watch cartoons?" Oli asked.

“Yes. But not for long, ok?”

"Yay!" Paul yelled as he bounced out the bed, knocking the duvet half off the bed in the process.

"Paul!" Duffy gasped.

“Sorry mummy!” He called as him and Oli went back to their room.

Charlie rolled over and kissed Duffy’s ear, “Remind me next time to lock the door.” He whispered.

"You are utterly hopeless sometimes!" She rolled her eyes, her hands on her hips.

“Hmm. I know.” He yawned, “I don’t know about you but I’m exhausted.”

"Actually despite your best efforts to keep me awake with your snoring I had a great night's sleep." She replied smugly.

“Glad...” He yawned again before continuing, “...one of us did.”

"You were asleep before I was." She replied, her eyebrow raised. "You sure you're OK?" The worry was creeping back into her voice again.

“Yes.” He smiled and kissed her tenderly. “I’d tell you if I wasn’t.”

"Promise?"

“Promise.”

"Love you." She smiled, giving him another kiss.

“Love you too.” He smiled against her lips.

"We could just let the boys watch cartoons for a while longer and get back into bed..?"

“Hmm, we could.” He yawned again and cuddled her.

"Get back into bed. I insist!" She giggled.

“Yes boss.”

She stuck her tongue out at him.

He licked her tongue playfully before getting back into bed.

"You're weird!" She giggled, pulling a face at him as she joined him in the bed.

“Maybe.” He laughed gently and stroked her hips.

"You're supposed to be resting!"

“I am.” He laughed gently.

"Hmm..." She replied, not totally convinced.

“I’m just touching.”

"And we both know what touching leads to..." She smirked.

“Fucking?” He smirked.

"Go to sleep!" She was attempting to be stern with him but couldn't stop her body from reacting to his familiar touch.

He smiled, “I will.” He stroked her hips again and rested his head on her shoulder. He went back to sleep easily.

Duffy watched her husband sleep for a while before falling asleep herself.

Forty minutes later, Charlie woke up in a bit of discomfort. He rubbed his chest.

Duffy kept glancing over at Charlie as they began the military style operation to get all the kids ready for the trip to their gran's for the day.

Just as they were leaving, Charlie pulled Duffy to the side. “I don’t want to worry you but...”

"But..?" She asked, the worry clear on her face.

“I’ve been getting niggles in my chest.”

"I knew it! Charlie!"

“I don’t want to worry you. It’s hopefully and probably nothing.”

"You should get it checked out." She insisted.

“I will. I just don’t want you to panic.”

"With your history? Are you going to go now?"

“We’ll go to your mum’s first. I don’t want to worry the kids.”

"Because you keeling over at mum's won't concern them at all..." She replied sarcastically.

“You’re so sarcastic.” He squeezed her bum playfully.

"Charlie..!" She warned, though her voice wasn't as stern as she would've liked.

“I will go once the kids are with your mum.”

"Peter has his car. I'm sure his brothers would happily get in with him. Then I can drive the girls and the youngest boys in my car."

“Are you sure?” Charlie asked. “I don’t mind going to your mum’s and making sure you’re all there.”

"I'd rather you went straight to the hospital if you're not feeling well. Once I've dropped the kids off at mum's I'll head over to join you."

Knowing he wasn’t going to win the argument, Charlie agreed to go straight to the hospital.

It ended up taking Duffy much longer than she anticipated before she joined Charlie at the hospital. Her mum had insisted on asking lots of awkward questions despite the fact that Duffy was trying desperately to downplay the seriousness of the situation in front of the children. So by the time she reached the department she was stressed and deeply concerned.

Charlie was sat in a cubicle, fiddling with his wedding ring. He hadn’t wanted to worry Duffy or the children either. He looked up at the sound of her boots clattering against the floor before the curtain flew open. “Babe, I’m fine.” He told her, attempting to reassure her.

"You sure?" She asked, slightly out of breath, raking one hand through her hair as the other grabbed for his notes that lay on the end of the trolley.

He watched her, “They're private and confidential you know.” He smirked.

"And I'm a nurse so I'm allowed to read them." She shrugged, flashing him a mischievous grin.

He patted the bed space in front of him. “Pulse is a bit high.”

"So I see." She replied as she jumped up to perch on the bed.

“I haven’t told them what happened.” He smiled, rubbing her thigh.

"What do you mean? You're supposed to tell them everything so they can accurately diagnose what's wrong!"

“I can’t tell them,” he blushed.

"Since when were you so shy? Do you want me to tell them instead?"

He looked at Duffy and shook his head, “I’ll tell them...”

"Thank you." She sighed. "I told the kids you'd been called into work and that you needed me to give you a hand too."

“Thank you.”

"What am I going to do with you eh?" She stroked her thumb across his cheek.

“I don’t know."

"Do you want me to go get the doctor so you can tell them the truth this time? Who's treating you? Zoe or Dylan?"

“Dylan.”

"And you were too scared to tell him the truth? I would have understood a bit more if it had been Zoe, but Dylan? Really?"

“It’s embarrassing.”

"Its not the first time its happened."

“I know.” He sighed. “I’ll be honest with him.”

"Thank you. You may just need to adjust your medication. It's nothing to be ashamed of."

“I know.” He squeezed her hand.

She lent back slightly, resting on her other hand. "Not quite how I envisioned spending boxing day..." She mused.

“Me either.” He sighed. “I’m sorry that my dodgy ticker is giving us jip again. At least this time we had sex.”

"True. It could have been worse. The way you were pounding me against that wall I'm surprised I didn't catch my head and end up having a fit." She joked darkly.

“Shit! I never thought of that.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry.” He said sheepishly.

"I was teasing you. You don't have the force in you for that."

He stroked her cheek. “Right pair we would’ve been. One heart attack and one seizure due to a rough fuck against the bedroom wall.” He began to laugh.

"The kids would have gone ballistic." She replied, joining in his laughter.

“Duffy?”

"Charlie?" She replied with a grin.

“I love you.” He ran his thumb over her lower lip.

She kissed his thumb lightly.

He met her gaze and just held it for a while.

They were eventually interrupted by Dylan clearing his throat awkwardly.

“I need to be honest with you, Dylan.” Charlie began as he looked up.

After giving Duffy a small nod of acknowledgement Dylan placed his fists on his hips and waited for Charlie to continue.

“My chest pain started last night, when Duffy and I were... having sex...”

"I see... And you waited til now to come in?" Dylan asked, his voice remaining neutral, the quirking of his right eyebrow the only clue that he disapproved of Charlie's decision.

“I thought I’d be ok after a sleep. Thought it was because of how rough we were. But the pain's still been there throughout the morning.”

"You have had a previous heart attack and other issues. It would have been prudent to come in sooner."

“I know. I was a bit embarrassed actually.” Charlie admitted.

"You could have attended St James'."

“I could have. But I know I have one of the best departments in Holby.”

"Indeed. I'm going to reassess your test results now I have a more accurate understanding of events. I suggest in the interim that you both consider a more appropriate hobby." Dylan stated before turning and leaving the cubicle.

“But having sex is a fun hobby to have, Dylan.” Charlie replied back.

Dylan just shook his head in response as he walked away.

Duffy couldn't help but giggle. "Well... That went well..!"

“Urgh. I don’t think we’ll find a new hobby to participate in.”

"I wonder what he considers an appropriate hobby..." She mused, still giggling.

“Dog walking, probably.”

"I have always enjoyed the great outdoors..." She smirked.

“Oh I know.” Charlie smirked.

"I doubt that's what he'd have in mind though..."

“Do you remember that stunt we pulled when Paul was about a month old?”

"You mean the time we nearly got caught by the police?"

“Yes.”

"We really have gotten into some scrapes together!" She giggled.

He laughed, “Yes we really have.”

"We bring out each other's naughty side."

“You’ve always brought out my naughty side.”

"Oh I'm to blame am I?"

“My dirty mind is to blame.”

"You've always had a dirty mind." She ran her fingers through his thinning hair. "You feeling any better?"

“Yes, darling, I am.” He smiled.

"That's good. Hopefully they'll let you go home soon."

“I hope so. It’s awfully boring as a patient.”

#chuffy #charlie fairhead #charlie and duffy #lisa duffin

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cardshcrp · 5 years

Text

rosé

He comes into the world fighting. In the middle of the tired screams and mumbled encouragement, exhausted doctors and nurses worn too thin because it’s too many hours before dawn and too few after midnight, he’s born kicking and thrashing and tragic and all wrong.

The wrong body, the wrong eyes, birthed out of old money mixed with new blood, all sharp temper and so very, very small even for a newborn.

And in the middle of all that chaos, he doesn’t cry. He just stares, blood-red on black, as the shocked and disgusted murmurs, the decisions and shaking heads and signed papers that say not our problem, and he jams his fists out, shoving at any of the big, dark figures that get too close.

When everything is dark and he’s all alone, stuck in a plastic coffin and the darkest shadow of all comes to take him away, he still shoves, but he doesn’t cry. He doesn’t fuss.

He’s too preoccupied with the feeling of the wind against his face as they drop from a window, and by the next morning the hospital has more to worry about than a mutant baby whose parents were never coming back anyway and its accompanying birth certificate.

His existence is swept under the rug so quietly, so seamlessly, he might as well be a ghost.

Names and girl-boy-neither don’t matter on the street. They’re all too young for that anyway. It’s bigger-smaller and faster-slower that really make a difference, and for the really clever ones the difference between smart and stupid can do a whole lot.

He knows his name, the Antiquary has made sure he knows it, but it’s hard to say so he doesn’t use it. Names are for calling warnings anyway, and when it comes to that it’s better to choose one and two syllables and not three. His has three. It’s inconvenient.

He’s kind of small, but he’s pretty quick and he’s not stupid either, and he’s somehow good at making the adults feel bad and guilty even with his devil eyes, like they should help, so he does. They give him candies, or half-eaten pastries, sometimes little coins; he learns to eat fast in front of them (sometimes it makes them feel even worse, so they get him more) and to hide any money down the backs of his socks.

The bigger kids call him diable, the littler ones and the muties (all of them have the worst time, and he’s smart enough to know that favors get paid back or else it’s blood, so he lets them owe him just a little) call him Sweety ’cause sometimes he shares the sweeties with them and well, the ones that half-know how to write and show him what they think his name should be don’t know how to write well enough to know it’s wrong.

The big kids kick him, pull at his tangled up hair and shove him, try to take what he earns. He doesn’t cry, and it makes them hit him harder.

He goes to his secret friend who lives by the ghosts who always somehow seems to have a piece of bread for him or maybe some of a bottle of water, even though they’re both grimy and tired and don’t really talk, and he asks the old man to cut his hair.

He still doesn’t cry when they kick him the next time, hands grabbing at locks that aren’t there anymore, and when he kicks back he hits them where it hurts. They spit diable at him with more venom, but the other mutants laugh and laugh, delighted, and he thinks that the warm feeling in his gut is winning.

He likes it.

He finds it hard to adjust to the idea of a family. It’s a foreign thing, and while he doesn’t dislike Jean-Luc or Henri it’s almost easier to stand Henri’s girlfriend’s indifferent looks, because he knows how to deal with that.

He doesn’t know how to handle the way that his new father and brother look at him sometimes when they think he isn’t watching, still tense and nervous and always ready to leave more toothmarks in their forearms, kind of sad and contemplative, a little puzzled.

He’d made them bleed for the privilege of having him. He would again, he’s sure of that. He is and always has been sharp edges and angry fire.

He has all the talent they want, every ounce of the tenacity, but he’s not quite a child and doesn’t know how to be one, and while they’re childish themselves they’ve never tried to give back something that was lost like that before.

He likes the lessons, though he misbehaves during them (it’s the principle of the thing). He doesn’t care too much when they call him by the stuffy name he doesn’t like much, because they say he should try to be important, and nicknames aren’t good for that. He doesn’t understand, but he gets that there’s reasons behind it, so it’s fine. The skirts, he decides he doesn’t prefer - he doesn’t say it, of course. They’re new clothes, and he does like pink, even if there’s suddenly a lot of it. It’s bright and clean. It’s a color that doesn’t survive in the grime of the street.

“Athalie, time for supper,” they say, every day, and he really likes that, so he doesn’t dwell on the rest of it too much, because he gets to eat and he’s still very good at looking pitiable and all, so the cook slips him apple tarts as an extra treat more often than not.

He starts to realize that the he-she-neither line has become more defined, and that he’s not really sure which side he’s on, because it hasn’t mattered before, but he’s still too young to understand why it does now.

Jean-Luc shows him how to jump, twist as he falls and catch himself, re-adjust the angle of his body, and he’s never felt more alive than when he dances on wires high above the ground with no net to catch him or cushion to break his fall.

They give him wings, and he is utterly heedless of the sun. He flies too well to worry.

He starts to have a childhood, but it's a little bit skewed. That's okay, kind of, he doesn't really mind; it's just that the things that he thought were made up before hurt like his heart is full of molten steel, when they happen to him, and he isn’t sure if he likes it or not.

Like the bedtime stories.

He thought that was all just a fairy tale too, that they didn’t exist, but he guesses it isn’t a lie or a convenient plot device inside other stories when Henri hesitates at his door with an old book in his hand and asks him if he wants one. He looks surprised when he asks, like he hadn’t really meant to, and that more than anything else makes it a real question.

He’s eleven, and he thinks he’s probably too old for that already and Henri is too young to be reading them to him but he’s still curious, so he just squirms enough to the side that Henri has room to sit. He still isn’t good at talking, doesn’t like it that much, but he makes himself easy to understand and really as far as his new foster brother is concerned, that’s easier anyway.

It’s not a baby book, at least, he can see that right away. And he knows it must be precious to Henri, somehow, because he holds it in that way that people do when they’re afraid something will be taken from them and ruined - it’s the way that usually makes him want to do just that.

He wonders if maybe Jean-Luc (Father, Father, papa, he’s still getting used to that) used to read it to Henri, and he likes the idea.

“Premier chapitre,” Henri says, and parts the old, worn pages that are yellowing from the edges in; his younger brother thinks that the Antiquary would’ve hated to see a book in that condition, but he likes it. It means Henri cares, in the same clumsy sort of way he helps him tie his hair back sometimes. “Lorsque j’avais six ans j’ai vu, une fois, une magnifique image, dans un livre sur la Forêt Vierge…”

He doesn’t even make it through the first chapter before he’s asleep, but it doesn’t matter because after that, Henri stops at his door every night with the old book in his hands and a big, warm blanket, and he reads to him until he’s dreaming.

“Athalie, hold still,” his brother groans, and he hums in agreement though his nose scrunches up and he certainly doesn’t stop squirming. Skirts were bad, but Easter dresses were so much worse - Henri had been doing his best to bundle him into the weirdly poofy confection for the better part of an hour, and while he’d finally succeeded, now getting everything straightened and proper was proving to be a chore.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, and he means it, sort of. Just not when it comes to the dress. “Staying still itches. Don’ like it. Hurts.”

Henri pauses, but then sighs; the sudden emergence of actual mutant powers in the form of completely blowing out one of the west wing’s walls came with problems, and figuring things out without a guidebook just meant going with a child’s gut feelings sometimes.

He tips his head back, auburn spilling slow and unfamiliar over the chiffon covering his collarbone, and blinks at his big brother in the mirror.

“Don’ like Athalie either,” he says, matter-of-factly, and Henri pauses in his hopeless fight with shoving a barrette into unruly hair.

“Why?” he asks, careful, and is met with only a twisted-up face.

“Dunno.”

“Alright,” Henri says, and his cool fingers pinch at still-soft cheeks; he chuckles when he’s batted away petulantly. He doesn’t have to understand for it to matter. “Jus’ petite for now, then. We can find you somethin’ better.”

Henri has a nice laugh, and he doesn't use it enough. It only comes out when he's startled or when Mercy whispers into his ear, and then the corners of his eyes crinkle up and his head tips back just a little, and his teeth flash white against his skin. It's never false.

“Smile more,” he says suddenly, and Henri cocks a brow at him through their reflections, a perfect imitation of their father that they’d both overuse in their later years, but the smile stays even as he settles his younger sibling atop his shoulders.

“If y’say so, petite.”

He’s thirteen when it all boils over, when he starts to ache on the inside and when the start of his period is a terror for him more than it should be (and a rather traumatic nightmare for his father and brother, only to saved by Tante Mattie’s intervention) and the way his chest hurts keeps him up at night.

He has finally come to the understanding that he isn’t who he wants to be, and he doesn’t know what to do about it or if he’s broken beyond repair.

He is so terribly, horribly afraid that if he says anything, if he takes away being the daughter, the sister that they have welcomed, that he won’t be a part of it anymore.

And no matter what, he doesn’t want to lose them. He’s afraid to spoil the beautiful little memories that he tucks away inside his heart and treasures so greedily.

He wants his bedtime stories, and Jean-Luc ruffling his hair in the most irritating way, and another pair of matching earrings with Henri, and more family heists. He wants his father to squabble with his brother over the last of the cookies he’d baked them and more bets placed on the next time he’d accidentally explode a teacup, and the jibes they toss about him being friends with Bella.

“Your moustache is ugly,” he tells his brother, as he restrings Henri’s cello. He’s not sure why Henri is so bad at it - he’s big, and strong - but maybe it’s just because his too-thin fingers are more clever than Henri’s, and besides, he doesn’t mind really.

Henri makes a sound like a wounded duck, and inhales to begin his usual righteous tirade in defense of his disgustingly well-maintained lip caterpillar, and suddenly it’s all too much.

There’s just too much to lose, and that’s not something he knows how to handle.

He starts to cry for the first time that he can remember, and it’s enough to make Henri stop and gently take his cello, to gather up his sibling’s skinny frame and hold on because at the end of it they’re both children and sometimes clumsy comfort is the only thing that works anyway.

“I don’t understand,” he sobs, and he’s clawing at Henri’s back hard enough to leave welts, like he’s trying to dig his way under his skin so that he can stay there and not be thrown aside. “I hate it, I hate - my name and my body and nothing is right, Henri, it makes me sick it doesn’t fit - ”

Neither of them know what to do, and Henri doesn’t understand a quarter of what he’s sobbing, but that night Henri holds his hand and doesn’t let go until they’ve gotten Jean-Luc and driven all the way to Mattie’s, big warm thumb stroking over bony knuckles without ceasing, a silent promise.

I love you, we love you, we’ll fix it somehow.

One night can’t fix anything, but it’s enough to settle on a new name that’s easy and isn’t three syllables, and to make calls to people that know how to at least begin to handle what Jean-Luc and Henri don’t know how to.

It’s not much, but when Remy leaves asleep in Jean-Luc’s arms with a belly full of Mattie’s chocolat and tear-swollen cheeks, Henri still holds his hand even though he’s not awake to appreciate it. It’s a start.

It takes less than a week for the dresses and the skirts to disappear completely from his closet, all gone while he sleeps. They’re better at doing than saying, but that’s okay. Remy understands that better anyway.

He isn’t broken, just a little different, and his family is good.

He still keeps some of the pink, though. He always did sort of like it.

Sometimes Henri still calls him petite, but he doesn’t mind.

His brother is the only one to ask if he wants the life he is born to and forged for.

Jean-Luc would never do such a thing; there is too much at stake for sentimentality in some matters, though he does his very best elsewhere. Remy does not resent him for it. He is trying. It counts.

Henri is the one who settles beside him in the comfortable silence, after a meal at their tante’s, everyone having moved away, drifting along the courses of their whims and needs. Their father, upstairs, snores faintly audible through the thin slats of the ceiling; Mattie, singing under her breath (or so she thinks) at the kitchen sink, rinsing the dishes after shooing them away.

She likes to tell them they’d only get in the way, but her boys know that she only wants to take care of them in the little ways that she truly can. She can’t ease their burden, not really, but she can grant them more rest.

“Thieves don’t live happy lives,” Henri says; his voice breaks the silence apart, a thousand tiny fractures that don’t shatter and fall. Not yet, not yet. He’s always been bold, like this, straightforward in a way that the others aren’t.

Remy does not open his eyes, but he makes a soft sound, acknowledgment. He is listening. He is considering.

(It is nothing he did not already know.)

“You love her,” his brother says, and something in his voice catches, a little piece of the grief he harbors. It’s true - Remy loves Bella Donna with everything he is. He would follow her anywhere, do anything, so long as she still loved him too. And she does.

“I do,” he says, and it’s so simple. He’s still only a child. He loves her, and he thinks that can be enough.

“Then you should go somewhere else, together. The Guilds...they’ll ruin you,” Henri whispers.

It’s a silly thought and they both know it. There is nowhere that Remy and Bella Donna could ever go where they would not be found. But he understands what Henri means.

It will spoil somehow. Everything we touch does.

“We’ll change things. We’re smarter than they think. Stronger, too.”

A beat, then, before Henri asks, “Why should you have to fight our war?”

Remy doesn’t answer that one, but he thinks Henri knows anyway.

I don’t have to. I want to, because then I am someone that matters.

“Henri?”

He’s too old, now, eighteen and about to be married, and Henri is still not old enough to do this, married already but without children of his own, and yet he stands there by the door looking at his baby brother with the right book in his hands.

“Oui?” he asks, as if he hadn’t known and come there all on his own already, and Remy curls up his too-long legs underneath him to give Henri the room he needs to sit, all the big, lumbering, comforting height of him, but he’s better at talking now.

“Le Petit Prince, s’il vous plaît.”

Remy thinks maybe Mercy hates him, for Henri’s death. He hates himself, because it had been for his sake, so much had always been for his sake and he’s still not sure how to tell everyone that sometimes, he wants them to let him fall.

(He deserves to die for the things he’s done. They don’t.)

But she doesn’t. She cries with him instead, with her arms around him, and Remy thinks that he’s done his family a disservice truly this time, for Henri to have placed his brother’s love over his own.

It hurts worse when he remembers that they’d been hopeful about maybe trying for a baby, since things had started to settle after Remy’s exile; Henri’s letters had said so, that they’d picked out names that were all boy-girl-neither because Henri had been worried about one that maybe their child would hate, so he’d asked Remy which ones he thought were nice just in case they would’ve had a baby that was different in the way he’d been. Not that it mattered much; names were gifts, not meant to be kept if they didn’t suit, but still he hadn’t wanted to use something presumptuous from the start.

He’d cried over that letter too, enough that the words were blurred in some spots, the paper crumpled where his fingers had clutched too tightly.

Remy doesn't have a middle name, not until he's twenty-something and he's already been through far too much. He doesn't bother, because really, people don't use them anyway. He hasn’t seen the point. He has no one to honor.

Not until Henri dies and he sits down on his dead brother's bed with his dead brother’s wife and asked her the what-if that hurt the most.

He names himself, then, for his father and his brother twice over, picks the name that would’ve belonged to his nephew if things had gone differently.

Etienne, he murmurs, rolls it around in his mouth. It fits.

Mercy’s pretty blue eyes are all ringed with red, but she’s as strong as ever while they pack up Henri’s things and divide them between themselves. It’s neat, efficient - of course he’d left a will, just in case, always so neat and prepared for everything - and when Remy whispers his apologies again as he kisses her cheeks goodbye, she shakes her head at him.

He waits for words, but they don’t come. She simply watches him, chin up, all steel and fierce pride, because she knows that he knows what she means. He nods.

They have all been ready to die for each other for a very long time, and it won’t change.

There is no need to apologize for his brother’s love, given freely.

He is still sorry anyway.

Remy looks at her, all sharp teeth and fierce eyes and wild hair with split ends, and he wonders first whether he can swindle her into a haircut and second why things always seemed to come full circle.

He thinks third about staying so strong that it breaks you inside, and he thinks fourth about the people who had sealed up a few of the cracks that came with fighting too hard and never being allowed to be a child until it was nearly too late.

He looks at Laura again, and he decides.

He calls her petite because that’s just what you do for little girls who don’t know themselves yet, and it’s what you do even after they figure it out because at the end of it they’re still precious. He’s annoying, he knows; he’s never been as good at it as Henri, he’s more like their father, obnoxious smiles and too-grand gestures but he hopes it helps. He thinks she understands that he means well.

Don’t let them break you, he begs inside of his head - she’s so very strong, but that just means she’s lonely, and he knows that even if he doesn’t say it.

The least he can do is smile when he sees her, and slip cookies into her pockets without her knowing, tell her that her new clothes suit her and that he’s glad to see her because he truly is.

The most he can do is be there, so he is.

He just wants her to understand that she has the right to claw her satisfaction out of the reluctant gut of their cruel world. That she matters. That at least somewhere, she will never have to question.

She has the right. Everyone does. Not enough people say it.

“Sorry. I know s’been a while,” Remy says, and scarred fingers drift over cold marble as he sits with his side to the back of his brother’s headstone. It’s been too long, really, if he’s honest; but things haven’t been in his control for a while, and he thinks Henri would understand.

He’d never been good at staying out of trouble, anyway.

He feels terribly old, now, joints throbbing in the cold and bones aching sharp from too many times broken apart, but he isn’t. Not at all. Now he is only just as old as his brother, and soon he’d move on again, caught up and passing over.

It wasn’t right. Henri had been meant to live the longest, not the shortest.

Henri had been the one that was supposed to be happy.

He reaches inside his jacket, pulling out a very, very old book, nearly falling apart at the spine and with cover worn so threadbare that the simple blue binding is nearly white in spots. He’ll come again with Mercy in the morning - it’s Henri’s birthday, after all - but their time had always been in the evening, soft, full of books and blankets and waking up with crooked necks from sleeping sitting up.

Remy drapes the blanket he’d carried over his arm around his shoulders and turns the first few pages, careful, breath visible as he exhales into the freezing winter air. His legs curl under him, and he thinks distantly that Henri would’ve just drawn them into his lap after a chapter or two. They had been easy together, like that, all of them, leaning in and on one another however they needed and supported without question.

“Premier chapitre.”

#♠️ DRABBLES.#♠️ HEADCANONS.#warning for pre-transitioning deadnaming ig #anyway i think about henri a lot and i'm always so mcfucking upset #LONG POST.#DO NOT REBLOG.

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