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angeldreamsoffanfic · 1 year

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Elizabeth Marie Munson née Hart was buried on the 2nd Sunday of May back in 1977, back when Eddie had only been eleven. It had been hard, not that death was ever an… easy thing mind you.

She’d been buried in Hawkins, as stated in the will that’d she’d put together (no matter if it had been written on hospital napkins or not it was followed just the same). Eddie’s custody had been a bit more complicated, as Al Munson had put up a bit of a fight in regards to Elizabeth’s wishes. She was adamant that Eddie go to Wayne, while Al didn’t care about what happened to him… as long as it went against what Elizabeth had wanted.

But no matter, because Eddie knew that Elizabeth loved him as much (if not more somehow) than Wayne did. And Eddie loved Wayne, honestly and wholeheartedly he did. But there was something missing from his life, and that was his mama.

Which, Eddie knows distantly, is what makes the day today as difficult to swallow as it does.

Because not only is it the day of his mama’s death but it’s also Mother’s Day.

And he can’t exactly fault anyone in his life for not being able to understand how he feels today. He really can’t bring himself to, even as he sits right in front of his mama’s gravestone- knees to his chest like he’s a little kid again. The rest of his odd found family has their parents, and so they just… they don’t fully understand what Eddie’s going through.

Not really anyway.

He knows they mean well, really he does. But no matter, because it’s hard and he already has a lot on his mind as it stands.

Eddie pauses and draws in a shaking breath, eyes wet and glossy with yet to shed tears, as he keeps his chin on his knees even as he hears a car door slam shut. It’s followed by several other ones, and Eddie doesn’t look behind him as he hears slowly measured footsteps behind him. He doesn’t turn, but he does speak.

“You don’t have to be here, Harrington.”

“Not Harrington, son.” It’s Hopper’s voice that makes Eddie finally turn, and he’s greeted to the sight of the older man- holding a bouquet of pink tulips wrapped in cellophane. Hopper’s in one of his nice shirts, one of the ones that Eddie knows that Joyce forced him in.

“What are you doing here?” Eddie manages to croak out, and the corner of Hopper’s lip twitches slightly- before he gestures with his head back to the parking lot.

“If you think you’re alone today, kiddo, you really got another thing coming.”

Eddie turns his head slightly to look past Hopper, and he can’t help the choked gasp that manages to make its way out of his throat. The entire group is there, all the way from The Party down to even the Corroded Coffin boys. Everyone in their crisp Sunday best (or as close to it anyway) with bright bouquets of pink tulips held between their hands.

Eddie turns again to look at Hopper, and can’t get out any words as he watches as Hopper is joined by Steve Harrington. Eddie has never quite been able to figure out Steve (no matter how much he tries), but he never…

“Hey ma’am,” Steve isn’t even looking at Eddie though, instead focused quite intently on the area behind Eddie… and oh.

Oh.

“I’ve had the pleasure of being one of your son’s friends this past year,” Steve carefully speaks as he moves closer until he’s next to Eddie, before he sits down- not minding getting dirt and grass on his pants. “And we all missed this last year but we figured… well we couldn’t let him come down here and mourn you alone.”

“Stevie-” Eddie tries, and Steve says nothing as he reaches a blind hand out- before he entwines his fingers with Eddie’s. Eddie sniffles again, even as Steve presses the tulips as close to the grave as he can.

“Your son matters to so many people, Ms. Hart, I mean that genuinely and honestly.” Steve keeps going, as if Eddie had said nothing. Eddie tries to keep the tears at bay, holding onto Steve’s hand as if it’s a lifeline. “And I didn’t know how to really show that… but I figured this might help a bit.”

Eddie is confused for just a split second, before he hears Jim Hopper clear his throat- before he then speaks.

“Ma’am, I know that your son has made a safety net for my daughter in the times where I couldn’t. I know that she loves him, truly, and for that I’m a bit more than grateful towards you.” Hopper then clears his throat, before he carefully steps around them- and sets his bouquet of tulips right next to the ones that Steve had put down.

Hopper curls a hand around Steve’s shoulder and bends to whisper something into his ear, and Eddie focuses on blinking back his tears as the man turns and walks away.

It’s silent for a minute, before it continues again.

“Hi Ms. Hart, Eddie’s told me a load about you and he was my first friend here in Hawkins and I just want to let you know we… we haven’t forgot about you.” Gareth’s voice is next, and Eddie lets out another sniffle as he sets a bouquet down. He doesn’t leave though, and instead sits right next to Eddie- taking the hand that Steve isn’t holding.

“Hi ma’am, Eddie hasn’t told me much about you… but I think you’d like the man he turned out to be, and from one mom to another? I’m keeping an eye on him for you.” Joyce. Another bouquet.

“He’s like really cool and taught us so much about this game we play, Dungeons and Dragons and I’m not sure if you knew what that was but it’s like this role playing-” Dustin. Another bouquet.

“He’s like my brother-” Jeff. Another bouquet.

“He’s like my son-” Wayne. Another bouquet. And a firm hand on a shoulder that never leaves.

“You’re someone he talks about whenever I need him to and that means a lot-” Max. Another set of flowers. A kiss against the top of Eddie’s head.

“He’s a good kid and you had to have been like an amazing mom for him to turn out the way he did because let me tell you-” Robin. Another bouquet.

“My dad says I’m allowed to choose my family and I chose Eddie, and from what he’s told me… you were a good mama.” Eleven sniffles softly as she presses her flowers into the ever-growing pile at the base of the gravestone. Eddie reaches out a touches the back of her leg- and it’s enough for the girl to launch herself into Eddie’s arms.

They stay like that. No one questions it.

“From his stories you sound really interesting and I think my mom and-” Mike. Another bouquet.

“Hello ma’am-” Lucas. Another bouquet.

“He’s kind of a nerd but-” Erica. Another bouquet.

“He’s a really good friend, Ms. Hart. Like there’s not a lot of them out in the world, and Eddie’s a good one.” Freak. Another bouquet.

“You and Wayne raised him right and I hope that wherever you are-” Nancy. Another bouquet.

“From what he’s-” Jonathan. Another bouquet.

“Ms. Dudette he’s so-” Argyle. Another bouquet.

“He’s one of my brothers. And that’s all there is to it, and I’m so sad we couldn’t meet and I couldn’t tell you this in person-” Will. Another bouquet.

In the end, Elizabeth Marie Munson née Hart has nineteen bouquets of pink tulips surrounding her grave. In the end, she and her son are completely and wholly surrounded by people that may not have known her— but they love her just the same.

Eddie Munson smiles, and clears his throat as he begins to speak, pulling the attention of his family to him.

“So the reasons why mama liked pink tulips is-”

The sun slowly begins to set as the ragtag group settles in to listen to Eddie’s story, all scrunched in as close as they can.

And for once in his life?

Eddie Munson hates the 2nd Sunday of May just a little bit less.

sacrifice to the readmore gods. mother’s day is really hard for me sometimes, so enjoy this word vomit of a ficlet i produced in about an hour. <3

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jackoshadows · 5 months

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“It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.” - Pride and Prejudice "Only half a hundred times," Dany teased. "You gave up too easily, my lord. For I must marry, all agree." "A khaleesi must have a khal," said Irri, as she filled the queen's cup once again. "This is known." - Daenerys, ADWD.

I have been listening to Austen on my way to work everyday. Finished P&P and have taken up Mansfield Park. It's, IMO, singularly boring and not as entertaining as the rest of Austen's work. It's incredibly slow, there's pages and pages of events that does not push the plot forward - like the play the Bertrams and Crawfords put on - and Fanny is the least interesting of Austen's female leads.

There have been discussions on how, in terms of Austen heroines, Arya Stark comes closest to Elizabeth Bennet with regards to her questioning of the patriarchal ideals of femininity, her wit and vivacity, as detailed here and here.

However, I did notice some similarities between the characters/dynamics of Mansfield Park, the Starks of ASoIaF and one my asoiaf ships Jonrya!

First, there is 10 year old Fanny feeling the outcast and lonely at Mansfield Park until Edmund steps in and befriends her.

Afraid of everybody, ashamed of herself, and longing for the home she had left, she knew not how to look up, and could scarcely speak to be heard, or without crying. Her feelings were very acute, and too little understood to be properly attended to. Nobody meant to be unkind, but nobody put themselves out of their way to secure her comfort. - Fanny, MP

Reminds me of Arya in King's Landing feeling lonely and missing her home, brothers and especially Jon Snow.

That was when Arya missed her brothers most. She wanted to tease Bran and play with baby Rickon and have Robb smile at her. She wanted Jon to muss up her hair and call her “little sister” and finish her sentences with her. But all of them were gone. She had no one left but Sansa, and Sansa wouldn’t even talk to her unless Father made her. - Arya, AgoT

She went back to the window, Needle in hand, and looked down into the courtyard below. If only she could climb like Bran, she thought; she would go out the window and down the tower, run away from this horrible place, away from Sansa and Septa Mordane and Prince Joffrey, from all of them. Steal some food from the kitchens, take Needle and her good boots and a warm cloak. She could find Nymeria in the wild woods below the Trident, and together they’d return to Winterfell, or run to Jon on the Wall. She found herself wishing that Jon was here with her now. Then maybe she wouldn’t feel so alone. - Arya, AGoT

We have Fanny sad and feeling like no one really understands or cares for her and then being comforted by Edmund.

A week had passed in this way, and no suspicion of it conveyed by her quiet passive manner, when she was found one morning by her cousin Edmund, the youngest of the sons, sitting crying on the attic stairs. “My dear little cousin,” said he, with all the gentleness of an excellent nature, “what can be the matter?” And sitting down by her, he was at great pains to overcome her shame in being so surprised, and persuade her to speak openly.

This mirrors Arya's relationship with Jon, where we know he is whom she goes to for solace and companionship - not her father, mother or other siblings. It's Jon Snow. Like getting bullied over her appearance leading to her thinking she was a bastard and getting comforted by Jon Snow.

"A shade more fun than needlework," Arya gave back at him. Jon grinned, reached over, and messed up her hair. Arya flushed. They had always been close. Jon had their father's face, as she did. They were the only ones. Robb and Sansa and Bran and even little Rickon all took after the Tullys, with easy smiles and fire in their hair. When Arya had been little, she had been afraid that meant that she was a bastard too. It had been Jon she had gone to in her fear, and Jon who had reassured her. - Arya, AGoT

Edmund and Fanny becoming very close and Edmund helping Fanny get pen and paper to write home and selling his own horse to get a new horse for Fanny so that she can go riding - which she loves to do!

For a long while no answer could be obtained beyond a “no, no—not at all—no, thank you”; but he still persevered; and no sooner had he begun to revert to her own home, than her increased sobs explained to him where the grievance lay. He tried to console her. “If that be all your difficulty, I will furnish you with paper and every other material, and you may write your letter whenever you choose. Would it make you happy to write to William?” - MP

Though Edmund was much more displeased with his aunt than with his mother, as evincing least regard for her niece, he could not help paying more attention to what she said; and at length determined on a method of proceeding which would obviate the risk of his father’s thinking he had done too much, and at the same time procure for Fanny the immediate means of exercise, which he could not bear she should be without. He had three horses of his own, but not one that would carry a woman. Two of them were hunters; the third, a useful road-horse: this third he resolved to exchange for one that his cousin might ride; he knew where such a one was to be met with; and having once made up his mind, the whole business was soon completed. The new mare proved a treasure; with a very little trouble she became exactly calculated for the purpose, and Fanny was then put in almost full possession of her. - MP

Jon secretly gets a sword, light and thin, made especially to fit Arya's hands and gifts it to her because she wants to learn how to use a sword.

“I have something for you to take with you, and it has to be packed very carefully.” Her face lit up. “A present?” “You could call it that. Close the door.” Wary but excited, Arya checked the hall. "Nymeria, here. Guard." She left the wolf out there to warn of intruders and closed the door. By then Jon had pulled off the rags he'd wrapped it in. He held it out to her. Arya's eyes went wide. Dark eyes, like his. "A sword," she said in a small, hushed breath. "I can be fast," Arya said. "You'll have to work at it every day." He put the sword in her hands, showed her how to hold it, and stepped back. "How does it feel? Do you like the balance?" "I think so," Arya said. Arya ran to him for a last hug. "Put down the sword first," Jon warned her, laughing. She set it aside almost shyly and showered him with kisses. - Jon, AGoT

Then there are the other supporting characters.

There's Tom Bertram who's like Robb, the eldest son and heir who treats Fanny like a little sister.

Edmund was uniformly kind himself; and she had nothing worse to endure on the part of Tom than that sort of merriment which a young man of seventeen will always think fair with a child of ten. He was just entering into life, full of spirits, and with all the liberal dispositions of an eldest son, who feels born only for expense and enjoyment. His kindness to his little cousin was consistent with his situation and rights: he made her some very pretty presents, and laughed at her. - MP

There's a Mrs. Norris who is very similarly to Septa Mordane in her treatment of Fanny Vs the Bertram daughters, always putting down Fanny to uplift the other girls - similar to how the Septa drags Arya down to uplift Sansa. This has a detrimental effect on the Bertram girls just like it does for Sansa - encouraging them to be mean to Fanny in the same way Sansa/Jeyne mock Arya.

The Bertram sisters mock Fanny for not being good at music or drawing and is told by their aunt Norris that this indeed makes Fanny stupid.

“Yes, I know there is, till I am seventeen. But I must tell you another thing of Fanny, so odd and so stupid. Do you know, she says she does not want to learn either music or drawing.” “To be sure, my dear, that is very stupid indeed, and shows a great want of genius and emulation. But, all things considered, I do not know whether it is not as well that it should be so, for, though you know (owing to me) your papa and mama are so good as to bring her up with you, it is not at all necessary that she should be as accomplished as you are;—on the contrary, it is much more desirable that there should be a difference.”

And as Austen succinctly and rightly puts it, this sort of encouragement and mentorship from their aunt Norris leads to a lack of humility and generosity in the sisters.

Such were the counsels by which Mrs. Norris assisted to form her nieces’ minds; and it is not very wonderful that, with all their promising talents and early information, they should be entirely deficient in the less common acquirements of self-knowledge, generosity and humility. - MP

We see this in AGoT Sansa - the lack of self-awareness, of humility and generosity in the way she treats Arya, Jon, the small folk, Mycah and even Jeyne Poole. Septa Mordane's thoughts and opinions have had a negative effect on ALL her pupils. It's encouraged Arya's low self-esteem and Sansa's vanity and classism.

And while Septa Mordane, Sansa and Catelyn always put Sansa on a higher pedestal than Arya in terms of perfection, intelligence and beauty, it's Jon Snow who considers Arya to be clever and pretty.

"What could you want to see?" Sansa said, annoyed. She had been thrilled by the invitation, and her stupid sister was going to ruin everything, just as she'd feared. "It's all just fields and farms and holdfasts." "Hodor!" Sansa yelled. "You ought to marry Hodor, you're just like him, stupid and hairy and ugly!" She wrenched away from her sister's hand, stormed into her bedchamber, and barred the door behind her. - Sansa, AGoT

But what if Arya was not there to be saved? What if Lady Melisandre's flames had told it true? Could his sister truly have escaped such captors? How would she do that? Arya was always quick and clever, but in the end she's just a little girl, and Roose Bolton is not the sort who would be careless with a prize of such great worth. - Jon, ADwD

"Good." She had never cared if she was pretty, even when she was stupid Arya Stark. Only her father had ever called her that. Him, and Jon Snow, sometimes. Her mother used to say she could be pretty if she would just wash and brush her hair and take more care with her dress, the way her sister did. To her sister and sister's friends and all the rest, she had just been Arya Horseface. - Arya, ADwD

And despite aunt Norris and the Bertram girls finding Fanny to be deficient and stupid, Edmund thinks of her as clever and capable.

“To be sure, my dear, that is very stupid indeed, and shows a great want of genius and emulation. - Aunt Norris, MP

Kept back as she was by everybody else, his single support could not bring her forward; but his attentions were otherwise of the highest importance in assisting the improvement of her mind, and extending its pleasures. He knew her to be clever, to have a quick apprehension as well as good sense, and a fondness for reading, which, properly directed, must be an education in itself. - Edmund, MP

Fanny has a lot of love for Edmund, a mixture of gratitude and affection.

In return for such services she loved him better than anybody in the world except William: her heart was divided between the two. She regarded her cousin as an example of everything good and great, as possessing worth which no one but herself could ever appreciate, and as entitled to such gratitude from her as no feelings could be strong enough to pay. Her sentiments towards him were compounded of all that was respectful, grateful, confiding, and tender. - MP

Edmund and Fanny consider themselves brother and sister, love each other that way and there is a strong emotion there between them.

"By eight in the morning Edmund was in the house. The girls heard his entrance from above, and Fanny went down. The idea of immediately seeing him, with the knowledge of what he must be suffering, brought back all her own first feelings. He so near her, and in misery. She was ready to sink as she entered the parlour. He was alone, and met her instantly; and she found herself pressed to his heart with only these words, just articulate, 'My Fanny, my only sister; my only comfort now!' She could say nothing; nor for some minutes could he say more." - MP

“What do you know of my heart, priestess? What do you know of my sister? Bring her home, Mance., and now I am about to save four thousand of your free folk. You owe me this one little girl. - Jon, ADwD

Despite growing up together, Edmund and Fanny do part as Edmund goes to college and Fanny stays at home. They write to each other and keep in touch, which Jon and Arya cannot do. And while going through their harrowing journeys (Arya) and climbing the ladder to Lord Commander (Jon) they miss each other dearly and want to see each other again.

There are of course differences. I find Jon's love and admiration/respect for Arya to be greater than Edmund's for Fanny. Jon thinks Arya is perfect as is while Edmund sees himself as helping Fanny grow as a person. All the girls Jon admires or falls in love with mirror Arya in terms of personality, looks and physicality (Ygritte, Alys, Val). Jon straight up compares Ygritte and Alys to Arya. In contrast Edmund falls for Mary Crawford who is the opposite of Fanny and where Fanny and Mary are compared with each other in the book. Jon is searching for an Arya in every girl he meets, right from ACoK, while Edmund only acknowledges that Fanny is the person for him at the very end. And then there's the difference in Arya and Fanny, where Arya has more in common with an Elizabeth Bennet than with Fanny herself. And Jon is no Edmund.

So yeah. I remember reading somewhere that GRRM has read Jane Austen. So these similarities are fun even if they were not intended or are wholly unrelated.

#Arya Stark #Jon Snow #Jonrya #Austen

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horeformilfs · 5 months

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Grieving

Elizabeth Olsen x Fem!Reader

TW: Loss, Grieving Process, Eating Disorder Behaviors, Fainting, Exhaustion, SH

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You and Lizzie had been dating for a while when you got the news that changed your world. You had been working through a script when you got a call from an unknown number, showing Lizzie she shrugged not knowing whose phone number it was. Picking up the phone and putting it on speaker phone.

"Hello, is this Y/N Y/L/N?"

"Yes this is, can I ask who's calling?"

"My name is Ryan Jackson and I am calling from the New York City Police Department. "I'm calling in regards to your brother Michael."

"Is he alright?"

"I'm sorry to inform you, he passed away about an hour ago."

Your heart shattered and time stopped after you heard those words. He died, your older brother, your protector, your best friend, died. Your body becomes numb as you drop to the floor, letting out an agonizing scream.

Lizzie who was watching the conversation rushed towards you, holding you in her arms as you cried. Your heart is beating rapidly and breathing unsteady. Sobs wracked through your body as Lizzie held you, eyes watering as she saw you break down. "Shh darling, it's all going to be okay," she said, trying to calm you down. "

N-No you don't understand, he was everything to me, he protected me when I was younger, we did so many things together, and now he's dead," you say, voice unsteady from your tears. "I know love, but you're going to get through this, you are so strong, and now you need to be strong for him as well".

You continued to sit in Lizzie's lap while she rubbed your back, whispering assurances in your ear. You felt numb, like the world around you wasn't real. You couldn't process what was going on, there was nothing that you could do to help yourself.

You learned that the funeral was going to be in a week, knowing that your father was going to have a hard time planning this funeral. It had only been six months since your mother died, and he hadn't even had time to grieve over her death, before your brother, his son, was taken from him too.

He confided in you later that day after you heard the news. You had never really been close with your parents. As soon as you turned 17 you moved out, finished high school a year early, and applied to NYU.

You got in and packed up your things, with the help of your brother, who was the only person from your family that you talked to. It was you two against the world. You studied acting and ended up getting the role of Gamora, and met Lizzie on set during the filming of Avengers Infinity War.

Your father had called you to talk about the funeral arrangements, he wanted you to be responsible for planning the funeral for your brother. You couldn't say no to him, but Lizzie was not thrilled that your father put this huge weight on your shoulders. She knew you, she knew that you would become hyper-focused on the funeral and not let yourself process the trauma you just went through.

"Darling, are you sure that you want to take this on? I know that you want to be there for your father, but I also want you to be able to grieve," she said as you worked on your computer, reserving the burial location. "Yeah Liz I'm fine, I promise," you said, assuring her that you were okay.

She looked at you skeptically knowing when you were lying but choosing to push it. You continued to work on the funeral reservations, making sure you had a place for the service, a coffin picked out, and wrote the speech that you would deliver. During the week, you had become so consumed with the planning you probably slept a total of five hours combined, and skipped almost all of your meals, all while trying to reassure Lizzie that you were okay.

She didn't believe you, each night you would go to bed together but once she thought you were asleep she would get up and go to work on the funeral plans. She could see you slowly falling apart in front of her, and she felt helpless. The bags under your eyes became darker, your skin pale, and your ribs protruded.

The day of the funeral approached and you and Lizzie were in your room getting dressed. You were wearing a knee-length black dress, black stockings, black heels, and a beige trench coat over it.

Lizzie was wearing a black dress with a cardigan over it, black stockings, black leather boots, and a black coat as well. You both made your way to the car, Lizzie insisted on driving, and you accepted. The ride to the funeral home was quiet, Lizzie's hand intertwined with yours.

Once at the funeral home you go into the room where the service will be held, giving yourself time to have one last look at your brother. You found out how he died, driving drunk and hitting a street lamp.

Lizzie let you have time with your brother, she knew how much you loved him and how close you were with him. She was sad that she never got to meet him. You guys were planning on meeting him for dinner in a few weeks.

"I know he's so proud of you darling," she says, joining you in the service room. Tears start to well up in your eyes, but you didn't want them to fall. You tried your best to conceal the fact that you were close to crying, but your girlfriend knew you better than that. "Love if you need to cry, that's okay, you are going through a traumatic and upsetting experience, it's healthy to feel these emotions," she said rubbing your back.

"I'm fine, we should go out to the main lobby. There are probably people here already," you say trying your best to give Lizzie a convincing smile.

The funeral comes and goes, and your father never actually showed up, which made you want to cry. You had done everything he asked, you had done something that you had never thought you would have to do.

Lizzie was extremely furious with your father, putting you through hell when she knew that going through the grieving would be hard even without planning the funeral, but because he had you plan it, it took away from the time you could have to start the grieving process.

You and Lizzie make it to the burial site, just the two of you and the casket carrying your brother's body. You had some time to say your final goodbyes. As they started lowering your brother's casket into the ground, all of the feelings that you buried deep inside you rose to the surface, causing you to collapse into Lizzie's arms.

When you came to you were in your shared bed, Lizzie holding you in her arms, gently stroking your hair. "What happened," you ask quietly. "You collapsed from exhaustion, you pushed yourself too hard.I know that it was important for you to do this, but you weren't taking care of yourself, and it finally caught up with you," Lizzie responds, worry in her voice.

"Darling, you can't just push these feelings down, grieving is a normal response to a loss, no matter how close they are to you. You lost your brother, someone who you relied on, and now he's gone. And you need to be able to grieve," she says as she pulls you to her chest. "I know, I'm just scared," you respond. "I know love, but it will be good for you, and I'll be here the whole time".

Denial

The following weeks were hard for you to say the least. You tried your best to be present in your daily life, but Lizzie could tell that you were having an incredibly hard time.

You had become numb, you didn't want to believe that he was gone, it was like he was here one day and then gone the next. You tried your best to be present in your relationship but didn't feel like you were being a good girlfriend to Lizzie.

Thoughts spiraled as the days went on, "He's not gone, he's going to call, right?" you ask Lizzie as you sit on the couch. She could tell that you knew that it wasn't true but you didn't want to believe that he was gone. He was everything to you.

Anger

The anger came next, you were mad, mad at the world, mad at the fact that he was dead. "If he hadn't been drinking, this wouldn't have happened," you say as you pace around your room, looking at a photo of you and your brother. Lizzie was downstairs working on her computer.

Your anger was building up, and it scared you. Your breathing grew faster as your pacing sped up, you didn't know what to do, you felt like you were spinning out of control. The built-up anger finally became too much, throwing the photo against the wall, shattering the glass frame, you fell to the floor letting out a blood-curdling scream.

When Lizzie heard the scream, she ran upstairs and straight to your shared room. Seeing you on the floor shattered her heart, she never wanted this for you. She ran straight to you and wrapped you in a tight hug, once you felt arms around you. Startled, you started thrashing around, fighting the person behind you.

"Shh darling, it's just me," Lizzie says, trying to calm you down. "No, let me go," you say, trying to release her grip. "Love, I need you to calm down, I know you're angry, and I know that it hurts, but I need you to calm down". Your breathing starts to even out as you start to cry. "Why did this have to happen to me?" you ask, tears falling down your face. "I don't know love, the world works in mysterious ways sometimes," Lizzie says as she picks you up, bringing you to the bed. "Promise me you won't leave me," you say, clinging to her as she places your head on her chest. "I promise my love".

Bargaining

Three months had passed since your brother's death, you had felt angry about him leaving, but knew that it wasn't his fault. Lizzie was working with you to try to help you work through your anger due to his death. You felt like your emotions were too intense and you needed to be able to feel like you were in control again.

"What if I had gone with him, this wouldn't have happened if I had just gone with him," you say to yourself. You hadn't seen Lizzie in the doorway but she had heard you. "Y/N you can keep blaming yourself, it wasn't anything you could have done," she says as she finishes making lunch for the two of you.

Depression

The next three weeks felt slow, you spent most of your time in your room, not eating, talking, or taking care of yourself. Lizzie started going back to work, filming a new TV show since filming for Avengers was on hold. She would usually get home around 9 p.m. and you would be asleep already. You started up old habits, not knowing how to cope. You always wore baggy clothes and long sleeves.

The restricting came first, you would wait till Lizzie left for work to "eat" and if she insisted on having breakfast with you, you would skip the rest of the means for the day. You started cutting again after being clean for five years, you knew that if your brother knew he would have been upset with you, but he wasn't here with you anymore. You knew that Lizzie would find out at some point, but now you were keeping as best a secret as you could.

Lizzie knew that something was up once you started dropping weight quickly, she wasn't sure how to address it with you, knowing that you have been having a rough time with the loss of your brother but knew that this was dangerous and couldn't afford to lose you.

You were so special to her, you were everything to her and she wanted to protect you at all costs, even if you were upset with her about it. She found out that you were harming yourself when she found a bloody razor blade sitting on the ledge in the bathroom. She could tell something was wrong when you started wearing sweatshirts and sweatpants every day.

She knew that she would have the conversation today, deciding to leave the set early, to get home to you as soon as possible. When she got home she entered the house dropping her stuff on the kitchen counter before walking up the stairs to your bedroom.

"Y/N darling, where are you?" she asks looking in your bedroom, seeing that you were not there, she moved to the ensuite bathroom. Knocking on the door waiting on a response, getting none. Seeing that the light was on, she got a sinking feeling in her stomach.

"Y/N darling are you okay, the light is on, I know that you're in there," she said. With no response, she tried the door to no avail because it was locked. "Darling, I need you to open the door, or I'll kick it down," she said. With still no response she backed up and kicked the door in, finding you on the floor of the bathroom barely conscious. "Y/N can you hear me?" she asked, panic rising in her voice. "Lizzie, I'm sorry". "It's alright darling, I just need to know what happened," she said trying to comfort you. "No, you'll be mad". Lizzie knew that you were scared that she would be mad at what you did, but that was the last thing that was on her mind, she was only concerned with helping you.

"Darling, I'm not mad at you at all, but I need to know what happened so I can help you. "I cut my leg and I tried to stand, but it hurt so much, I passed out," you said. "Okay, I need to see your leg okay," she says, helping you sit up on the bathroom floor. "It's not just my leg," you say looking down at the floor, not wanting to meet her eyes.

"Alright, we will take care of everything, let's just take this one step at a time. You nod in agreement, taking off your sweatpants and sweatshirt as Lizzie starts a bath for you. She helped you up from the floor, not paying excessive attention to the cuts on your arms and legs, only focusing on making sure you are comfortable and safe.

You didn't look up from the bubbles in the bathtub scared to meet Lizzie's gaze. She said nothing, getting ready to leave the bathroom to get you new clothes when you stopped her, "pleases stay, I don't want to be alone right now, it's scary," continuing to look at anything but her. "Okay love, can you tell me what's scary?" she asks to take a seat on the floor next to the bathtub.

"The thoughts, I can't seem to make them go away, I just want them to go away," you say as you lay your head on Lizzie's shoulder, quietly starting to cry. "I know darling, it's so hard, but you are so brave, I know that telling you this may not help you but that's what I'm here to do. I will be here for you, whenever you need me, because I love you," she says, kissing the top of your head. "Now let's get you washed up, we can cuddle and talk after." You nod your head as you stare blankly at the wall.

Lizzie was gentle with your arms and legs, considering they were covered in new and old cuts. Some are scared over, some only a couple days old. After finishing up with the bath she grabbed fresh clothes for you from your closet and helped you into them, making sure to be extra careful.

You sat on the bathroom counter as she took the first aid kit from the cabinet under the sink, taking out gauze medical tape and antibiotic ointment.

Working quickly and carefully she disinfected the cuts for a final time before applying the ointment and wrapping your arms, doing the same steps with your legs. Once finished she put everything back, and washed her hands before picking you up and carrying you back to your room. Whimpering in pain as your legs wrapped around her torso, your face in the crook of her neck.

She sat you down on the bed making sure to grab your favorite blanket before getting into comfy clothes herself, grabbing an extra sweatshirt for you, before climbing into bed.

Acceptance

Lizzie helped work with you for the next few weeks, helping you find a therapist to help you process your grief and help you through any bumps in the road. You had some ups and downs but were overall doing well, you worked with a therapist to help you process your grief, you also had Lizzie by your side the whole time, being supportive as ever.

You were getting to the place in the grieving process that you were starting to accept reality for how it was. You knew that your brother was gone, and while you would still have some days that were harder than others, you knew that he was watching over you.

"Darling, I'm so proud of you, you have been so brave through this whole journey, I know that it was hard, and you felt like you would never be the same, but you are doing so well, and I couldn't be more proud of you," Lizzie says as you lay between her legs watching a movie. You just blush and look down at your hands, fidgeting with the rings on her fingers. Shifting so that you were face to face with her, lifting your chin, so that you were looking at her.

"I know that you have a hard time taking compliments, but believe me when I tell you, I am beyond proud of you. You have gone through so much, faced so many challenges, but you're here and working through your grief in a healthier way. I hope that you can learn to love yourself the way that I love you, unconditionally and forever. You are my everything, and I hope I can be yours." She says the last part a whisper, but you still heard her. You smiled as you saw small tears form in your girlfriend's eyes. "You're already my everything." You say pulling her in for a kiss.

#elizabeth olsen #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen x you #elizabeth olsen imagine #elizabeth olsen x female reader

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thecarnivorousmuffinmeta · 7 months

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Wait, now I'm curious about Elizabeth and Hermione. How are they different people?

Reference to this post.

The short answer, read the book.

The slightly longer but still short answer in ways that I as the nitpicky author say "it's totally significant". (A note, also, this is Hermione of the fic versus Hermione of canon who is herself a different beast).

Elizabeth's much more competitive than Hermione of the fic. Hermione of the fic is competitive, she wants to be the best, but she doesn't have the same unholy drive that Elizabeth has where she will crush all opponents in her path. Lily seems to be better than her? ALL COMPETITION MUST DIE! Where Hermione, somewhat, relents on bothering to ask Lily how she does what she does beyond nit picky "you're doing it wrong" lectures, Elizabeth never lets go and it's less of a "you're doing it wrong" and more resentment that Lily doesn't play by the rules Elizabeth knows so well and is amazing at.

We also see this come into play briefly at the party. Elizabeth immediately goes to greet Lily and then beelines off to remind people who hate her that she's here and is better than them in every possible way. She's extremely assertive in a way that Hermione of the fic just isn't quite (Hermione of the fic appreciated being appreciated, and being the smartest, but even she isn't rubbing her essays in Draco's face saying, "Look what grade I got. Look, Draco, look at my deeeeeeeeliiiiiiicioooooooous perfect score. Look at it, yes, cry, Draco, cry".

It's also there in the relationship to Theyn as well as Lily in regards to Theyn. Elizabeth makes it very clear that Lily's second fiddle to Elizabeth when it comes to Theyn. Lily's... neat and all (but mostly an idiot in Elizabeth's eyes) but Elizabeth's the one who has been friends with Theyn longer, is a real mage, and was invited on this quest thing. Elizabeth's also very possessive in general of her friendship with Theyn as well as her firm position as being more talented than him (though she's respectful of him being royalty). Lily, on the other hand, due to being more talented/a threat is um not "Your Highness". Hermione of the fic, while she doesn't get Lily and she's frustrated by her, doesn't do this same power move with her other acquaintances.

Elizabeth's also... I don't know if more stubborn but more something. She genuinely would have read those tomes down there in the pit until she died had Lily not insisted, multiple times, that they can get out. (And even then Lily kind of had to just do it because Elizabeth wasn't buying it). Hermione of the fic is stubborn but a little less strong-willed/not that ridiculous in "death or surrender? I CHOOSE DEATH!"

She's also very concerned about image, which is part of the competitiveness. Elizabeth goes out of her way to look perfect, be perfect, and make sure that everyone knows it. There's not a hair out of place, her clothes are pressed, and she is every student body president who has ever lived on steroids who is also Valedictorian. Hermione, while she prided herself on being the smartest, prided herself on not being the most put together/well made-up girl and hyper focused on being an intellectual. Elizabeth is the intellectual and everything else too, she wins at everything, you worm.

There's also things about Elizabeth's background that are very different from Hermione's that informed some of the above differences. Elizabeth, for various reasons, doesn't have a home to go back to and did not have a good home life when she was on Earth. She also doesn't see the academy as the end all be all but her path to the top of the military/society, where Hermione had no real goals beyond going to Hogwarts at a young age and doing well in her classes.

She's also not quite as authority respecting as Hermione. She has a great appreciation for them/listens to them but it's not quite Hermione's need to please teachers as it is the need to be proven right in every moment of every day.

She plays a similar role to Hermione of the original fic but there were a number of things about her that changed in the transition both to suit the story better and make her her own character.

#the heart of the world #sisyphus book series #the heart of the world meta #elizabeth sisyphus #meta #luxaii

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phoenixkaptain · 1 year

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Have you ever noticed that while we have a bunch of evidence that William explicitly told Elizabeth not to go near the Circus Baby animatronic, and the implication of the lines is that he said this multiple times and was very insistent on it, and the Fredbear plush (no matter who you think is speaking through it) told the Crying Child not to go near the animatronics in general, the lines here also suggest that it has given this advice multiple times, we don’t actually have any evidence that Michael was ever told not to go near any of the animatronics?

In fact, in regard to Michael, the only evidence we do have is Michael being explicitly told to go mess around with animatronics. “It was right where you said it would be.” “I put her back together, just like you asked me to.” These both tell us that 1. Unlike the other children, Michael was not only encouraged to go hang out with animatronics but was also encouraged to go mess around with animatronics and 2. Michael’s tone of speaking could imply that this is the first time he’s been told to go mess around with animatronics.

Now, I’m not saying that William, from the very start, took a baby Michael and just handed him over to Fredbear without worrying about it, but I do think William tried to get Michael invested in some aspect of the business. I believe this because Michael’s the oldest son. And while Utah doesn’t have heir apparent to the family title, it did, back in the seventies and eighties, have a common idea that young men should follow in their fathers’ footsteps. Or, at the very least, the oldest son should bond with his father through a shared knowledge of the father’s job.

This was exceptionally common everywhere, but especially in Utah, where the people have always been (as we will diplomatically call it) traditional.

(But, of course, the Aftons probably are not originally from Utah. That doesn’t actually have much of a sway in form of argument in this particular case, because Mormons have a long history of outcasting people they considered “other.” If you smoked, if you drank to excessively, if you didn’t go to church, if you did go to church but not the “correct” way (I have no fucking clue what the correct way is, I only know that I, personally, did not do it correctly as a four-year-old, I know, baffles the mind), you were other and therefore, nobody would speak to you. And, more importantly to my case, nobody would go to your business.

William, being the one who spoke to more people (if we trust the books) had to at least play at being charmingly British enough that his neighbours wouldn’t think he’s a bad person. In fact, they would probably accept that he doesn’t want to go to church if he just used being from another country to get out of it (but they would probably suggest it everytime he spoke to them anyway) but William would have to fit in in other ways so he didn’t come across as too other. Enter Michael.

His relationship with Michael, if it mimicked the common relationship of father-and-son at the time, would be enough to charm people into believing he’s a family man and going to his diner anyway. Having three children was already going to boost people’s opinions of him, but if, on top of that, his oldest son “helped” with animatronics or paperwork or even if he just occasionally wiped tables, that would add more to the public image of the business being a family operation, just this one included two families.)

Admittedly, we don’t know much about how Michael acts. But, since it’s a similar case to Ethan Winters from the Resident Evil series (1. Both first person. 2. Both keeping the face out of view from the viewer, even going as far as obscuring mirrors or leaving mirrors out entirely. 3. Both of them get taken over by an outside entity (Ennard and Mold, respectively). 4. Both seem to do incredibly stupid things (“I think I’ll go see my wife in this ominous house I was given the address to multiple years after her disappearane and assumed death. I want my dearest darlingest baby girl back so I am going to fight hell monsters with whatever weapons aren’t nailed down and if I have to fight a god, then I guess I have to fight a god. I inexplicably know how to put together a functioning flamethrower.” “Well, Dad told me to go down in his weird undergroudn bunker that he keeps behind the house where my sister who has been missing for some amount of time is apparently hanging out, so I guess I’ll head down there on the nightly.” “I will not make any noise of complaint or annoyance or fear or even pain as I am inconvenienced and hurt and even murdered.” “I inexplicably consider being used as a flesh suit by the possessed wires of multiple animatronics a win because I’m pretty sure my sister was in there somewhere, so great news, Old Man, I’ve succeeded in the task.”) 5. I like comparing media that technically is very different but is similar in key ways and that’s what I’m currently doing. Shh, go with it, my child, go with it) I’m going to assume that Michael’s face does the same thing Ethan’s does. As in, if you wait long enough, even in situations where Ethan should reasonably be terrified, he just looks sort of like he’s wondering if he left the oven on. I like to think that’s how Michael’s face looks. Like: “Oh no, Ballora could catch me at any moment and kill me! …I wonder if that bird I saw last week is having any luck finding worms? It’s been a bit of a dry year.”

Michael certainly seems determined, but he only seems determined if we assume that he’s in more than one game. Like, if we think Michael isn’t the guy running the pizzeria in Pizzeria Simulator, then Michael said “I’m going to come find you” to his father and didn’t do anything? If we assume he isn’t the nightguard of the first game, if we assume he isn’t the second nightguard in the second game, if we assume he is only the protagonist of Sister Location, then Michael is the funniest character of all time. Because he literally said “Father, I am going to come find you” and then went back inside and enjoyed a quiet life? Maybe he did look around but didn’t go to any of the obvious places, the restaurants his father worked and killed at? Maybe he knew exactly where William was and just said “Ah, fock it, I’m going back to my tele-novella, tell me when you’re dead, Father.” It also makes William screaming for Michael a lot funnier because oh my God, William, do you think he’ll just teleport there?

(Sorry, that was a tangent. I saw someone complain about the night guards all being the same person or related to the events of the game in some way and it kind of annoyed me. “Why must they be the same person?” you ask? Because that’s just basic storytelling. The characters have to be related to the plot in some way, or the storytelling is nonexistent. And besides, from a narrative perspective, it makes a more satisfying story if Michael is the night guard of at least one location, because it means that Michael isn’t the stupidest man alive. He’s looking for his father. If I was in Michael Afton’s shoes, looking for my father who I knew was a tad obsessive about robots, I would go to the robot restaurant. It makes sense. (I’m sorry, I went on a tangent within my apology for going on a tangent. I will get back to the actual point now.))

We know that William told Elizabeth not to go near animatronics (or at least not to go near one animatronic). We know that someone told the Crying Child not to go near any animatronics. But we don’t have any evidence that Michael was ever told any of the animatronics were dangerous. In fact, evidence suggests that he was not only told to hang around animatronics, but he’s basically used to them. He finds his brother’s fear of animatronics amusing, which, to me, suggests that he finds the animatronics to be the opposite of scary. It suggests that he’s around them enough (because apparently Crying Child and Michael just hung out at the robot restaurant nearly every day of their lives, for some reason) that he’s either ignored any warnings that they’re dangerous or he was never told they could be dangerous in the first place.

Why does any of this matter?

Because I am sick and tired of people complaining about Michael killing his brother. They say it makes him an asshole big brother, I’ve seen some suggest it makes him just like his father, and I respectfully disagree. Michael is certainly not winning any Brother of the Year awards, don’t get me wrong, but I don’t find his relationship with his brother to be unrealistically cruel.

Michael doesn’t hurt his brother. He only scares him. That’s his entire goal. He’s a dick, yes, but he doesn’t seem to actively pursue harmjng his little brother.

Michael was never told the animatronics were dangerous. Michael was never told to stay away from them, and even if he was, it wasn’t terribly convincing. (“Son, the robot performers are super duper dangerous and you should never ever not once go near any of them. Now, here’s a dollar, go play near the robot performers.”)

Michael, if anything, is trying to get his brother to see that he’s overreacting. He’s trying to prove that they aren’t dangerous. He’s trying to show his brother that the animatronics won’t hurt him. He’s making fun of his brother, yes, but the fact that he gets him so close to the stage and goes so far as to put his head in Fredbear’s mouth tells me that he was basically doing something similar to shoving a worm in someone’s face. He was trying to scare him, yes, but then his brother would, we assume, see that nothing happened and would be shaken, but ultimately admit that Michael was right, the animatronics aren’t dangerous.

This, obviously, isn’t what happens. But I’m pretty sure Michael didn’t purposefully kill his brother and I’m even more sure that he wasn’t even trying to hurt him.

I have three older brothers. And, it was a similar situation in that the four of us were left to watch each other a lot while our parents were at work. And while I know my brothers are not the mold for all brothers, I also know that there’s a reason people talk about the “Cain Instinct.” Boys roughhouse. And, while not actively encouraged in Utah, it’s certainly not discouraged either.

Michael was being a dick, yes. But, the behaviour is similar to a child who doesn’t think that guns are dangerous, whether because they’re not told or because they’re left unsupervised with access to guns. This sort of incident is not without precedent. And while it was certainly stupid, Michael didn’t do anything that a dumb big brother wouldn’t do.

#fnaf #five nights at freddy's #michael afton #crying child #cc afton #i like when people call him cc #it’s technically a name or at least a nickname #but also it sounds like a band #‘up next: cc afton and spectacular sea otters’#somethin like that #anyway #do i think michael afton is a bad brother?#no #do i think he’s a dumb kid?#yes #i don’t think michael did anything morally objectionable #in fact i’m gonna say it #i don’t think michael did anything wrong #he was effectively smearing mud on a germaphobe #he was being a dick #but he was also being a brother #there’s a reason bothers and brothers are only a letter apart #and it’s because brothers r bothers #the inane ramblings of a madman #long post #can you believe this post was just gonna be a little thing #haha like i can make an essay under five paragraphs long

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whencallstheheart · 5 days

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In regards to the question of “Was it the the plan all along for Elizabeth to end up with Nathan even after picking Lucas in season 8? My personal opinion is no.

Based on how the love triangle played out over seasons 7 and 8 I think that Nathan was the choice they were building up to in season 8, hence why most of the major storylines involve him and Elizabeth and then at some point they decided to switch to Lucas probably fairly late into filming. Either that or it was always written as Lucas the whole time and season 8 is just poorly written, who knows?

That being said after Elizabeth chooses Lucas I don’t think they were planning on having her switch at any point. My reasons for this are: The way she rejects Nathan in season 8 doesn’t really leave much room open for her ever being with him and seemingly was used to kind of retroactively negate all the moments she has with Nathan in 6-8 and kind of pass them off as just being kind of about Jack. Clearly season 11 is gonna remedy this but at the time it was pretty much the nail in the coffin for a Nathan/Elizabeth relationship.

In season 9 Mei comes to town as an obvious love interest for Nathan and is on the season 9 poster, Elizabeth and Lucas get engaged and spend the entirety of season 9 bonding Lucas and Little Jack together. I mean what was the point of like half of what happens in season 9 if they knew they were gonna flip back to Nathan?

As for season 10, I really don’t know why they decided to switch, it seemed like the backlash of the whole thing had mostly died down. I will say however that it seems that seasons 10 and now 11 have kind of validated a lot of the criticisms of the Lucas and Elizabeth relationship that fans have had, which does kind of make it seem like they knew that maybe it wasn’t the strongest storyline to begin with. I don’t think the writers always know where a story is gonna end up on this show which is why we get some of these whiplash storylines when they have to pivot based on what the show runner or the network or whoever wants. I’m not complaining about where we are now but it’s been a wild ride to say the least lol.

Yeah, I agree about season 9 with Mei. That felt very intentional. Putting them on the poster was huge. I think they were firm with their choice of picking Lucas which by all accounts was very last minute even during filming the episode. They decided on it and went with it. I don't think they intended to switch to Nathan after making that season 8 finale choice either. At least not going into the choice. It was supposed to be final. That was now the path forward under John's guidance as showrunner. I kind of think what the writers felt wasn't necessarily factored into the choice because the show was writing towards Nathan and like you said and I've said... they're putting all our criticisms in the show now (which is so funny to me I love it so much). They've always had the deeper, more meaningful connection which couldn't have been a mistake, you know? They could've written Lucas better but they didn't. Why not? Maybe because it wasn't necessary until that choice was made and then the writers had to try to make it make sense.

But I think after 9 they had to have some idea that they wanted something different because they brought in Lindsay. I believe John said he already had mapped out 10 so he wasn't expecting to be let go. I'm so thankful we have Lindsay now but the whole thing is really messy. I feel like we could talk about this forever. There's so many different angles to look at it from. I'm just happy that we are where we're at now with the show. Even if they replace Lindsay, at least we'll have this foundation for Nathan and Elizabeth moving forward.

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ltwilliammowett · 1 year

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The death of Captain Cook- 14th Febuary 1779

When Captain James Cook came to the Hawaiian Islands in 1779 during his third voyage around the world, he had no idea what nasty consequences this would have for him.

At first, everything went as planned. The Hawaiians got on well with the Europeans and presumably (this circumstance has long been disputed and should therefore be regarded with caution) even thought Cook was the return of a seasonally revered deity, Lono, because his arrival coincided with the corresponding time at which this supernatural being was supposed to arrive.

(x)

As Cook left two days later, on 4 February 1779, all was initially quiet. However, when he returned on 11 February to replace a Resolution mast that had been damaged in the storm, relations were testy, for the Hawaiians were puzzled by the totally unexpected return of their god, whose season had now expired. They became suspicious and quarrels between the natives and the whites became more frequent. To put it politely, they behaved like elephants in a china shop. They disregarded the customs and habits of their hosts and even buried a Sailor in a place only allowed for chiefs.

When islanders stole the Resolution's large boat to punish their invaders by taking something valuable from them. Cook captured the local king Kalaniʻōpuʻu as a hostage for its return - something he had, by the way, successfully done many times before on his voyages to get what he wanted. However, considerable unrest ensued because the king refused to comply with his transfer to the ship.

When Cook and a few companions came ashore in a small boat, the confrontation escalated. This included the firing of rifle shots and his men trying to get back into the boat and thus to safety. Whether Cook was then killed from behind or stabbed to death because he turned towards the boat and shouted to his men not to shoot is not clear. In any case, he is said to have fallen forward into the shallow water, while the rest of the small crew remaining in the dinghy tried to escape from the danger zone together with their boat without giving their captain any help.

The Death of Cook, John Cleveley the Younger, 1784 (x)

Thus James Cook, as well as four marines and some Hawaiians, died on 14 February 1779.

Account of Cook’s death written by midshipman Trevenen who was present in Resolution‘s cutter literally only metres away from Cook when he was killed in Carricacoolah Bay, Hawaii, on 14th February 1779. Likely written on board Resolution (x)

After the incident, Captain Charles Clerke took command of the expedition and the Resolution, handing the Discovery over to Lieutenant John Gore. Clerke was wise enough to refrain from reprisals and, through the mediation of the priest and a son of the king, was at least handed over some of Cook's body parts and those of the maritime soldiers, which lasted until 20 February, as his body was dismembered and distributed to several higher-ranking natives, which was not uncommon among the inhabitants of Polynesian space at the time. As a rule, the fragments of respected enemies and chiefs were even given a certain veneration. Cook was identified by a burn on his right hand that had occurred years earlier in New Zealand. A burial at sea was held for him in the bay on 21 February.

Captain James Cook mourning ring, owned by Elizabeth Cook, ca. 1780 (x)

The next day, the ships departed for home. News of Cook's death reached England by land six months before the ships returned home. His successor tried to continue the mission, but failed at 70° 33' N due to the pack ice, which seemed even stronger than the previous year. On the return voyage to Petropavlovsk, Captain Clerke died at the age of 38. Virginia-born Lieutenant Gore, who had already taken part in Cook's first Pacific voyage, led the expedition back to England, where it arrived on 6 October 1780.

#naval history #death of captain cook #14. feb 1779 #age of sail

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missellaneousworks · 1 year

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Heartbreak - A Sunny Day Jack Drabble

Pairings: Sunny Day Jack x Ella (OC)

Context: Interaction is mostly platonic, but with some pining on Jack's part. This takes place a little while after Ella finds the VHS tape and Jack, but before Ella falls for Jack.

Something is Wrong With Sunny Day Jack is a +18 ONLY series. MINORS DNI.

______________________________

"I love you. Most ardently. Please do me the honor of accepting my hand."

Jack blinked in surprise at Mr. Darcy's words as he uttered them to Elizabeth Benett on the screen. "Huh," he made a noise as if processing his confession with as much confusion as Elizabeth. "The confession scene is happening much earlier than I thought it would..."

"Shhhh," Ella put her finger towards her lips but tilted her head towards him with a knowing look. "Just wait."

Jack brought his attention back to the screen and watched the rest of the scene unfold, as Darcy seemed utterly confounded by Elizabeth's rejection and rebuttal of his treatment towards her and her family. Sure enough, the conversation began to deteriorate between the two when Elizabeth threw one final insult toward the proud Mr. Darcy.

"And those are the words of a gentleman. From the first moment I met you, your arrogance and conceit, your selfish disdain for the feelings of others made me realize that you were the last man in the world I could ever be prevailed upon to marry."

Jack couldn't help but wince a little bit. Elizabeth certainly had a right to feel angry, it sounded like Darcy had a hand in breaking up the relationship between her sister and his best friend, among other transgressions. Anyone would be mad about that. Yet, seeing how Darcy looked at Elizabeth, so close together, a part of him couldn't help but feel a little sorry for him.

Jack was about to try his luck again by asking Ella another question, now that the scene was coming to an end, but... she seemed lost in thought. She was chewing on the inside of her cheek and her gaze seemed so distantly sad. He was about to open his mouth to ask what was wrong when she beat her to it, "Hey, Jack?"

"Yes, Sunshine?" Jack answered back cheerfully, almost a little too quickly.

"I've... got a personal question to ask you," she spoke so carefully, as if hesitant on the next words out of her mouth.

"Sure, go ahead! You'll find me and open book, Sunspot," he puffed out his chest, as if proud of that statement.

Ella laughed nervously in return. "Okay, but I totally understand if you don't want to answer." She fidgeted with her hands, averting her case from Jack as she spoke. "Before you--before we met, have you ever gotten your heart broken?"

Out of all questions, Jack had to admit he wasn't expecting that. He regarded Ella for a long moment, her shy gaze finally peeking up from behind her fallen hair. He gave her a gentle smile in return. While Jack didn't quite know where her question came from, he hoped a small bit of the honesty he could offer would help in some way.

"You know what?" He finally replied, causing Ella to lift her head with anticipation. "Truth be told, yeah, I have."

"R-really?" Ella sifted her body on the couch, tucking her knees beneath her to inch closer. Her genuinely surprised reaction was actually quite adorable.

Jack chuckled and nodded. "Oh yeah! But we all have at some point. So, you're not alone when it comes to experiencing it."

Ella shifted back again, trying to mask her nervousness, and utterly failing at it. "Ah ha ha ha! Wha-- wh-who said I've ever gotten my heart broken? Naaaaah, not me!"

Jack's smile worked into a crooked half-grin, seeing through Ella's attempt to lie. "Ella, I hope you know there's no shame in heartbreaks. It's just a part of life, and it's very common." Ella was back on the couch fully, still avoiding looking at Jack. Not wanting her to feel embarrassed, he shifted his torso to face her to seem more open. "But, I know you're a very strong person who has been through a lot in your life. And the good news is that heartbreaks don't last forever! It might not seem like it at first, but it will get better in the end."

Ella sighed, but her lips quirked up in a dry half-smile. Like she was just trying for his sake, though she wasn't fully convinced. "But how do you get past your heartbreak? Only thing people keep telling me is 'time will heal all wounds.' I'm... tired of waiting. Really tired."

Jack understood that sentiment more than Ella could ever know. He could feel the sadness slowly emitting from her heart. The blue-haired man occasionally sensed glimpses of this sadness and other times, painful loneliness. More concerning was the creeping despair that would snake up to Ella's heart when she was alone for too long. Whenever that happened, he did his best to prevent Ella from falling into that hole of anguish, but now he had a name for the emotion she was feeling: heartbreak.

The realization was also met with another question Jack had in the back of his mind: Who did this to you?

But as much as he wanted to get that answer from her quivering lips, as much as he would very much like to find whoever could hurt such a kind, creative, and passionate woman who wouldn't hurt a fly... it wasn't what Ella needed right now. Now more than anything, Ella needed a friend to share her troubles with. And who was Sunny Day Jack but the bestest friend anyone could ask for?

Jack took a breath to coordinate his words, "Well, heartbreak is also a time of self-reflection. You can reflect on why had your heartbreak and you have to work on it, little by little." It was Jack's turn to turn his gaze downwards. He did not enjoy thinking about the past--that wasn't him anymore--but if the tiniest fraction of empathizing with Ella's pain could help her heal and get him just a little closer to her, it would be worth it. "When I had my heart broken, it was hard to overcome. But I also realized I hadn't been the best person that I could have been. I think it's important to learn from your past so you can make yourself happy, and avoid any future heartbreak."

Ella patiently listened to Jack's explanation. The expression of concern on her face didn't escape him when he talked about himself, but then her expression shifted to more thoughtful. "Mistakes, huh?" She mused out loud. "I guess... thinking about it now, one of my mistakes was not being more open about stuff that bothered me. I kind of kept my bad feelings from-- um, my previous partner, and I guess that built resentment between us."

Jack caught onto Ella stopping herself from saying the name of whoever hurt her so badly. But he kept himself in check, his reassuring smile remained ever-present. "I'm happy that it's given you something to learn from for your future relationships. Just remember not to keep things to yourself for too long, otherwise, you'll be frustrated that your problems aren't resolved. Communication is key, after all! And I'm sure your partner will be so happy you're sharing your worries with them and will make it easier to understand you."

Ella nodded, allowing Jack's advice to sink in, but her expression still seemed worrisome still. "But what if... what if I do tell them how I'm feeling, and they don't... listen? Maybe they have something more important going on?"

Jack frowned at that. "Well, if you're opening up to your partner and they don't want to listen, then they're not the right one for you." Jack was resolute in his response as if it was the most basic answer in the universe. "Your feelings are valid and a good partner will want to listen to you and help you. If they can't respect your thoughts and feelings, then the relationship isn't healthy."

Ella's round brown eyes looked into Jack's dark ones for a long moment. Something seemed to have clicked in that intriguing mind of hers. She made a small noise of confirmation before she readjusted herself and faced the TV again. "I guess... that' sone way to look at it. Honestly, there were times I thought I was making a big deal out of nothing."

"Oh, Sunshine," Jack's voice was soft and gentle as he carefully brought his large hand up and patted Ella on the head. "I might not know exactly what happened, but I highly doubt you were making a big deal out of nothing. If it was enough to worry you, then it's enough to be able to talk about it if you needed to."

Ella froze for a moment at the sudden contact of Jack's hand. But it wasn't unwelcome. Far from it. It was... comforting. Nice even. Very nice. Gradually, Ella's shoulders relaxed, she even found herself slightly leaning into Jack's hand. "I think I have some stuff to rethink about later, but... Thanks, Jack. That... that helped a bit."

Secretly, Jack was pleased Ella was getting more comfortable around him, but he was even more glad that he seemed to help ease her sadness if only a little bit. "Of course, Ella! I'm happy I was able to help! And for what it's worth," he removed his head from her head and placed it on her shoulder to get her full attention. "I think you deserve a partner who will listen to you and make you happy. You're a very unique and kind woman who deserves nothing less. Maybe even more." It was the truth, too. In time, he wanted to be that someone for Ella. But... he needed to wait a bit longer.

The compliment made Ella's cheeks turn pink, a small but touched smile pulled at her lips. Her eyes flashed to the TV and squinted at the screen. "Oh crap!" Her exclamation caused Jack to pull his hand away. "We missed a good chunk of the movie! Hang on, I'm gonna rewind it a bit..." She reached for the controller and went back a couple of scenes.

"Ah ha ha! I'm surprised you broke your own rule of no talking during movies," the clown chuckled, wagging his finger.

Ella rolled her eyes at that. "It's only when it's a movie being watched for the first time by one or more parties. Speaking of which," she leered at Jack teasingly, "Shall we resume?"

Jack nodded as Ella hit the play button and the movie started where they last remembered. There was another long moment the two didn't speak, but once again, Ella broke the silence. "Jack?"

"Yes, Sunshine?"

"Um, what you said earlier about yourself, about 'not being the best person you could be.' For what it's worth... I think you're pretty great." With that sentence, Ella leaned into Jack's side.

Warmth radiated through Jack's being as Ella was the closest she had been since the two had met. With slow, calculated movements he stretched his arm drape along the back of the couch so that Ella could comfortably rest her head against it, an action she cautiously, yet contently leaned into.

In that little moment of happiness, he could sense something else small and light bubble up from Ella's heart. A warm, soft feeling. It was just starting to bud. It was... so small yet so precious to Jack at that moment.

His eyes looked at her with soft tenderness. "That... means a lot coming from you. Thank you, Sunshine."

As they enjoyed each other's company, he hoped this movie had a happy ending after all. Because he was going to make sure there would be one for the two of them.

#Sunny Day Jack #Something is Wrong With Sunny Day Jack #SDJ #Sunny Day Jack OC #SDJ OC #Sunny Day Jack Fanfic #MissElla's Works

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imsorryimlate · 1 year

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I arrived at Geneva. My father and Ernest yet lived; but the former sunk under the tidings that I bore. I see him now, excellent and venerable old man! his eyes wandered in vacancy, for they had lost their charm and their delight—his niece, his more than daughter, whom he doated on with all that affection which a man feels, who, in the decline of life, having few affections, clings more earnestly to those that remain. Cursed, cursed be the fiend that brought misery on his grey hairs, and doomed him to waste in wretchedness! He could not live under the horrors that were accumulated around him; an apoplectic fit was brought on, and in a few days he died in my arms.

(vol. III, chapter 6)

“his more than daughter, whom he doated on with all that affection which a man feels”

no one will ever convince me that the relationship between alphonse and elizabeth isn’t weird as hell… like yes, “more than a daughter” is fairly evident in the way she became a companion to him, which could be platonic and somewhat innocent. but at the same time, i feel like it’s not.

also, part of me wants to say like “oh poor elizabeth, she didn’t have an easy time becoming a substitute wife for her uncle-father” but some other part wants to interrogate it further, to question elizabeth’s passivity. i’m not saying that she was some sort of seducer, definitely not, but i wonder if she took shelter in the close companionship with alphonse. as @yallemagne pointed out, the way elizabeth and alphonse question victor is very similar, and the post offers some interesting different explanations. but what if it’s just an alignment, that they have spent so much time together that they are mirroring each other?

(which is interesting, considering how elizabeth is already said to resemble caroline. she’s both of them, the perfect daughter. i have yet to finish and publish it, but i started writing meta around the idea of victor and elizabeth as rivals for their parents’ love, and this is something i’ll put a pin in to come back to later)

elizabeth’s letter to victor regarding if he had someone else holds so much anxiety. and while she very clearly expresses a wish to marry victor, i cannot help but speculate if, on some subconscious level, she was hoping that he would have someone else because she wanted to stay in her companionship with alphonse. not because she was particularly enamoured with her ageing uncle-father, but because it was familiar and safe. everything else has changed; william, justine and clerval are dead, and victor is increasingly sick and unstable. everything is falling apart around her, so why wouldn’t she want to stick with the one stable person in her life?

either way, it was already shaping up to be a strange sort of three-person marriage. alphonse primarily focuses on how victor and elizabeth’s union would make him happy, and when they decide to marry he immediately starts talking about how they will make babies that will be companions for them (read: him), and he’s the one planning the wedding and the wedding night, and buying them a house close enough to visit every day. even for me, as a person who is extremely close with my family, it comes across as a lot, and needy. he clearly has serious separation anxiety, which is understandable, but it manifests itself inappropriately.

also, the way alphonse is centring himself is very reminiscent of victor. it would seem that egocentrism is a frankenstein family trait, at least for the men.

#much to think about #underscrutinised dynamic #frankenstein weekly #frankenstein #meta #my meta

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nulliustram-webfiction · 9 months

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Over the last two weeks, I've put up four pilots. Now, you get to vote on which idea continues to be refined into a free web series. Below the poll, you will be given the title card/cover for every one of these five options, along with a link to the free public pilot, a brief 'elevator pitch', and what I enjoy the most about each series. Donate to my ko-fi or my patreon, and you will have access to all sixteen extra chapters.

Creature Watching

Its pilot (Rest Stop) is on tumblr.

Churyl is the perfect city. If you don't look to deep into it. People from all around the world come to see what lies under the surface. And they never come back alive... Lots of uncanny valley stuff. Not outright scary all of the time, but just plain. Weird. Deals more with supernatural and folklore elements.

EndWalkers

EndWalkers already has one volume out on RoyalRoad, with more than 100k words, which you can read here.

An action-packed story of a group of people jumping from apocalyptic dimension to apocalyptic dimension, playing out a video game in real life. With the first volume drawing to a close, the daily update schedule will be slowed down to a weekly one if it does not win this poll. There is a shapeshifting gay AND trans Muslim catboy (mecore) and Book 2 is in a world torn apart by a war between ravens and octopi, its great.

Key Mates

Chapter One is on tumblr.

Anne and Flynn are discovered to be psychics. Except instead of any actual fun superpowers, they have the power to pick out a key that the other is thinking about or in contact in. People romanticize it constantly, but its useless in every way. Except for a heist. NOT a dig at romantic soulmate tropes, though they are referenced. I'm simply having fun with the implications of having a force that ties you together. How you would navigate relationships with other people and yourself too.

Tumble Dried Pirates

Pilot is now live on tumblr

Xara is from the modern era, and a passionate advocate for freedom of information and archiving of content. You know... Piracy. When a dryer machine at her local laundromat spits out Elizabeth Carnegie, a pirate from the Golden Age of cut-throat violence and smuggling, she isn't prepared for her. Or the team of time-travel police who have now put a target on her back. Yes. They are lesbians. With a time traveling dryer machine. Also, classism!!

Surviving Nulls

Pilot is live on tumblr!!

Nulls are monsters that feed off the magic of humans, sucking away until nothing is left. And Priscilla Farooq, widely regarded to have no talent for art, magic, or sport, finds herself in the unique situation to be the only one to stop it. Even if she thinks she's a little bit of nothing herself... This was written specifically to be an aspec fantasy. Priscilla is aplaroace. She simply doesn't feel any kind of love. And that's okay, even if it takes her time to come to terms with it. There are more aspec characters, too, showcasing the entire spectrum, and just queer people in general. Main character's atheist, but lots of Muslim relatives, and some Jewish side characters, some pagan, it's a mixed bag. This is also the only other series that will be posted on RoyalRoad, with more than daily chapter updates.

That's all! Consider donating if you're interested in reading more. ko-fi | patreon

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liaromancewriter · 1 year

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Christmas Tree Traditions

Premise: Decorating the Christmas Tree is a chance to create new traditions.

Book: Open Heart (pre and post-series) Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x Cassie Valentine (F!MC); feat. Max Valentine (M!OC) and Olivia Valentine (F!OC) Rating/Category: Teen. Fluff. Words: 2,500

A/N: Submission for @choicesficwriterscreations Holiday celebration event and @choicesholidays week 2 “that’s the holiday spirit”. Also submitting to @choicesdecember2022 Day 16 prompt “Would’ve, Could’ve, Should’ve”. I’m also using @choicesflashfics week 13 prompt 3 and holiday prompts 51 and 93, all in bold.

Part 1: The beginning of something new

The bright sunshine and seventy-degree temperatures were as far from the snowy Christmas of her youth as it could get. But inside the luxury condominium on Miami’s South of Fifth, there were signs of the season in the festive garlands decked across the windows, a beautifully decorated tree and a matching wreath on the door.

After hanging the last ornament in place, Olivia Valentine stepped back to admire her handiwork.

“Wow!”

She grinned at the chorus of appreciation behind her. Olivia glanced over her shoulder to find Cassie and Max staring at the tree with wide-eyed gazes, speechless for once.

The twins were still wearing their school uniforms. Olivia spied fallen schoolbags near the door and sighed inwardly. Her near-daily reminder to put away their backpacks rather than dump them in the entrance still hadn’t taken hold. A battle for another time, she thought.

“Do you like it?” she asked, holding out her hands and taking comfort when they snuggled on either side of her.

In a couple of years, they would say they were too old to cuddle with their mother. For now, she would savor the memories.

“It’s so pretty,” Cassie whispered reverently.

She reached for a shiny blue bell-shaped ornament and then stopped, whipping her hand behind her back. She regarded her mother, her eyes asking for permission, and Olivia nodded.

Cassie and Max crowded around the tree, their oohs and aahs mingling with the jingle of ornamental bells.

“Can I hang the ballerina ornament we made in class?” Cassie asked with eagerness and hope in her voice.

“I made a Spiderman ornament,” Max piped in excitedly. “He can guard the tree against the Green Goblin.”

“Not on this tree, sweetie,” Olivia said, mentally kicking herself when she watched disappointment gather in her children’s eyes.

And then an idea formed in her head, one that was as bittersweet as it was inspired.

“But maybe you can hang them on your own tree, just like I did when I was your age,” she said, smiling when they perked up with interest.

Olivia braced herself when the twins launched themselves at her. As they wrapped their arms around her waist and hugged her tight, she felt her heart melt.

“Can we really?” They chorused, surprised and intrigued.

“Yes. When we were seven, your aunt Elizabeth and I got to decorate our own tree,” Olivia explained, her heart hitching at the thought of her twin. “It was a small, plastic one for our dorm room at boarding school, but we had so much fun doing it together every year. It became our tradition, and it can be yours, too.”

“Can we pick our own tree?” Max tilted his head back, his green eyes pleading. “Please?”

“Today? Please, mom? Please?” Cassie joined in.

Olivia found herself nodding in agreement, their excitement chasing away her maudlin thoughts

At the end of the day, Olivia leaned against the doorway and watched her children decorate their first tree. Their happiness was contagious, giggles and laughter filling the air, and she knew it had been the right call.

The decorations were a strange hodgepodge of comic book action figures, ballerina dolls, Matchbox cars on strings and handmade cardboard ornaments. But it was theirs, and that’s what mattered.

“Your ornaments are crooked,” Cassie teased her brother, hanging her own with precision.

“No, they’re not,” Max countered, eyes determined as he haphazardly stuck a red car on his side of the tree.

And at that moment, a new tradition was born.

Part 2: The end of an era

Cassie Valentine sighed in relief as she left the pile-up on the B-W Parkway behind. After being stuck for over an hour, traffic was finally moving. She accelerated, hoping to make up for the lost time.

She was going to DC for her and Max’s annual tree decorating party. A ritual started all those years ago continued to be one of their most enduring traditions. It was even more special this time since it might be the last one. She would hopefully start her residency next summer; who knew where she’d be next Christmas?

With finals only a couple of weeks away, she mentally reviewed her notes during the rest of the drive. But her mind was also stuck on everything she should have done differently during her match interview at Edenbrook last week. Should’ve, could’ve, would’ve, she thought morosely.

It was already late afternoon by the time she left Key Bridge and followed Max’s directions to the entrance of his building. Parking in the visitor’s area, she entered the lobby, craning her head to take in the contemporary and luxurious surroundings.

She exited the elevator on the penthouse floor and strode past the first of two doors to park herself outside her brother’s new apartment. Unrolling her scarf with one hand, she pressed the doorbell with the other.

Seconds later, the door swung open and then she was in her brother’s arms, lifted off her feet as Max hugged her tight.

“I missed you,” he said, setting her down and closing the door.

“This is a fancy pants building,” she exclaimed, handing him her winter coat and clutching his arm as she bent down to unzip and remove her boots.

“Wait till you see the rest of it,” he said, leading her into the living room and the floor-to-ceiling windows facing the Potomac.

The first thing Cassie saw was the untrimmed tree in the corner, surrounded by boxes of ornaments and decorations collected over the years. The second was a tall building that housed the Hudson Group’s global headquarters in Rosslyn, framed between the undraped windows.

Typical, she thought, laughter escaping; the prince surveying his future kingdom. He must have read her thoughts because he chuckled and shrugged good-naturedly.

“Want the grand tour?”

Cassie followed him as he took her upstairs and downstairs from one room to another. There were moving boxes stacked against the walls, some open, others closed. The apartment lacked furniture, but he explained his plan to slowly furnish it, including the guest bedroom that was hers whenever she wanted to stay with him.

As they returned to the living room, Cassie thought about all the temporary places they’d lived in growing up. The mediocre apartments he’d rented over the years, a place to sleep and nothing more. And knew that this was different.

“You’ve bought yourself a home,” she said, awestruck, throwing her arms around him. “Max! This is your forever home.”

“Mine and the bank’s anyway,” he said, looking around at the empty walls but seeing something completely different. “You know, if you hadn’t signed the collateral papers for the trust, I doubt the bank would have approved the mortgage.”

“Well, you helped me pay for med school,” she said simply. “Anyway, you never ask me for anything, so when you did, I knew it was important.”

She glanced around the apartment again. The city lights twinkled in the distance, and she thought this was what being a grown-up was all about. She had spent the last ten years in one university after another and wondered when her adult life would truly begin.

She leaned her head on his shoulder when he joined her at the window. “First, a huge promotion at work and now your own home. I’m so proud of you. You’ve got it figured out.”

He must have heard the weepiness in her voice, for he turned her around to face him. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m just tired,” she said, sniffing away her tears. “The last few weeks have been so stressful. The match interviews didn’t go as I’d hoped; at least, I don’t think they did. What if I don’t match into Edenbrook, or at all? Almost five percent of applicants don’t. Then, the last four years would have been for nothing.”

“Well, I don’t believe that at all,” he said, dismissing the worst-case scenario. “If the idiots at Edenbrook can’t see how amazing you are, then they don’t deserve you. And neither does your Dr. Ramsey.”

Cassie smiled at the idea of the great Dr. Ethan Ramsey even knowing her name, let alone caring how amazing she could be as a doctor. If only she could get a chance to prove herself.

“I’m also sad that this might be the last year we trim our tree together,” she said, getting to the heart of her disquiet. “Everything’s changing. If I do get matched, then I’ll have to move away. Residency is intense, and we’ll hardly see each other.”

“Wherever you go, I’ll make sure we see each other as often as possible. It’s Twin Code, okay?” he said, squeezing her arm, and she nodded in acknowledgment.

His lips twisted with wry acknowledgment. “And if it’s the last time—which I don’t think it is, FYI—let’s make it count, sis.”

Half an hour later, the tree was almost done, with just a few finishing touches left. Cassie munched popcorn and wondered when the pizza would arrive.

“Would you stop eating all of the popcorn! It’s supposed to go on the tree!” Max grumbled as he reached for the bowl, only to find it half empty.

“But I’m hungry! And who puts popcorn on a tree anyway?” Cassie rolled her eyes and sneakily grabbed a fistful, ignoring Max’s protests.

“You can do whatever you want with your half of the tree,” he said, deliberately enunciating each word. “My half of the tree gets strings of popcorn.”

Cassie shrugged and looped the ancient ballerina ornament before stepping back from the tree to view their progress. As usual, her side of the tree was neat and orderly, while Max’s half looked like ornaments had exploded on the branches.

“Every damn year,” she griped, shaking her head in dismay. “Your ornaments are crooked!”

“No, they’re not,” he countered, flicking his finger against a plastic toy car with faded red paint and sending it spinning on the string.

The tree had no discernible theme or style to anyone else. It was a mix of old and new ornaments, shiny tinsel, candy canes and popcorn strings. But for the twins, it represented who they were and the continuity of traditions they valued above all. Their own Christmas tree to decorate and Twin Code.

It might be the last time they would do this together, but it wasn’t the end, only a beginning.

Part 3: New traditions

Cassie cradled her pregnant belly and waddled over from the kitchen to the living room, where Ethan had set the untrimmed Christmas tree near the windows. She tapped her fingers against her lips, eyes narrowed in concentration as she examined the tree he had selected from all angles.

She would have gone with Ethan any other year to choose the tree. It was one of her favorite things to do in the season. But at thirty weeks, she felt like a bloated whale and bloody uncomfortable.

She thought the twins might have permanently parked themselves on her bladder; that is when they weren’t somersaulting in there.

“Well? Does it earn the Cassie Valentine seal of approval?” Ethan asked from behind her.

He placed a box with the ornaments and other decorations she had selected for this year’s theme on the coffee table.

“I’ve taught you well, babe,” Cassie teased. “Remember the first year we went tree shopping? Why you thought a scrawny, anemic tree could be redeemed is beyond me.”

She shook her head in mock dismay and sighed heavily, grinning when Ethan rolled his eyes at her dramatics.

He eased her onto the couch, lifted her legs and placed her swollen feet on an ottoman. And then he got to work, following her instructions dutifully while ignoring her kibitzing.

Cassie hummed as she recalled her first tree trimming with Ethan. It had been during her third year of residency. She’d raised the possibility of decorating his apartment for the holidays. He scoffed at the notion, but she was relentless.

“What’s it going to take to convince you?” she asked, one eyebrow raised in challenge.

Well, it had taken a few nights of “convincing,” but she won in the end. One Sunday, when they were both free, they went to a tree lot near his apartment and bought their first Christmas tree together.

She couldn’t help but remember the last time she and Max had worked on their tree. Before she came to Edenbrook and met Ethan and fell in love with her medical hero. And before she knew that Boston was where she belonged.

Trimming the tree together had felt intimate, the start of something new. Ethan was more than happy to leave the decoration planning to her, telling her he was the brawn to her brain in this scenario.

As Cassie decorated the tree, she shared memories of childhood Christmases and all the Valentine traditions she held dear.

When she asked him about Ramsey family traditions in an offhand manner, he went silent for a while. And then he met her gaze, his blue eyes serious.

“I never had any special tradition for the holidays while growing up.”

“So, how about we start our own?” Cassie said, taking his hand to interlock their fingers.

“Like what?” He cocked an eyebrow, doubt coloring his voice. “I’m not a child to be indulged, Cassie.”

“Traditions have nothing to do with childhood and everything to do with how they make you feel,” she told him with great authority. “On this, I’m an expert. So, trust me?”

Cassie still remembered how they brainstormed ideas, using the whiteboard in his home office to jot down a list, very much like when they discussed differentials in a diagnostics team meeting.

They settled on decorating the tree, followed by hot cocoa—with marshmallows and whipped cream for her—and cuddling on the couch in front of the fireplace. It was simple and lowkey, but it suited both of them.

Returning to the present, Cassie joined Ethan in hanging the last two ornaments. She wanted some part of trimming the tree this year, even if it was something small. He took the star topper from her hand and stretched his arm to place it at the top of the tree.

She stepped back to admire Ethan’s work and nodded in appreciation. “Gold star, babe.”

Later, she sipped her hot cocoa and nestled against Ethan’s side, watching the flames in the fireplace crackle. She smiled when Ethan folded her in his arms, his lips brushing against the side of her forehead.

In a few weeks, their girls would be here, and everything would change again, Cassie thought.

This tradition had served them well. But in a few years, they would create new ones with their children. Maybe the girls would enjoy having their own Twin Tree to decorate. Or perhaps they would choose something else.

The best thing about traditions was not what was but what could be. And Cassie couldn’t wait to see what the future would bring.

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

All Fics & Edits: @a-crepusculo @annfg8 @bex-la-get @bluebelle08 @cariantha @choicesaddict5 @coffeeheartaddict2 @crazy-loca-blog @doriopenheart @genevievemd @headoverheelsforramsey @lucy-268 @jamespotterthefirst @jerzwriter @mysticalgalaxysstuff @openheartforeverinmyheart @peonierose @takemyopenheart @potionsprefect @queencarb @quixoticdreamer16 @rookiemartin @trappedinfanfiction @vi-writes-stuff @zahrachoices

Submissions: @openheartfanfics

Ethan & Cassie only: @custaroonie @lady-calypso @hopelessromantic1352

#open heart #open heart choices #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #choices fic writers creations #cfwc holidays 2022 #open heart fanfics #choices fanfics #open heart fanfiction #writers on tumblr #christmas fic #ethan ramsey x cassie valentine #ethan x mc

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emotionalcadaver · 8 months

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Part 13: Dance of Darkness

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Grace Burgess x OC

Summary: Tommy and Lucy receive a letter, Arthur makes a disastrous mistake, Polly takes some news regarding her long lost children badly, and the Garrison reopens.

Word Count: 4,491

Notes: Warnings for depictions of violence, blood, PTSD, drug use, and references to sexual content and a foursome.

Masterlists: Main • Series • Fic

Previous Part • Next Part

Chapter 5: The Ache

They watched Ada walk away from them, the key that Tommy had just given her to a new house clutched in her hand. Taking off in the opposite direction, Lucy let him wrap his arm around her shoulders, attempting to look as though he were simply holding her close and not leaning on her for stability.

“Ribs starting to hurt?”

“Yeah,” he grimaced. She glanced back over her should in the direction Ada had disappeared in.

“You really think she’ll take it?”

“I do,” he coughed, roughly.

“Well, at least it’ll be one last thing to worry about,” she gave his arm a squeeze. “By the way, Esme came to talk to me about something the other day. Something interesting.”

“Did she now?”

“Mhm. It’s got to do with Polly.”

“I’m all ears.”

∗ ∗ ∗

“She’s late,” Tommy grumbled, leaning against a table.

“Probably is having trouble holding her head up,” Lucy mumbled. Tommy gave her a stern look that was only half serious. “Sorry. I’ll be nice.”

He chuckled, adjusting his positioning. “You sure that you don’t want to come with us to the new house?”

“Nah,” she twirled her pen. “I think that it’ll be enough of a birthday present for her if I’m not there,” she stood, gathering up her papers to take to one of the offices. “But you boys have fun, yeah? I’ll keep watch here. Make sure everyone behaves while you’re out.”

“Thanks.”

“Are you going to tell her about the other thing?” she asked, giving Tommy a knowing look.

“I am.”

“Mm. Make sure you have a handkerchief or something. She might start crying on you.”

He snorted. “I will.”

The door to the betting shop creaked, the lively chattering around them ceasing as everyone started to clap. Polly, big eyed, glanced around as she skidded to a stop from rushing inside, staring as everyone surrounding her started to clap. Tommy pushed his way past the group, bringing his hands together and smiling as Polly’s gaze fell on him.

Lucy watched them, lips pulled up in an expression that couldn’t quite be considered a smile. Polly had been even more unpleasant to be around than normal lately. Perhaps this would help to put her in a more tolerable mood.

Ducking past the celebrators, she slipped away from the crowd, silently and unnoticed.

∗ ∗ ∗

“Hullo, Elizabeth,” Lucy crooned, bursting through the doors to the office, smiling at Lizzie who was seated behind one of the desks.

“Hi, Lucy,” she said, glancing up only briefly from a note she was scribbling on a scrap of paper.

“You settling in alright?”

She set down the pen. “Yeah, actually.”

Lucy nodded. “Good. Let me know if you need anything.”

“Yes, boss.”

She chuckled, opening the doors to the big office. “It’s been a real help, having you here,” she paused at the door. “And I like that. Keep calling me that.”

Lizzie snorted, waving a hand at her, smiling while shaking her head.

It was growing dark outside by the time Tommy got in, beginning to debrief with Lizzie as he pulled off his coat and hat.

“This came for you today,” Lizzie held out a letter. “It’s all the way from America, New York. Somewhere called Poughkeepsie.”

Lucy's head snapped up at the mention, standing from where she’d been sitting at the table in front of the fireplace in the big office. Grace.

Tommy held the letter gingerly, half like he was afraid it would burst into flames and half afraid it would disappear. Lucy rushed over to look over his shoulder, at the familiar, looping scrawl on the envelope. Tommy sighed, and tucked it into his inner pocket. There were a few more matters which Lizzie discussed with him, including payment for the decorators at the Garrison and putting an advertisement in for the pub’s reopening.

The final point of business was a letter that Tommy needed to send out to Mr. Churchill regarding Campbell. Lizzie prepared to write it down while Tommy dictated it to her, but froze in stunned wonderment at the mention of Churchill’s name. Tommy turned around, saw that she hadn’t written anything yet, and raised his brows.

“Is your pencil broken?”

Lucy giggled. Lizzie shook her head, eyes still wide. “No. No. Do go on,” her pencil started to scratch against the paper as she wrote. While he spoke, Tommy moved to sit in the chair behind the desk opposite from Lizzie’s. He reached one hand out to Lucy, and she snorted fondly, taking it and allowing him to pull her into sitting on his lap. There was really no point in trying to play coy when it was just them and Lizzie. She’d seen them both in far more compromising positions. He leaned back, hands folded over his stomach as he outlined his demands of Churchill in exchange for his work in an even, consistent rumble.

“You got all of that?” he asked Lizzie once he was done.

“Yes,” she glanced over the letter once, checking for grammatical errors.

“Good. Get that posted. Then you can go home for the day,” he gave Lucy’s thigh a small pat to indicate that he wanted to stand up. Jumping off of him, she headed back to the big office. Lizzie folded the letter in an envelope and began to gather up her coat.

“Have a good night then, you two.”

“Good night, Lizzie,” Lucy called over her shoulder to her. “So,” she said, once Lizzie was gone, the door swung shut behind her. “How was Polly? She like her new house?”

“I think so,” Tommy went to the table of booze, pouring two glasses of whiskey and handing her one.

“And what did she say when you told her you plan to track down her long lost children and bring them home?”

“Not much,” he took a sip from his glass. “She teared up, a bit. I think she was in shock.”

Sitting down, Lucy swirled the amber liquid in her glass before taking a gulp. “This might not be an easy road for her, Tom. Even if we can find both of her children, and they’re still alive, they’ll be practically adults by now. They’ll have built lives, made relationships…it’s possible that they won’t even want to see her.”

“I know,” he sighed, deeply. “But at least then she’ll know that they’re both all right.”

“So long as she doesn’t try to kidnap them from their adopted homes,” Lucy cocked her head. “She isn’t doing well, Tom. Esme told me that when she tried to tell her that a seance she attended was a trick, Polly slammed her up against a wall and pulled a knife on her,” her index finger and her thumb rubbed together anxiously. “Just be careful.”

He sat down beside her with a deep, heavy sigh, rubbing at his eyes. “I will.”

Reaching out, she cupped his face, thumb stroking over the scab on his chin. “How’s the ribs?”

“Better. Still ache, if I stand for too long.”

“Try not to overdo it.”

“Mm,” one of his hands found her waist. “Come here.”

“I don’t think that this will be very good for your ribs,” she laughed, even as she let him coax her back into his lap again.

“Don’t care. C’mere.”

Giggling, she let him pull her close, until she was resting warmly up against his chest.

∗ ∗ ∗

One of Polly’s children was dead. Glancing through the files they’d stacked on Tommy’s desk, Lucy raised a fist to her lips, frowning as she looked over the papers.

“She’s going to be devastated,” she commented. Of the two, Polly had always seemed to have particular proclivity towards her daughter.

“Her son’s still alive. Michael Gray, now goes by Henry Johnson,” Tommy was running his index finger down the file he had propped up in his lap. “He lives with his adopted parents in England.”

“He’ll be of age soon, right?”

“Mhm.”

Lucy closed the file on Polly’s daughter, leaning back in her chair. “You’re thinking of going to go see him?”

“Just to extend the invitation to come visit his mother if he likes.”

“And if he says no?”

Tommy shrugged. “That’s his decision.”

“You want me to come?”

“Better not. I don’t want to overwhelm him.”

“Yeah, probably a good plan. Hopefully his mother won’t try to maul you.”

Tommy chuckled. “I think I can manage.”

∗ ∗ ∗

“What the fuck happened?” she demanded, standing over the body in the boxing ring. She spun around to stare at Finn and Isiah. “Eh?” she strode towards them with long, steady strides. “What happened?”

“Arthur just–he just–” Isiah stammered. Under other circumstances, she would have been sympathetic to the boy. He didn’t want to say anything bad about one of the Shelbys, for fear of what would become of his eyes if he did.

With a growl, Lucy snapped her fingers. “You,” she pointed, “get this body out of here. Take him to the morgue,” the men started to move. “Where the fuck is Arthur?”

“They took him back home,” Finn piped up.

“Ah, he’s learned to speak,” Lucy snarled, moving to stand in front of Finn, glaring down at him. “Can any of you tell me why no one was supervising Arthur’s fight?” she asked, beginning to pace back and forth.

“We were observing Finn and Isiah, Miss. Winters,” one of the men said.

“All of you?”

He looked down. “Yes, Miss. Winters.”

She shook her head. Idiots, the lot of them. It was really no surprise that a man was dead. “Right, which one of you is the man who runs these here rings?” she asked, one of the men that she’d had lined up against the far wall raised his hand. Lucy pulled a roll of bills from her coat and shoved them into his palm. “This never happened,” her eyes darted to where they were carrying the boy’s body out the door, wrapped in white cloth. Rubbing a hand across her eyes, she pinched at the bridge of her nose, headache building. “All of you get out. Now.”

The men practically scrambled and tripped over each other in their haste towards the door.

“Lucy… what’s going to happen?” Finn asked in a small voice. She raised her head.

“What’s going to happen, is that you and Isiah are going to go back to the betting shop, and you are going to wait in Tommy’s office. Your brother is returning from an errand this afternoon, and I’m going to tell him what’s happened. And then he’s going to come and speak to you. Understood?”

Both boys nodded. Lucy jerked her head.

“Go on. If you aren’t there when he comes to talk to you, you’ll have to deal with me.”

They scampered off. Lucy stood alone in the boxing ring, hands on her hips, staring at the blood stain on the floor. She shook her head.

“Goddammit, Arthur,” the door slammed as she pushed it open with both hands, storming outside and to the garage to wait for Tommy to return with the car from his visit to Michael. She wasn’t left waiting very long. The car pulled into its space in a fluid turn, engine dying as Tommy shut it off and stepped out.

“What’s happened?” he must have seen the look on her face the moment he stepped out of the car. Lucy sighed, arms crossed over her chest, fingers curling around her cigarette as she leaned heavily against a stack of crates.

“Arthur killed a boy in the boxing ring today.”

“He what?”

She nodded. “Beat him to death with his own fists. Finn and Isiah were there, sparring, they saw what happened but have clammed up. I’ve already spoken with the owner of the ring and the rest of the boys that were there.”

“Who was the boy?”

“No one, really. Just a local kid who got in the ring with the wrong person. Arthur’s at home. I haven’t checked on him yet,” she hesitated, “Tom, you really should see the body.”

Tommy rubbed his eyes furiously, cursing colorfully under his breath before lifting his head. “Is he at the morgue?”

“Just had him sent there.”

“Show me.”

∗ ∗ ∗

Tommy listened to Finn and Isiah’s stories, eyes narrowed. Lucy was leaned up against the furthest wall from the door, smoking and watching the two boys with analyzing green eyes. Even once in a while, she scoffed at something one of the boys said, tapping out the ash from her cigarette and shaking her head.

“Right, listen to me,” he gestured between them. “That’s two fucking stories,” he pointed at Finn. “Your brother killed a boy. There were witnesses, there will be questions, get your stories straight, it was an accident. Fuck off,” at his order, both boys stood to leave. “Oh, and the next time that Lucy asks you a fucking question, you answer it,” he snapped before Finn could open the door. “You hear me?”

“Yes, sir,” both mumbled, exiting the office at a shuffle.

“I appreciate that,” Lucy said, handing him her cigarette for a hit, running a hand through her hair. “Ready to deal with Arthur?”

“Fucking hell,” he groaned, passing the cigarette back to her. “Where is he?”

“Sitting room.”

Wiping a hand over his face, he grimaced. “I need to speak to him alone.”

“Okay. I’ll head back to the other office. Get things ready for when Polly comes over.”

“Thank you.”

She pecked a kiss to his cheek. “Be careful.”

“I will.”

He watched her go mournfully, wishing that he could keep her close. To help anchor him for this next confrontation. But Arthur was more likely to speak to him openly if it was just the two of them.

He squeezed his eyes shut. He wanted to scream. To throw something. Always having to pick up their messes. Their fuck ups. All the time. And not just Arthur’s. Polly, with her moping about and pulling knives on his sister in law, John and Esme with their constant complaints…and yet they refused to take his offers to leave. To go off to the country and raise their fucking chickens. No, instead they continued to stay, to take the money he made for them while whining the entire bloody time about how he made it.

Did they all really think that he was any less fucked up in the head than any of them? Did they not think that some days it took all his willpower to keep himself standing upright, to force himself forward. But he fucking did it. He did it without complaint, because the rest of them were so damn busy wallowing and moping and complaining and having fucking meltdowns every few seconds that he had to. He had no choice. If he fell apart, it would all come crashing down. And they would have nothing. So was it really all too much to ask that his family pull themselves together enough to not murder innocent boys who’d done nothing wrong?

They all continued to wonder why Lucy was the one he leaned on the most. The one he told everything to. Well, maybe it was because Lucy was the one who had proven herself time and time again to be the only fucking competent person besides himself in the entire goddamn company.

∗ ∗ ∗

“Tommy?” Lucy asked, glancing upwards as a few flakes of splintered wood drifted down onto her papers.

He only grunted in response.

“Why is there a hole in the ceiling?”

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Because Polly wanted me to know just how badly she wished that she could have shot me.”

“Oh,” she brushed the dustings of wood off the papers on his desk. “She didn’t take the news about her daughter well?”

“Oh, no. That she actually responded quite alright to,” he shifted in his chair. “It was Michael that she took more issue with.”

“You decided not to tell her where he is?”

“Yeah,” he thumbed a cigarette from his case. “Then she pulled the gun on me.”

“Well…the invitation to Michael had been extended. If he wants to get to know her, he can make that choice for himself.”

“Mhm,” Tommy was staring at the window. The blinds were half shut, leaving the sun to filter into the office hazily. Lucy looked him up and down worriedly. He had been grumpy and broody since his chat with Arthur. And this added encounter with Polly would only make his internal misery even worse. Standing from her seat across from him, she walked around the desk, pushing on the arm of his chair so that he was turned to face her. Running her hands up his neck, feeling the prickles of the shaved parts of his hair, she cradled the back of his head, drawing his face in until it was pressed to her chest. She felt him sigh and wrap his arms around her waist, body growing heavier as he leaned against her more firmly.

∗ ∗ ∗

“Oh, I love it,” Lucy said, glancing around the deep golds and reds that adorned the inside of the refurbished Garrison.

“That’s because it’s mostly red,” Tommy chuckled. She squeezed his arm that she had her hands looped through.

“It’s my color, I can’t help it. People will be arriving soon?”

“Yeah.”

She glanced at him. He’d been quiet since the incident with Polly in the office. She patted his arm. “Polly will get over it.”

“I’m afraid that you have more confidence than I do.”

“Please,” she snorted. “If the kid shows up on his own, all will be forgiven. If he doesn’t, she’ll pout for a little bit, but she’ll see that you were right, eventually,” she sighed. “The best thing you can do to ensure that boy and his family’s safety is to keep her away until he’s sure that he wants a relationship with her.”

“Mm,” he just hummed, and she rubbed his arm again, snuggling her cheek into his bicep. Poor Tommy. “I told Finn to go get Arthur.”

“Oh. That’s nice. He ought to be here.”

“Yeah.”

The moment that it had fully gotten dark, people began to come in waves, bursting through the front doors, crowding around the bar. Tommy got them both whiskeys, and she hovered close to him, using him as a human shield against the bulk of the crowd.

It was almost impossible not to notice it when Arthur arrived, voice booming as he slipped behind the bar, movements manic while he served people.

“Sweet Jesus, what did Finn give him?” she said into Tommy’s ear. He just grinned at her, expression bordering on mischievous.

“I’ll be right back.”

She eyed him suspiciously, but nodded. “All right,” she sipped her whiskey as she watched him slip behind the bar to talk with Arthur, clapping him on the shoulder before exiting the bar and making his way back over to her, nodding and mumbling greetings to patrons as he passed. He stopped when he caught sight of Finn at a table with John.

“Finn, give me that,” he held out a hand, snatching the glass of booze from his youngest brother’s hand. “Keep him off the whiskey, John.”

John just ruffled at Finn’s hair. Tommy came the rest of the way over to her, turning with his shoulder brushing against hers to look out over the pub.

“Business is good,” she commented. He hummed.

“What do you think of the music?”

“It’s alright,” she flinched as a glass broke somewhere. “Getting a bit loud, though.”

“Come on,” taking her hand, Tommy pulled her through the entryway into the vacant room behind them, also lined with tables and chairs, but not being used at the moment. It was dark and quiet. They sat down at one of the tables, Tommy leaning over the ashtray as he smoked, then stubbed his cigarette out. Lucy watched his face carefully, recognizing the look that crossed his features, eyes distant. He reached into his pocket, pulling out the envelope still seated there. They both stared at the stamps; the handwriting.

“I wonder what she would have thought of it,” Lucy said quietly. “The pub.”

“Hm,” his thumb circled against the envelope. “Do you want to read it?”

Lucy looked at the letter, felt the sting of the betrayal. The longing. The vacantness of the hole that Grace had left after her departure. “No,” she couldn’t see much good that reading the letter could achieve. Tommy nodded, and pulled out his matchbook, lighting a match with a snap, holding it to the edge of the envelope until it caught ablaze. He held onto it until the flames licked up to almost kiss his fingertips, and then he let it drop into the ashtray. Lucy let out a shuddering breath, shooting her chair closer to his until their sides pressed into one another, her head laying on his shoulder with her arms around him. Tommy’s face fell forward, placing a few kisses onto her arms.

A door opened, and they startled apart, looking up to find Polly staggering through the door. Tommy stood, chair squealing against the floor. The look Polly gave him was stony, lips pursed.

“Pol?” Tommy tried, but she just stalked past them both and into the main area where the party was being held. Lucy stood with a sigh, hand settling on Tommy’s shoulder.

“How about another drink?” she asked. He nodded, slowly. “I’ll get it,” she ducked back into the main area, shouldering her way past the crowd around the bar to snag two drinks from Arthur. It was only upon glancing at the entrance to the pub that she spotted Ada, holding Karl in her arms, lips parted in a smile as she took in the sight of the newly refurbished Garrison. Lucy hustled back to the backroom to find Tommy brooding by one of the paintings. “Ada’s here,” she handed him his glass.

“Thanks,” clinking his glass with hers, they both downed them in one gulp.

“Back to it?”

“Yeah.”

She followed him towards the front entrance, where Ada was already conversing with a swaying, slightly slurring Polly.

“You go on ahead. I’ll get us some more drinks,” she said in his ear. Tommy nodded, shoving through the crowd towards them. Lucy watched the encounter as she waited by the bar. As soon as Tommy came over, Polly looked to cut herself off mid-sentence to Ada, spinning on her heel and walking away. But Ada greeted him warmly enough, taking the fancy looking drink that he offered her. They began to walk more towards the center of the room as they talked, John sweeping over to greet Ada before heading to the bar to chat with Arthur.

Grabbing the drinks from the bar, Lucy made her way over to them, handing a glass to Tommy.

“Hullo, Ada,” she said.

“Hi, Lucy,” Ada smiled. Lucy blinked, taken aback at the rather warm greeting. Ada turned back to Tommy, suddenly more serious.

“So what do you want me to say to her?”

“Just talk to her. No one can get through to her. Tell her I had no choice.”

Ada gave a little nod.

“I appreciate this,” Tommy added. Ada whisked across the pub, pausing only briefly to hug Arthur in greeting before making her way over to Polly, who was swaying to herself as she leaned against the bar. Lucy lit a cigarette while Tommy rested his shoulder against a gold column, both of them trying not to be too obvious in their attempts to watch how the conversation went. It didn’t look to go over very well. Polly spoke to Ada, all the while still swaying like an idiot, shooting only one hateful look in Tommy’s direction before throwing her arms around Ada, kissing her wetly on the cheek. And then Polly was striding over to a group of young men, shaking off Ada’s attempts to stop her, speaking in obviously flirtatious tones before pulling one of the men with her to dance. Tommy grunted, and dropped into a chair.

“That poor boy,” Lucy shook her head.

“Not even Ada can get through to her,” he remarked, miserably. Lucy patted his hand.

“I think that we just have to let her ride this one out on her own, love.”

∗ ∗ ∗

Tommy laid in the middle of the bed, one arm wrapped around the shoulders of the woman half laying on his chest, the other raised up to rest above his head. There was another girl asleep with her head facing the foot of the bed, lying diagonally across it. The blankets had been pulled away sometime in the night to expose her bare breast. Nestled in his side with her head resting just below his armpit, Lucy stirred, nosing up against his ribs before she settled again. Eyes fixed on the ceiling, he fought to keep his mind from spinning out of control, thoughts and worries and memories and more thoughts…

Sitting up suddenly, he moved carefully in an attempt not to disturb the other women in the bed with him. But, almost inevitably, as he slipped out from beside her, Lucy’s eyes blinked open, watching him lazily as he pulled his shorts on.

“Sorry. Go back to sleep, love,” he kissed her cheek, and her eyes drifted closed again. Going to the small desk in front of the window, he pulled upright the chair that had been knocked over in all the excitement the previous night, grabbing the book sitting atop the desk and flipping through it. He flinched as he set it down harder than intended, rubbing at his face and lighting a cigarette. He pulled the book back into his lap, sniffing and leaning back, legs crossed, rubbing his eyes and resigning himself to focus on the words and numbers scrawled on the page.

From the bed, there was shifting, as Lucy sat up, the blankets pooling around her waist, exposing her naked breasts to the air, the pale scars that marked her torso illuminated by the sunlight streaming in through the curtain. Shoving the blankets aside, she snatched up his shirt where it was tossed to the floor. She was tiny enough that it fit her more like a nightgown than a shirt, hanging to about her mid-thigh.

“I told you to go back to sleep,” he murmured quietly, even as he uncrossed his legs so she could settle herself in his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her face in his shoulder.

“Not warm enough without you,” she mumbled, hot breath tickling his skin. Tommy hummed, wrapping one arm around her while the other balanced the book.

They stayed positioned like that, warm and in comfortable silence, until the sun had risen high into the sky.

Thank you for reading! Please consider leaving a comment, reblog, or like. I always appreciate feedback and love getting the opportunity to interact with you and hear your thoughts!

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Masterlists: Main • Series • Fic

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby x oc #lucy winters #peaky blinders #my ocs #my fanfiction #grace burgess #grace burgess x oc #tommy shelby x grace burgess x oc #lucy winters x tommy shelby x grace burgess #dance of darkness #lucy winters x tommy shelby #lucy winters x grace burgess #not an update

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bethanydelleman · 1 year

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Asks about my OTPs

Pick your top 10 OTPs without reading the questions, then answer the questions after you've made your list (I will do my top 10 Austen OTPs)

Catherine Morland & Henry Tilney

Fanny Price & Henry Crawford

Elizabeth Bennet & Fitzwilliam Darcy

Harriet Smith & Robert Martin

Caroline Bingley & Sir Walter Elliot

Elinor Dashwood & Edward Ferrars

Marianne Dashwood & Colonel Brandon

Emma Woodhouse & Jane Fairfax

Eleanor Tilney & her laundry Viscount

Sir Walter & Himself

1. Do you remember the episode/scene/chapter that you first started shipping 6? – When Edward comes to Barton and makes fun of Marianne's love of dead trees.

2. Have you ever read a fanfic about 2? – Yes, my favourite is Fanny: A Mansfield Park Story by Amelia Marie Logan, and I've written severa, including one full length novel.

3. Has a picture of 4 ever been your screen saver/profile picture/tumblr screen saver? – Nope! Always my kids these days.

4. If 7 were to suddenly break up today, what would your reaction be? – This actually happens in FF quite a lot, people are always killing off Brandon early into the marriage and leaving Marianne with a baby. It makes me sad, let Brandon be happy! He's only 37 when they marry he probably has another 20 years at least! (Honestly, since Brandon has survived to his age, Marianne actually has a higher chance of passing away since she's the one making babies).

5. Why is 1 so important? – Because they are so uncomplicated and happy. Just two very cute people making a cute marriage and I would defend their ship to the ends of the earth.

6. Is 9 a funny ship or a serious ship? – Um, it's a whole joke that Austen didn't reveal a new character because the new viscount made a laundry list that Catherine found. But I love Eleanor so much that I do seriously want her to be happy.

7. Out of all the ships listed, which ship has the most chemistry? – Henry & Catherine, Harriet & Robert I think? I may be a bad judge of "chemistry".

8. Out of all your ships listed, which ship has the strongest bond? – Elinor & Edward, I'm always surprised how sure they are of the other's love in spite of of all the obstacles.

9. How many times have you read/watched the 10’s fandom? - I honestly don't know at this point, I read Persuasion once as a teenager and I didn't like it but I LOVED Sir Walter. I've watched all the adaptations (including 1971) and I've read/listened to the book multiple times now.

10. Which ship has lasted the longest? – Sir Walter & himself obviously, that's been going strong for 54 years. I hope it continues until his death at 93. All the others are new pairings.

11. How many times, if ever, has 6 broken up? – The only Austen couple to break up and get back together is Anne & Wentworth, so zero for Elinor & Edward.

12. If the world was suddenly thrust into a zombie apocalypse, which ship would make it out alive, 2 or 8? – Huh, Fanny & Henry or Emma & Jane? They both have a sickly member, which is not great for their odds... Emma is smart but often distracted which would be really bad but Jane is a devoted learner.... Henry would "improve" his estate with zombie moats... I'm voting for both Fanny and Emma don't make it and Henry Crawford & Jane Fairfax find their second true pairing together.

13. Did 7 ever have to hide their relationship for any reason? – Colonel Brandon is attempting to hide his regard out of respect for Marianne and that's why I love him so much.

14. Is 4 still together? – Yes, eating walnuts and petting "her" little cow. Man they are cute!

15. Is 10 canon? – Yep! Though a bunch of the others aren't

16. If all 10 ships were put into a couple’s Hunger Games, which couple would win? – I'm going to put my money on Colonel Brandon, who will do anything to save Marianne. He would be the Katniss and she is the Peeta.

17. Has anybody ever tried to sabotage 5’s ship? – Yes, Mr. Elliot has been trying to prevent Sir Walter from marrying again so he can inherit the baronetcy. He almost succeeds!

18. Which ship would you defend to the death and beyond? – Catherine Morland and Henry Tilney, they are the only couple I can't bring myself to break up in fan fiction.

19. Do you spend hours a day going through 3’s tumblr page? – Um, none? I end up seeing Elizabeth & Darcy stuff no matter what, I have tags on the lesser known Austen characters.

20. If an evil witch descended from the sky and told you that you had to pick one of the ten ships to break up forever or else she’d break them all forever, which ship would you sink? – That is hard because these are my favourite, but I guess Emma can marry boring Knightley instead of having a torrid enemies-to-lovers affair with Jane Fairfax...

I'm not big on chain letters. Thank you @firawren for the tag, if anyone wants to try go ahead!

#otp #jane austen #jane austen fan fiction #and before you yell at me about leaving off canon hero/heroine pairings #They aren't my favourite #I get to pick my own OTPs!#I ship Henry and Fanny starting at Ch 30 #I love elinor and edward #I'm not wild about some of the others #Henry tilney supremacy #Henry & Catherine make me die of cuteness

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youatemylollipop · 1 year

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A/N: Before proceeding, please take note that this is a requested matchup and the reader will have certain characteristics that may not necessarily match with your own. Such as: Gender, personality traits, sexuality, interests/hobbies etc.

Ft: Katsura Kotarō (Gintama).

Katsura Kotarō

➸ Katsura was running down the streets of Edo after yet another attack at some random facility—what else were you expecting from this guy?

➸ The man was severely injured and had at some point, without noticing, split up with Elizabeth. It was late in the evening and the streets were surprisingly empty. You had just ended your shift as an intern at the local hospital and were finally on your way home after a tiring day.

➸ You were just about to open the door to your apartment as you suddenly heard some noises coming from a nearby alley. Logically speaking, you were aware that going there was utterly stupid, not to mention very dangerous. However, the empathetic side of you, could not ignore the sounds that were coming from there.

➸ Normally, no one would willingly hang out near the dumpsters—especially at this hour—unless they were dumpster divers, of course. It could either be someone homeless—or simply had nowhere to go and was just temporarily homeless—or a person that might’ve gotten seriously injured. Then again, it could’ve also had been some animal.

➸ Rather than standing and pondering about the endless possibilities, you decided to have a quick look to satisfy your growing curiosity. And that’s when you met him: The infamous Katsura Kotarō.

➸ I’d like to believe that the two of you would most likely start off as friends. Both of you are laid-back, friendly and could be described as the mediators of your own group of friends.

➸ However, you can also become rather stubborn when the situation calls for it. You only decide to put your foot down if you deem the situation worthy of such actions. Otherwise you tend to be more on the neutral side. It’s because of this mutual understanding that the two of you would work so well together. At least from my perspective.

➸ Katsura himself is somebody who doesn’t easily make friends either, even if he doesn’t look like it. I guess that it might come with the absurdity of his nature, but also because he’s rather distant, no matter how friendly and extroverted he might seem to be.

➸ Katsura can also easily relate to your cynical side. The man, despite his sometimes rash actions, is very smart—on a philosophical level—and let’s not forget about the fact that he is the leader of a terrorist group. This means that he has to be able to read people well in order to know who is trustworthy enough to be recruited.

➸ Laziness is something that he simply views as an added charm. Nobody’s perfect and Katsura does not see this trait as a major flaw. As long as you’re good person at heart, that’s all that matters, and let me remind you that he’s been friends with Gintoki for years by now. If he’s able to deal with that slacker, then he should have no problems with literally anyone else.

➸ And regarding your procrastination tendencies. Something tells me that Katsura is a big procrastinator himself. I can only imagine the amount of times he’s planned to do something, only to put it away for later and in the end, noticing that Elizabeth’s already handled it.

➸ I believe that Katsura will start falling for you once he’ll realize what a sweet person you are. He had already known just how empathetic you were when you found him near the dumpsters that evening. But then he saw the way you were interacting with Elizabeth and practically melted at the sight. You were just so lovely.

➸ He swooned, however, the second he had found out what an amazing cook you were. This is due to his soft spot for housewives, which had confused him slightly at the beginning, since he was obviously aware that you were in fact not a housewife.

➸ He had only figured out what it was when he began picturing you as his wife. Because who wouldn’t love to have a sweet and kind wife that was also an extraordinary cook? That’s when he realized that he was truly whipped.

➸ One thing that the both of you have in common when it applies to interest, is cosplaying. We are all aware of the amount of times the man has been forced to disguise himself to avoid getting recognized.

➸ As strange as it might sound, your absolute favorite is to dress up as various animal characters due to your love for animals. An example could be Sonic the Hedgehog.

➸ Speaking of animals. Another reason that Katsura fell in love with you so shamelessly, was the first time he had witnessed you taking home an injured stray cat and then proceeded to take care of it practically the whole night without sleeping a wink.

➸ Katsura is also very supportive of your drawings, since he himself is a rather artistic soul. Though, his passion does not lie with drawing, but with poetry. And the amount of created poems had increased drastically ever since he had met you.

➸ Oh, and I had also forgot to mention that his confession had most likely been expressed through at least one of these poems. In other words: Katsura Kotarō had finally found his muse.

The black haired samurai limped down the dimly lit streets of Edo, wincing with each step. He had just narrowly escaped yet another attack on a government facility, but this time he wasn't sure if he had made it out unscathed. He turned to his loyal companion, Elizabeth, only to find that she was nowhere in sight.

"Elizabeth? Elizabeth, where are you?" Katsura called out, his voice hoarse.

He stumbled into a nearby alley, barely able to keep his balance. The pain was unbearable, and he knew he needed medical attention immediately. He collapsed on the ground, his eyes closing as he fought to stay conscious

Just then, he heard footsteps approaching. He opened his eyes to see a young woman, presumably a nurse or doctor, standing over him. She looked down at him with concern in her eyes.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

Katsura tried to speak, but his voice came out as a whisper. The woman leaned in closer to hear him.

"I...I need help. Can you...please help me?"

Without hesitation, the woman helped Katsura to his feet and supported him as they made their way to her apartment. Once they arrived, she quickly tended to his injuries and made him comfortable.

"Thank you for helping me," Katsura said, his voice still weak.

"It's no problem," the woman replied with a smile. "It's what I do."

As the night wore on, Katsura and the woman talked and laughed together, their personalities meshing perfectly. They found they had a lot in common, from their laid-back attitudes to their love for cosplay. Katsura was surprised to find that he had never met anyone quite like her.

As the sun began to rise, Katsura knew he had to leave. But before he did, he turned to the woman and said, "I know we just met, but...would you like to go out sometime?"

The woman's eyes widened in surprise, but then she smiled. "I would love to," she said.

And so, Katsura and the woman began their relationship as friends. They spent their time exploring Edo together, attending cosplay events, and bonding over their shared love for animals.

One day, the woman brought home an injured cat she had found on the street. Katsura watched as she tended to the animal with care and tenderness, her love for animals shining through.

"You're amazing," Katsura said, a smile on his face.

The woman blushed. "It's nothing," she said.

But to Katsura, it was everything. He had never met anyone quite like her before. As their relationship continued to grow, Katsura found himself falling for her more and more with each passing day.

And then, one day, he knew it was time. He sat down and wrote a poem, pouring his heart out onto the paper. He recited it to the woman, his voice filled with emotion.

"You're my muse," he said. "You inspire me in ways I never thought possible. I love you."

The woman's eyes filled with tears as she threw her arms around Katsura. "I love you too," she said.

From that day on, Katsura and the woman were inseparable. They continued to explore Edo together, their love for each other growing stronger with each passing day. And Katsura knew that he had found his muse, his partner in life.

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asterjennifer · 2 years

Text

@qruinee on Instagram

Memories

Fandom: Mystic Messenger

Pairing: Jumin & V (x Reader)

Category: Fluff (light angst)

Warnings: X

Word count: 1600

Author's Note: Happy Birthday Jumin!! Hope you celebrate well 🥂🥳

Summary: After a day spend with only the two of you; neither of you expected the surprise guest knocking at your door.

But it's a good surprise, to say at least.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For a long moment silence dominated the air in his villa; until he sighed out the obvious tension that's standing in front of his door. “It's been two years and four months ago since we last stood here together.”

Jumin's tone would've been considered deadpan if it weren't for the fact his old best friend was the one knocking at the door. V didn't need to investigate to understand where the slight shift in his voice came from. It only seemed logical and above all, fair in his minty eyes. He scratched his neck after finding the face of yours peeking behind Jumin's back in curiosity.

“I'm aware of that..” The photographer tried to clear his throat, but unfortunately failed due to pressure from outside. “I'm sorry for that. However I um, I figured..”

V raised the package behind his back, catching both the your and the CEO's attention. “To say Happy Birthday in person is only justified.” You gasped softly considering you hadn't expected this kind of outcome fort these two childhood friends.

Jumin eyed the package, his shoulders slacking down just an inch. “I see.” You figured he's thinking about the situation, what it could turn out to become when considering every possible path. Typical Jumin, it sent a smile to your lips.

“Oh, rude of me to space out right about now. Come in, V.” He made space for his old friend and you thanked the heavens your lover didn't reject the offer the photographer put in. “Thank you.”

“Also, hello (N). It's nice to see you again.” V's voice lingered softly in your ears and you couldn't help but feel yourself warm up despite the doubts he'd caused inside the RFA.

Therefore, you reached out your hand. “Pleasure is mine, V. Welcome and thank you for showing up today.” A bit shocked by your polite greeting; V accepted your hand regardless. His handshake just as soulful as his personality, you registered somewhere in the back of your head.

The man wearing minty hair turned back to his old friend; a shy expression covering his face right away. “I'm not disturbing you both, right? I can come later if it is inconvenient.” However, Jumin only passed him while waving his hand.

“Not at all, follow me.” You smiled apologetic at V, following your fiance and soon all three of you entered his bedroom which's also technically the living room if thinking about it. Jumin let you both sit down across from each other before pulling the phone out of his pocket.

The call went fast; ordering their favorite wines and your preferred drink at the kitchen on the second floor. V brushed one hand over the box, the sudden purring beside him completely unexpected. It startled him, which you couldn't point out, otherwise you'd started giggling. Elizabeth the 3rd's big, blue doe-eyes stared up in something similar to amazement.

“Actually, I'm quite shocked you came here in person. I'm honest; I didn't have any expectations regarding your presence.” It surely felt harsh in your chest; not to mention V's. Yet it's no wrong wording because that was the naked truth Jumin liked to speak his thoughts with.

V closed his eyes in defeat, lifting his head as Elizabeth demanded pats by the loud meow coming from her throat. She then laid down beside the photographer on the couch, curled up in a white fluff ball.

“I know that. And I'm sorry for being gone so much.. But I would've never forgotten your birthday, Jumin.” The confidence wavered as the CEO sat down next to you, right in front of his friend. They exchanged a look you couldn't categorize before your fiance sighed once again.

The knock on the door interrupted the moment; wine and your drink being delivered by a well-groomed man doing his job perfectly. You and V thanked him, whereupon Jumin joined in and earend an almost bewildered expression of his staff member. You could tell by the glitter in his otherwise dark eyes that the gesture amused him some more than suspected.

V took the glass carefully, scanning the room for a second. “It's just like I remember. Tidy and minimalistic.. And that for a man like you, it's funny to say at least.” He huffed, making you snicker in response.

Jumin turned his wine when crossing his legs. The arm on the armrest of the sofa close to hug you instead. “I don't need much, would be a waste of money and space for Elizabeth to use.”

“Right, she gets a lot of free space because of that, you really think of everything.” V answered and thankfully the air loosened up some more.

While Jumin took his first sip, V put down the glas to get the package between his hands. “Also, this is my gift for you this year. I hope you like it.” Your smile widened; as if you're the one receiving it.

Jumin hummed deep, unconsciously sending a shiver down your spine by the noise. “I have everything I want or can think of; a gift really wasn't necessary.” V wiggled the box slightly from left to right by that. “When is it ever necessary.. It's the gesture that counts. So, as every year, I ask you to accept it either way.”

Knowing there's no winning, Jumin placed the wine down to take the covered package into his own hands. “If you insist, I will not refuse my friend's wish.” You hid the grin behind the back of your hand, which Jumin noticed.

To your luck he didn't comment it and dedicated his movements to unwrap the paper in torturing pace, he even folded it and that's when you knew you're getting married to a little psychopath. But that's only a passing thought given your anticipation grew with the second; wondering what exactly V could've bought for his old friend that he didn't own yet.

Nothing particular came to your mind, not even the cat on the other couch made a sound that could stir your imagination. No time registering, Jumin took away the last piece of wrapping paper to reveal a white box without writing on it. You and him both looked up to V at the same second.

Who, a bit embarrassed to have all eyes on him out of the blue, nodded quickly to confirm for Jumin to open the box. After he took off the lid, the shape intake of air on your part forced out unintentional. Yet the view of the gift blessed your eyes right away. It's a painted photo book.

“Whoa..! That is so pretty!” The words left you breathless. It seemed to be a normal folder at first, the brush strokes with all the complementary colors spoke a different language.

Jumin blinked, face as straight as ever when opening up the first page. It's pictures of only him and V; presumably before kindergarten, or in the middle of it by the latest. Your eyes began to sparkle by the photos you haven't yet had the privilege to find. After a few seconds, Jumin turned the page again.

It's like a film in some distant sense. The upcoming page showed the two friends growing up together in the most different scenarios. Captured while singing at the chores, eating a meal at the restaurant, playing outside and so many moments you couldn't memorize in the short amount of time.

Coming to the end, the photos changed in their context. The RFA members in their various moments, always with Jumin or at least him being in the photo. The highlight was your proposal that Yoosung had managed to take a photo of in his usual clumsily manner.

You exhaled amazed. “My Goodness..” You shook your head, seeking V and his red shaded face. “This is the most beautiful gift I've ever seen!” Your enthusiasm helped him relax in his position.

Jumin put the album up, still silent as he turned it into every possible direction and seemingly checking out everything that there was. V fumbled with his fingers; clearing his throat. “If you don't like it.. I can take it with home again and get you something less... emotional.”

Your mouth formed a surprised 'o' by that word, however there wasn't any lie. Again. Jumin closed his eyes while some black strands of hair fell over his forehead. For a brief second your heart slipped into your pants; fearing this photo album hit a nerve somewhere deep down inside.

“Not needed. It's amazing, V.” The wamrth of it had you let out the breath you didn't know you'd been holding. V also smiled, like he expected that reaction nonetheless.

Jumin standing up got you both to question; but as he held out his hand, V apparently knew exactly what the other wished for. You then witnessed them both stand up for nothing else but a good old, classical hug. Jumin pulled V and they both put a hand on the other's back.

V let his rest on the shoulder of the CEO for some more time after pulling away. “Thank you for being my friend, Jumin. Happy birthday.”

The black-haired man cracked a little smile. “It's not the easiest time, but I couldn't deny that right now.. I would consider myself happy. So thank you for showing up today, V.” He admitted openly, making V's eyes glitter from your angle.

“Hey, it's nothing. Thank you for bearing with me all this time. You're an amazing friend and a great man.. I don't deserve you, but I'm still just grateful to have you at my side.”

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