#who would have thought that the indifference from her mother would become a major part of how minthe treats everyone else
i saw that review on letterboxd of all the rhetorical questions for barbie and like… the more i think abt it, the more i’m certain that the review’s author fundamentally misunderstood the film. barbie land is not a utopia in the way that adults would think abt a utopia, like the author seems to imply… barbie land is canonically shaped by little girls playing with their dolls. that’s why we see a supreme court. thats why there are nobel prizes and authors and lawyers (also because that’s how the toys are marketed… would there be a mermaid in ur utopia??? there would be in mine!). that’s why barbie and ken don’t necessarily know what a boyfriend and girlfriend are “meant” to do (not to mention that the author’s assumption that sex is fundamental to a romantic relationship is problematic at best). that’s why barbie is indifferent to ken (i personally had the life size barbie and my sister had the barbie dream house—we had the working woman barbie game, i had the genie barbie gameboy game, we had countless barbie dolls; we didn’t own a single ken doll lol). barbie land is a world created by and for little girls as they play with their dolls (she says in a comment on the original post “don’t little girls play with their dolls in a sexual way?” and yeah, sure, some do. but i didn’t and i’m sure there are others who didn’t… just like there are some girls who completely mutilated their own dolls and made them into horrifying creatures)… that’s why stereotypical barbie starts having an existential crisis—because a grown woman begins to play with her doll again and starts reshaping barbie land… we, as the audience, are meant to understand this as an outlier to how barbie land is canonically created. the author also calls ken “crass” and “slovenly”… maybe after he builds the patriarchy in barbie land he becomes “crass” but i wouldn’t call him slovenly at any point in the film (i suppose this is just semantics tho).
also, please stop saying that barbie land is a reversal of the real world. it isn’t, even if that may have been the filmmakers intentions. again, barbie is indifferent to ken. she does not abuse him, she does not treat him like he exists to service her by cooking or cleaning or providing other favors for her… barbie does not oppress ken in the way that men oppress women in the real world (we have no idea if he owns property or where he lives and she doesn’t seem to particularly care—extremely different from the fact that women couldn’t have their own bank accounts or credit cards, get a mortgage on their own or divorce their husbands through no fault divorce until the second half of the 20th century in the us… within a lot of our mothers and grandmothers lifetimes!!!!) and it is a complete disservice to conflate or equate the two. we actually see barbie drawing clear boundaries around her time and space in regards to ken—this is not a reversal of misogyny as women and girls experience it in the real world, by any stretch of the imagination.
is the film perfect or revolutionary or radical? of course not. it was produced by major studios and corporations in hollywood. of course the barbie movie is a fucking commercial for barbie, like… to expect anything different is just extremely dumb on your part if u saw the trailer, saw the marketing, saw the interviews, bought a ticket, and sat ur ass in the theater, like be fuckin serious. but don’t do women and girls a disservice by discrediting the world and thoughts and ideas it could open up for them by seeing themselves be taken seriously on screen in a major summer blockbuster with stupid fucking questions because u want to feel superior to everyone else because YOU and ONLY YOU see through the capitalist marketing of lipstick pop girlboss feminism (especially when juxtaposed with the way the female characters are treated in oppenheimer, which we cannot help but compare to the barbie film with the viral marketing of barbenheimer).
49 notes
·
View notes
This is another OC of mine! A pure-blooded Saiyan who used to live on Planet Vegeta before it was destroyed (this is probs the only Saiyan OC I'll ever make pfff). Her name is Sera, taken from "celery" (celery ➤ cel ➤ ser ➤ sera). In the Saiyan Saga, she's in her 40s - and in her 50s post Buu Saga.
She was a part of Vegeta's original squad, alongside Nappa and Raditz. Power-wise, she was slightly stronger than Nappa but still weaker than Vegeta.
Personality-wise, Sera is rough around the edges. She had no qualms doing the planet purging thing (having the “the strong survive and the weak don’t” mindset), and is relatively indifferent in nature overall. Generally passive, and doesn't have much of a temper. She's also not much of a talker. She was NOT the "mom friend" of the group. All of the men irritated her, and she never tried to stop Raditz being bullied by the other two because she just didn't care.
Something that does set her a part from the majority of her kin though, is that she also never cared much for conquering planets. Ever since she was young, Sera thought it was all...pointless? And kind of stupid. Before the Cold Force forcibly "recruited" them, the Saiyans made their living by basically stealing from other planets and killing whatever inhabitants that were on them. Rather than do what they can for their own kind on their own planet, they were war-mongering instead. To her, it painted the Saiyans as being a little...pathetic in a way.
It also doesn't help that she's actually Vegeta's half-sister, sharing King Vegeta as a father. The king never cared about her or her mother, while leading their people in such a distasteful way. It's no wonder Sera has some ill-feelings towards royalty, which did still extend to Vegeta. She always thought he was an insufferable brat.
Now, timeline stuff!
On Earth, after Nappa's back was broken by Goku's kaioken attack, Sera stepped in to fight him. She seeing kaioken beforehand and having better agility than Nappa allowed her to put up more of a fight for Goku, but in the end, she was still overwhelmed and knocked out by him (but not before giving Goku a compliment, saying that his technique was impressive). Due to she being unconscious, she missed Vegeta killing Nappa.
When she came to minutes after Goku and Vegeta left to have their battle, she assured Krillin and Gohan that she wasn't going to do anything to them, the planet, nor help Vegeta. She never liked destroying planets. After hearing how Nappa was killed, she told them that her allegiance with Vegeta was probably over because he might try to kill her next for losing if he defeats Goku, so she ought to go to give herself more time. She calls her pod to her and gives the boys a mere "see ya", before leaving the planet.
Sera does end up going to Namek as Frieza has ofc become aware of the dragon balls existence. She's under close watch by his soldiers, being more or less forced to remain on the ship because trust in her has sharply declined due to Vegeta's rebellion. Naturally, she also doesn't want Frieza to wish for immortality because that would essentially be the end of the universe, so she does try to help Krillin and Gohan whenever she eventually comes across them again. She tries to help fight the Ginyu Force, but Recoome's too powerful and she gets wounded heavily like the others.
After Goku arrives to Namek and the Ginyu Force is soon dealt with, the cat's out of the bag that Sera has also betrayed Frieza, so she commits to helping the Earthlings. I like to imagine that thanks to her chill personality, honesty, and lack of bloodthirsty-ness, she endears herself to Krillin and Gohan waaaaay faster than Vegeta does (Gohan even starts calling her "Miss Sera" after a certain point teehee). She doesn't help, nor stop them when they take the dragon balls while Vegeta's napping to make their wishes. She frankly doesn't want Vegeta to get immortality either, because 1) in her eyes that's almost as bad as Frieza getting it and 2) being unable to die doesn't mean your power suddenly increases (unless Vegeta were to wish for that too) so it wouldn't even help against Frieza anyway.
She joins the group when Vegeta blasts off, and Porunga still ends up disappearing due to Guru's death. Frieza advances upon them, and his bout against Vegeta happens as normal. When Frieza takes on his 2nd form, her attempts to help Krillin and Gohan end with her getting sent flying into the ground and getting the air forced right out of her lungs. When Piccolo joins, things start briefly looking better, but of course go south again when Frieza goes into his 3rd form.
Frieza's final form does genuinely terrify her. Like the others, she didn't (and couldn't) help Vegeta. The healing pod finishes restoring Goku and he still arrives right as Vegeta's about to die. She's a total bystander from this point onwards, and also gives her energy to Piccolo when he goes to help defend Goku while the Spirit Bomb is being charged. Her added power does make him pack more of a punch to Frieza, but it makes little difference in the end.
As we all know, the Spirit Bomb fails. Frieza shoots Piccolo in the torso, she in the abdomen, and kills Krillin. While Gohan carries Piccolo, she drags herself up and flies away, as per an enraged Super Saiyan Goku's order. She marvels at the brilliance of the transformation before she goes, realizing that this is what Vegeta tried so hard to achieve.
She follows Gohan to the ship Goku used, and stays there (bleeding profusely mind you) with an unconscious Piccolo while Gohan goes to get Bulma. After he does so, Gohan flies away in the hopes he can help Goku, to which Bulma angrily asks Sera why she didn't do anything to stop him. Dryly, Sera rhetorically asks Bulma if she looks like she's in any condition to do so.
Like all the others, she's wished away to Earth when a revived Dende made the last wish Porunga still had available. Dende heals her, and she just...chills from that point forward. She's both somewhat happy and annoyed to see that Vegeta was revived and also taken to Earth, especially when he gloats about killing the Namekians that weren't also revived because of he not being one of Frieza's henchmen. Such behavior only serves to make HER look bad too, even if she actually didn't kill a single Namekian herself.
During the wait for the Namekian dragon balls to recharge, she does stay in Capsule Corp for a while. When they all find out that Goku's still alive but out training in space, she doesn't bother to stop Vegeta from leaving the planet to go search for him.
It's at this time that she being free from Frieza fully sets in. Sera takes a moment to fly out to a quiet grassy field far away from any town or city and just...sits there. For an hour or two, enjoying the peace. No more would she have to travel to multiple plants and conquer them in Frieza's name. No more would she have to endure the cruelty from he and his deceased generals, subjected to their racism and misogyny. No more would she have to carry the burden of being a Saiyan who didn't agree with her kind's lifestyle. After the decades it's been, her life is finally under her own control.
And, she loves it. Sera then undergoes the journey in trying to learn what she exactly wants to do with herself, now that she has freedom. She leaves Capsule Corp after a few weeks, getting tired of dealing with Bulma's nosy questions of her relation to Vegeta. She only leaves Bulma with the information that she's his "big sister".
Sera's traveling around Earth, partaking in street fights for easy zeni and sleeping out in trees or in caves, when she learns Vegeta eventually came back - much to her surprise. The surprise fades when she remembers Vegeta's character and sees that he's most likely waiting for Goku to come back to Earth so he could try to kill him. Again. But because Goku's a Super Saiyan now and Vegeta still isn't, she's confident in Goku being undoubtedly stronger than him now.
Sera's completely out of the loop of Frieza's return, up until she sees that dreadfully familiar ship flying down into Earth's atmosphere. She meets up with everyone, greeting Gohan and Krillin, brushing off Yamcha's nervousness + Piccolo & Tien's suspicion, and gets caught up on what's happened. She goes with the group to confront Frieza, and watches in awe as Trunks appears and easily deals with him.
She's skeptical of the teen seemingly knowing Goku and where he'll exactly touch down upon his return to Earth, but goes with it, though a little weirded out by how she catches Trunks staring at her on and off. Goku returns; after Trunks finishes talking to him and goes back to the future, she learns about the upcoming Android threat.
She's irritated because she would rather not have to deal with life or death situations so soon, and is vexed by Goku and Vegeta wanting to face it head on rather than stop it from happening altogether with the dragon balls, but upon hearing that she dies to the Androids in the future, Sera understands that getting stronger is thus mandatory. She agrees to have training sessions throughout the next 3 years with Goku, Gohan, and Piccolo - slowly gaining the trust of the latter during it all (Gohan liking her enough definitely helped). She learns how to sense ki, and how to suppress her own, from them.
Also during the 3 years, Sera discovers that she rather likes Earth's music. When she tries to sing once, she finds herself liking it a lot. Unbeknownst to others, Sera starts going to a karaoke box and develops a hobby of singing...particularly drifting towards the heavy metal kind. The intense instrumentals and she bellowing out made up lyrics consisting of violence and revenge to them was very cathartic, as she bottled up a lot of emotions during her imprisonment under Frieza's reign. Her Saiyan biology allowed her to literally growl / scream with ease, like she's heard many metal singers do in their songs.
After a session one evening, she's approached by a man who claimed to overhear her and stated that she sounded very good. He had a metal band that needed a new lead vocalist, and was interested in she potentially joining it. Knowing that she needed a job, she figured "why not?".
Sera had to balance still training with the others AND training vocally-wise for the band, but she made it work. Thanks to her, the underground band actually started getting more and more popular, and she genuinely liked being recognized for something outside of her power for once. She had to take a small hiatus from the band when the day of the Andriods' attack came around, though.
This post has gotten long enough, so I'll summarize the rest since Sera doesn't change canon's events that much.
She joined the others to search for the Andriods, saw Vegeta return + that he's also a Super Saiyan now, saw 17 kill Dr. Gero + 18 free 16, and got smacked around by them alongside the others. After healing from a sensu bean, she saw that her power still wasn't enough and figured she'd be better off doing her own thing. She was sure Goku (whenever he recovered from the heart virus), Gohan, and probably Vegeta would be the planet's best chances for survival.
She returns to her band and it gets active again...up until she sees Perfect Cell's broadcasted threat of the Cell Games. Ofc she's like "what the fuck" and goes to Capsule Corp to get caught up. Even after hearing about the Hyperbolic Time Chamber, she still doesn't care about training and fighting in the Cell Games, which sparks an argument with Vegeta about her pride as a Saiyan. She cuts it short by telling him that "Saiyan pride" itself doesn't exist anymore since their race was decimated. He has his own sense of pride as she has hers, and hers is aware she doesn't measure up to the threat. She'll still be there when the Cell Games start though, because she doesn't want to miss that show.
The only thing worth of note is that Sera does get roughed up by a Cell Jr., but the Cell Saga pans out how it does in canon. Buu saga wise, Sera's band has risen and become more mainstream through the 7 years, so more people are aware of her identity. After stopping by the Son family home to check up on Gohan and Goten (she's basically their "honorary aunt" at this point), she learns of the World's Martial Arts tournament and joins because she does want to see Goku again, but the threat of Majin Buu rises soon after. She largely stays out of it though, and ends up eventually dying when Kid Buu destroys Earth.
Sera is sent to Hell by King Yemma, where she does encounter her papa King Vegeta, her mom, and some of the other Saiyans once again (details on that deserve its own post ohoho), but it's only a temporary punishment before she's allowed access to Heaven due to she having atoned for the lives she took during her slavery back in the Cold / Frieza Force. Everyone's wished back, and she gives her energy to Goku's Spirit Bomb that kills Kid Buu.
In terms of DBS, I'll leave that alone for now. Super's like this weird spin-off series that I don't like (don't care if it's truly canon or not), so I don't feel any need to specify how Sera does or doesn't impact its events.
3 notes
·
View notes
Night Changes [Two]
Night Changes Series Masterlist
Summary: The reader fucks up. The question is, why? Poe remembers the first time he had to say goodbye to her.
Warnings: Angst, angst, language, sadness, violence, injury description, bacta-shot briefly described. WC-5,385
A/N: This one is super angsty with some great flashbacks! Get ready because after this chapter things really pick up, maybe some of that smut will make an appearance 👀
You slammed your bedroom door shut, anger and embarrassment coursing through you. You don’t think you had ever been as angry in your 14 years, wanting to scream and throw yourself on your bed to cry. Since your mother wasn’t home, you opted for the former, letting a shrill shriek escape, filling the room with your anger.
Even as you did this, you heard the front door open and close, fast footsteps on the floor telling you he was coming straight to your room. Damn, in your blind rage you forgot to lock the front door.
Not that locking the door had ever stopped Poe from getting into the Horn household.
“Go AWAY, Poe!”
His footsteps stopped just outside your door, the brainless, annoying, terrible Poe Dameron not stupid enough to try and open your door when you were this angry. Still, he called to you through the thin wood, voice strained with regret and worry.
“Please, I’m sorry-“
“You are not, you jerk!” You yelled back childishly, as a fresh wave of tears slipped out. At least he couldn’t see them. You caught your breath before continuing, “I saw you grinning over at Charlie when you punched Tahla! You enjoyed it!”
“He was touching you!” Poe responded, “Kissing you and touching your face! How else was I supposed to-“
“You were supposed to let me make out with the hot guy, Poe!” You growled, ripping open your door to glare daggers at your former best friend's face. Not expecting you to do this, he almost fell into the room as he had been leaning against the door. Once he straightened himself up, Poe frowned down at you, bewildered.
“I didn’t realize-I mean, I thought he was being fresh. Charlie thought so too.” As if your brother had anything to do with Poe’s overprotective reaction.
You gave him your worst look, marching further into your room and tossing your jacket on your bed angrily, hands gesturing wildly. “I’ve had a crush on Tahla for like, two months, Poe! He finally asks me out and gives me a pretty innocent kiss and then you come out of nowhere and punch him! In the face!”
You crossed your arms over your chest, staring at your floor now as you worked to keep any more angry tears from coming. Poe was silent for a beat, then stepped a little further into your room cautiously, as though you were an enraged mudhorn.
“I’m sorry, I really didn’t know any of that, I jumped to conclusions,” You gave a humourless laugh, because when did Poe ‘better to ask for forgiveness’ Dameron ever not jump to conclusions? “Honestly, I didn’t hit him too hard, he’ll be fine.”
You couldn’t help it, you stomped your foot. As though you were a small child. You were so incredibly frustrated, you actually stomped your foot down. With another angry cry, you stormed across the room and pushed Poe, who barely moved because even just two years older he was so much stronger, broader, solid. It only made you angrier, emphasizing every other word with another hit to his chest. “You kriffing idiot, Poe! He’s never going to speak to me again now! What gives you the right, huh?”
You finally looked up at him only to see a confusing mix of emotions cross his features, the most prominent of which appeared to be regret. “I’m really, really sorry. I’m just protective of you, I know I shouldn’t have done that.” He hung his head in shame, a hand moving to rub the back of his neck tiredly. You knew him far too well not to realize how sincere he was being.
You softened, only a little. “Poe, look,” You wiped under your eyes as you considered your words, “I like that you’re protective, don’t get me wrong. I know you love me. But you can’t just do stuff like that! I didn’t punch that girl from Tatooine when I found you guys making out last year, did I?”
Poe gave a small laugh, nodding his agreement. “Yeah, I don’t know what came over me...I promise it won’t ever happen again. Unless,” He paused and looked at you, his head tilting slightly, signature grin reappearing, “Unless you ask me to.”
“Thank you,” You stepped closer, into his space and wrapped your arms around his waist as you gazed up at your...well, you suppose he could remain your best friend. He stiffened briefly before his arms wrapped around you in return. “Poe, I love you too, you know, you idiot.”
“I know, sweetheart.”
-
You had fucked up.
It wasn’t a planet-shattering mistake that cost lives or the mission but considering your fuck up occurred directly in front of Poe, it sort of felt like it was that bad. And really, what the hell had you been thinking? Weeks of working together without issue and today was the day the cold professionalism shattered thanks to your behaviour. Kriff. And fuck.
You couldn’t explain what came over you, one minute everything was going as much to plan as it could when infiltrating a small but well-manned First Order outpost for data. Suddenly, the next moment you were disregarding protocol to shoot a Storm Trooper outside of your zone, only to miss the one hiding within your zone and getting your ass handed to you. The pain in your gut increased somewhat as you remembered the hit you’d taken not so long ago.
Temmin suddenly flipped onto a private channel, pulling you from your thoughts.
“Black-2, uh, I’m leaving Black Leader to you on this one, if that’s okay.”
You sighed, “Yes, Black-3, understood. Best to avoid the area if you know what’s good for you.”
“Yeah, I’m not getting caught in the crossfire, Major.” He agreed, before wishing you luck and cutting out.
It was almost funny when you landed and saw Temmin hoofing it quickly away from the landing zone, Karê also nowhere to be found.
Great squad, leaving you to handle the Commander’s rage on your own, you thought bitterly to yourself despite knowing full well it was anger that was deservedly going to be aimed at you.
You groaned inwardly as you watched Poe land nearby. You knew he was livid because, after your egregious failure in judgement, he ceased speaking to you entirely, which was very uncharacteristic for Poe. You had been the one giving him the indifferent, haughty attitude, which simply drove him up the wall. Instead of getting angry, he just didn’t shut up, as if he hoped eventually he’d say something to pull you out and make him feel better. He wanted you to have a big reaction, so it was the last thing you were going to give him.
He was going to yell now, though. And you’d let him because he was your commander, you had disobeyed orders, and that was all that mattered. You were so ashamed of yourself you hadn’t bothered to update him on your condition. Which was becoming increasingly uncomfortable because the hit you’d taken to your stomach had caught you so entirely off guard you weren’t braced in any way for the impact. And the Storm Trooper had packed a mean fucking punch.
You sighed heavily before moving to exit your X-Wing, grimacing at the pain and taking it slow. You’d go to the med bay once he was finished reprimanding you, and then you were going to bed. Where you’d stay for a few days and wallow, just because you could. Today had not been your day.
You waited patiently for Poe to climb down from his ship, watching his stiff movements, the way he all but threw his helmet on the ground. Standing as tall as you could manage without straining your aching belly too much, you jerked your chin up and met his eyes levelly, your expression respectfully neutral. You braced, ready to take your dressing-down.
At least it was quiet in the hangar.
“What, and I can’t stress this enough, the actual fuck was that, Major?” He barked, storming up to you and stopping only a few steps away, his hands on his hips. Briefly, you recalled the number of times in your life you’d seen him this angry, and how he’d always stand the same. That anger had never been directed at you before, however. “You know what, don’t answer that. Instead, tell me why you think you’re above basic protocol?”
“I don’t, Commander.” You replied evenly, holding his gaze as he glared at you with the power of seven suns. You fought down the part of you that wanted to snap at him because you needed to separate the Poe you once thought was a friend from the one in front of you who was your superior.
“Because protocol includes abandoning clearing your own zone to take over in mine. Did you think I was suddenly incapable of handling myself? Did something happen which led you to believe I was incapacitated?”
His voice hadn’t risen, now it was just steady, loud but he wasn’t exactly yelling. The dripping sarcasm was more than enough to get his message across. You took a steadying breath, then paused to try and stop yourself from wincing in pain.
“I did not think you were incapable, sir. I-I...” You faltered here because you truly had no idea why you reacted the way you did.
It was simple enough; breach the base, take down as many as possible but be quick and get BB8 to the control room to steal important data that would be harder to get from a more well-manned and larger base. Protect the droid while he worked. And up to entering the control room, all had gone well enough. Captain Temmin Wexley and Kare Kun, Black-3 and Black-4 respectfully, were with you and Poe, stationing themselves at the doors to the control room while you and your Commander breached.
You took out several officers and Storm Troopers within your zone, and you did think you had cleared it. You really did, but you were in the process of following protocol and checking when movement across the room-in Poe’s zone-caught your eye.
And you did abandon your zone. Because when you saw the downed but obviously not dead trooper raise his blaster directly at Poe from just a few feet away, something inside of you simply responded, as natural as the instinct to blink when it was too bright, you had turned and aimed your blaster at that trooper and shot him directly in the middle of his helmet.
And then the Trooper who had been hiding in your zone had pulled you roughly back way by your hair, your scalp prickling from the force, and used your distraction to his advantage when he pummeled your stomach. He had hit the air straight out of your lungs and you knew you’d have collapsed to the ground if he wasn’t holding your hair.
He never did get the chance to consider raising his blaster to finish you off, though. Poe had charged him, one moment you were crying out in pain and the next he practically pounced on the trooper, who had released you to try and defend himself until falling limp to the floor with a blaster shot to the head, Poe having wasted no time in killing him.
You had stumbled back, hitting a wall and panting heavily, watching as Poe rose from atop the trooper, turned to look at you with fire in his eyes, and then just as quickly looked away. You weren’t stupid enough to say anything, so you simply worked to catch your breath, your eyes on the droid successfully stealing the data.
At your failure to explain yourself, Poe’s brows shot up so high they threatened to disappear into his hairline, and he stepped closer to look down at you. “I’m sorry, Major, didn’t quite catch that. You want to go ahead and speak up?”
You settled on a partial truth, having nothing more to offer. “I reacted to a threat to my Commander. Poorly, yes, and for that, I do apologize.” Your last word came out strained, the pain in your stomach becoming more than distracting now when you took in too much air.
Poe noticed, his brows dropping into a frown as he gazed at you, eyes moving from your face, which was sweaty, to your awkward posture. “Are you injured?” He demanded.
You nodded, “Slightly, sir. I’ll go to the med bay after.” Ah, fuck though, it did hurt. Maybe you should just stop talking altogether until you could get a bacta shot.
Crossing his arms, Poe leaned away from you and sighed as his expression softened a little, “Just go. And don’t pull that bullshit again. Fuck, you should have been excited at the prospect of seeing me get hurt, (y/n).”
You weren’t going to give that statement any acknowledgment because he knew it wasn’t true, he just said it to be mean. Pursing your lips, you gave him one curt nod before stepping around him and making your way out of the hangar. You didn’t look back, but you sensed his eyes on you as you hunched over, clutching your stomach and hobbling as quickly as you could.
Thankfully, the med bay wasn’t too far from the hangar, though it certainly felt a lot further now that you actually wanted to be there that exact moment. You garnered a few looks as you walked along, your expression was positively livid from the pain and the shame of the day. When you came through the doors of the med bay, you saw a nurse stationed in the entryway at a neat desk, where she typed away on a datapad.
When she glanced up at you, she did a double-take before jumping to her feet, her eyes landing briefly on your flight suit patch. “Major! My goodness, are you alright?”
You bit back an angry retort and settled on a pained grunt, pointing at your stomach. “Took a serious punch here, armoured trooper.” The nurse nodded at your explanation, stepping around the desk to help lead you around the corner where a room was set up with several beds. She indicated the nearest one, which you walked up to, hesitating to sit.
“I’ll just get a healer.” The nurse said kindly, hurrying through a set of doors to your left.
You shut your eyes, tears springing up the moment you were alone. You tried to hold them in, turning carefully and slowly, slowly lowering yourself to sit gingerly on the bed.
“Fucking fuck fuck!” You hissed, the movement and shifting of weight causing the pain to spike, your back tightening in protest.
A clearing of a throat alerted you that another person was in the room now, just in front of you based on how close they sounded. But you kept your eyes shut, afraid that if you opened them tears would fall, and you hated when anyone saw you crying.
“Major, I’m Healer Derrin. I’m going to quickly assess you before giving you a bacta shot. Is that alright?” His voice sounded kind enough, a little amusement laced in his words telling you he heard your less than ladylike cursing moments before. Not that you ever cared about being proper or delicate.
You nodded, “Sure thing, doc.” Eyes still pressed tightly closed, you jerked a little when his hands slid over your wrists, gently easing your hands from clutching your stomach. You dropped them to the bed and fisted the sheets as the healer began to prod your abdomen.
You couldn’t help it, you groaned in pain as he did this, fighting the urge to push him away.
“I know, you’re doing great. Listen, I need you to lay down so my med-droid can quickly scan you for internal bleeding, can you do that for me, honey?”
Normally anyone calling you ‘honey’ would earn a swift kick to the nuts, but given the nature of your predicament and the fact he was clearly trying to comfort you, you let it slide. Without a word, you let yourself go limp and tried to lay. He caught your shoulders and helped you, saying words of comfort as you swore repeatedly. The droid got to work the moment you settled, and it didn’t take long from there.
“I need to just unzip your flight suit to get access to your buttocks, Major.”
“Yep.” You replied tightly, not giving two shits how he went about giving you the shot. His hands moved with care and respect, though you wore the standard-issue white shirt underneath your suit. You knew a few female pilots who liked only wearing their bra beneath the suit and never understood their thinking. You liked to be prepared for anything, and sacrificing comfort for sexiness never did appeal to you.
Once he finished, his hands moved to your hip, rotating it slightly and moving the fabric of both your suit and your underwear aside, your left butt cheek now exposed. You felt something cold and wet on your skin, then the sting of a needle and then pure bliss as the bacta shot was injected.
Your body immediately sagged into the mattress, a relieved sigh escaping your lips as the pain vanished. You opened your eyes as the droid removed the needle and the Healer began zipping you back up. And stars, the healer! He was like something straight out of a Corellian soap opera, the definition of tall, handsome and unfairly fit. And he was smiling at you, flashing bright white teeth as his blue eyes searched your face with professional care.
“Better?” He asked, laughing when you merely nodded happily, a noise of content humming out. So much better, you could fall asleep right that moment.
He helped you sit back up, though you didn’t need the help anymore. You felt amazing like you’d never known pain in your life. Bacta was the shit. You’d only had it twice before in your life, once when you were a teenager and the other time just after you’d joined the Resistance.
“Thank you, Healer, really.” You breathed, smiling up at him. You held out your hand, eager to correct your initial, though understandable, rudeness. “Major (y/n) Horn.”
Healer Derrin shook your proffered hand, returning your smile with his own. He had fair hair, a smattering of freckles that only made him that much more endearing, and you suddenly felt a little shy. Although he had just seen half your ass, so what was the point in feeling shy.
“Great to meet you, Major.”
“You too, wish it were under better circumstances, but I suppose this is the nature of our work.” You replied with a shrug, flushing slightly when he gave another warm laugh. You weren’t sure if you were flirting exactly, because you hadn’t done that in years, but it felt nice all the same. You’d mostly kept to yourself since coming to D’Qar, really only socializing with your team and a mechanic who had long hours. It had been a little lonely.
You stood, straightening your flight suit as the Healer entered a few notes into a datapad. “Now, if you have any sort of discomfort or pain in the next twenty-four hours please come straight here, but otherwise you’re good to return to duty.” He gestured toward the way out and you walked with him, pleasantly surprised he was walking you out. “If I can be bold, Major...?”
He stopped walking at the doors to the med bay, which opened as you turned to look up at the healer, curious. “How so?” But you could guess. He was rubbing the back of his neck with one hand, his eyes warm, an almost shy nature about him suddenly.
“I...I’ve seen you around, a couple of times only but you always, that is. Uh,” He paused, laughing to himself a little as he struggled, and you tried to give him a kind smile as you patiently waited for him to get it together. “I think you’re really pretty, and I’d love to take you for a drink sometime.”
Despite sensing where the conversation had been moving, it still didn’t prepare you. You’d had a few one-night rendezvous over the years, casual intimacy for the fun of it. But this was new, not so heat-of-the-moment but rather just a pleasant man complimenting you and asking you out. “Oh,” You grinned, “That’s sweet of you. I’d like that, Healer-“
“Rush, you can call me Rush.” He was smiling too, relieved.
“Rush,” You repeated, “Well Rush, you know where to find me when you want to get that drink.” And giving him one last smile and a little wink, you spun away and stepped into the hall, feeling a little giddy.
Until you saw the back of a familiar Commander disappear around the corner ahead, shoulders stiffer than when he’d climbed out of his X-Wing half an hour before. Huh.
++
Poe had experienced too many strong emotions for one day.
Though anger seemed to be the star of the day, which was new for Poe as generally his anger burned away quickly if ever it did come up-he just wasn’t one to sit in a single emotion for very long. Today though, he’d gone from shocked outrage to seething fury to whatever the fuck anger seeing you get asked out by some cocky Healer had brought on.
When he’d watched you leave the hangar, he saw the weird way you walked and knew you’d been hiding your injury the whole time he’d yelled, something that both impressed him and fed his anger. You were supposed to report injuries to him straight away, not let them fester until you were nearly ready to pass out.
Stars, you were fucking stubborn.
He’d followed you to the med bay, concern overriding everything else, and waited by the nurses' station while you were treated. He could hear you making pained noises, trying to bite back sobs, to hide how much you were hurting. You’d always been a bit of a masochist, preferring to suffer in silence, alone, whenever possible. He’d sat outside your door growing up plenty of times, listening as you sobbed, knowing you were aware he was there but unable to leave you alone. And you’d never really asked him to leave, so long as he stayed quiet and didn’t mention it when you eventually let him in the room.
Still, he’d always hug you and quickly claim it was for him, not you, and you’d just give a watery laugh and roll your eyes.
When he heard you sigh happily getting your shot, he went out into the hallway and debated waiting for you. He still had words for you, still needed a proper explanation for your mistake, because you didn’t make mistakes. Not like that, during a mission, and certainly not simply to protect him. He thought perhaps you had wanted to clear his zone just to prove a point, to show off because you’d spent the last few weeks essentially ignoring him, giving him a shoulder so cold he wondered how you didn’t turn into fucking ice.
But when he turned in time to see the Stormtrooper you’d missed pull you back, he realized you hadn’t finished clearing your zone, you had not been trying to best him. You had actually, astonishingly, fucked up.
The surprise was far outweighed by the force that rose within him when he watched you take the hit, your little body just folding from the muscle behind the punch, your cry of anguish filling the air. Protectiveness, the likes of which he never felt toward another person, surged and aided him in tackling the trooper away from you at the same time he aimed his blaster and took the shot, killing him.
And when he stood up and saw you watching him, wide-eyed and clearly flustered, he became overwhelmed. Because you suddenly looked exactly like the (y/n) Horn he’d grown up with, all the walls and pretenses and cold shoulders stripped away just for a few seconds, revealing the you he knew so well underneath. It ripped at his heart, grief and longing swirling around as he thought of how much he missed you, missed Charlie, missed his old life.
So he let the anger take over because that was easier than trying to play it all off and scold you at that moment before promising to chew you out after the mission. No, he allowed you to see his fury and when he approached you back on base and saw you waiting for him with your head held high, he knew the message had been received, all the same, the old you locked back away and ready to cooly take your verbal punishment like any other good pilot.
Fuck, he hated this. Hated working with you and having to see every day the person you had become to him, what his actions and words had reduced you to. He’d seen you outside of missions, around the base and in the caf. You were content to be alone, occasionally sitting with Temmin or a friendly mechanic named Ana who was assigned to your ship. He never saw you out at the only cantina nearby, never even saw you laugh. You were like a shell of who you’d once been until Rush Derrin seemed to pull out an unfamiliar side of you when he’d asked you out.
And though he hadn’t yet figured out how to try and heal his relationship with you, Poe had been thinking about it constantly. What to do, how to say he was sorry. How to convince you without causing you to pull away even further. So the fact that a random guy had just managed to make you laugh, smile, agree to a date, well that was more than enough to fuel his anger.
The thing was, after Charlie, it was tough, hard as shit to deal with what his life was without you or your brother. After some time, he learned how to lock it all back, avoid it as much as possible to protect himself. Because he hadn’t had any luck in figuring out where you’d gone and he was losing hope he’d be able to find you and beg for forgiveness. But then, working with you these last weeks had proven that those years apart had been easy, so fucking easy, compared to the pain and misery of being so close to you again but feeling like a different person. Feeling like you weren’t the (y/n) he remembered and wondering if she was lost forever, that he’d never be able to find his way back to her. Which meant that Poe would never breathe freely again, didn’t it?
He hadn’t breathed properly since Charlie’s funeral.
Poe wanted to punch something, but he hurried away before you could see him and instead went straight to his room, where he would spend the next hour standing under scalding hot water. It was an attempt to help him clear his mind, though once he relaxed enough it only ended up wandering right back to you, to memories he’d locked away for years, his walls crumbling useless heaps now.
-
“You know, I’m really going to miss you, Poe. Is it bad that I don’t want you to leave?”
Poe looked down at you where you lay curled into his side, the two of you lounging together on your bed, a night like a million others only this one was different, final.
It was the last night before he and Charlie shipped off to basic training, to become real pilots with the Resistance far, far away. He was beyond excited as he’d been dreaming of joining for as long as he could remember, but torn because you still had two years before you’d be joining them, and even then you’d be doing basic and kept busy with that until you could be assigned. He could only hope that he and Charlie were assigned to the base by the time you came along, but it all seemed too far away, too much time apart.
“No, I get it,” He replied, tightening his arm around your shoulders, “I’m going to miss you more than anything on this entire planet, sweetheart. I don’t...I’m not even sure how to exist without you, you know?” Truthfully, his entire life orbited around you. He wasn’t sure what it would do to him to leave.
You hummed sadly in agreement, “At least you’ll have Charlie. I have to figure out how to live without either of you,” Your voice broke, and you paused to try and prevent yourself from crying. Poe waited for you to continue, but let his tears fall freely because fuck, this hurt. “Thought I’d be ready for this, but these last few months together have just flown by and now you’re both leaving and I’m going to be alone.”
And there, there were the tears you so often refused to give in to, springing free and pulling sobs from deep within your chest. When you did cry, it only ever seemed to be for Poe. He was the only person you let take care of you, the only one allowed to see the vulnerability.
He sat up, pulling you with him and tugging you into his lap, his arms crushing you against him as you both cried. He always adored how well you fit in his arms. How perfect it felt to press his face into your neck, hold your body against his. He was going to miss this, miss you, so fucking much.
You were right; the last few months together did fly by, and he still hadn’t told you...but he couldn’t, wouldn’t, not now, not with so much time apart literally on the horizon. He’d debated the same thing for years, questioning his decisions these last few weeks because they were going to be the last together for quite some time. But you were his best friend, he didn’t want to risk anything right now by admitting...well, there was no point in thinking about it anymore.
He and Charlie were leaving, and you were going to have to live here without them for the first time in your life. They would be busy and together, you would be on your own. He wasn’t going to add another layer of baggage to your shoulders before leaving.
Of course, they would write, possibly visit once or twice but there were so many variables to that possibility there was no point in getting his hopes up that it would happen. Two years, in the grand scheme of the universe they were nothing, minimal, no time at all. But even just a night away from you had become unbearable to Poe. As much as he was ready and excited to go, he knew he was leaving half his heart behind and he was content with sitting in that and being miserable about it here with you safely tucked into his arms.
“You will never be alone, sweetheart, not really.” He whispered, pressing a kiss to your hair, one hand absentmindedly rubbing your back in soothing circles. “Doesn’t matter how many galaxies separate us, I will always be with you, and you with me. I promise.”
You clung to him tighter then, your face pressed into his neck as a fresh wave of sobs wracked your body, and Poe joined you because saying goodbye, even for just a little while, was the fucking worst.
Poe and you stayed together all night, eventually falling asleep for a few hours before dawn brightened your room and you each awoke. Saying your goodbye’s and I love you’s until Charlie joined you, sandwiching you between him and Poe and giving you both the saddest grin.
And in those final moments where life was just the three of you, Charlie promised you’d all be together again. That you would fly together on the same Squadron before you could blink, fight until you won the war and spend the rest of your years laughing and flying and living until you were all old and grey and cranky.
And you’d each felt better because when Charlie made a promise to either of you, he never let you down.
Poe continued to stand under the running water, his anger now faded, replaced with an indescribable sorrow. His choked sobs filled the otherwise quiet space, long after the water turned cold and night settled in outside.
Taglist:
@mermaidxatxheart @foxilayde @eleinemk @paintballkid711 @mylifeisactuallyamess @20th-centu-fairy-girl @deitysnips @cannedsoupsucks @ubri812
170 notes
·
View notes
I just wanna ask, and don’t get mad at me cause I’m genuinely curious, how do you stan Ron? Like, I like him, but he is definitely misogynistic (slut shaming Ginny, treating hermione like she owes him something and being mad that she kissed someone years before, always objectifying Fleur, and acting like girls who aren’t pretty aren’t worth much). Like, by DH I feel like he definitely has mostly grown out of it, but still 6/7 books he’s kinda unbearable IMO
how do you stan Ron?
Like this:
OH MY GOD HAVE YOU SEEN. HAVE YOU SEEN HIM DID YOU SEE MY BABY OH MY GOD. WHEN HARRY’S ARM HAD GONE KABLOOIE BECAUSE OF LOCKHART AND HE. RON. HE WAS. HELPING HIM GET DRESSED???? OH MY GOD BABY???? HHHHNNNNGGGG. AND. AND. AND ALSO WHEN HE. OMG. WHEN HE WAS PUTTING FOOD ON HIS FRIENDS’ PLATES LIKE. MOM FRIEND ALERT MOM FRIEND ALERT MOM FRIEND ALERT. AND THE WAY HE’S ALWAYS BLUSHING AND BEING EMBARRASSED AT THE SLIGHTEST PRAISE BUT ALSO HE’S SO DESPERATELY SEEKING IT BUT HE KNOWS HE CAN’T TAKE IT AND EEK EEK EEK THAT’S SO CUTE SOMEONE HOLD ME IT’S ADORABLE RONALD WEASLEY YOU ARE SO GOING TO BE THE DEATH OF ME IT’S ILLEGAL TO BE THIS CUTE!!!!
Ok and then.
he is definitely misogynistic
No. And here’s why.
slut shaming Ginny
Yes, that was wrong. And guess what, that’s also something he probably - scratch that, definitely - picked up from his mother. And also his brothers, recall how Fred and George too don’t like to see Ginny go around with boys.
There’s also something to recall: Ron was there when Ginny was taken into the Chamber of Secrets and learned later that it was because she had trusted an older guy. You seriously wouldn’t be paranoid about who your sister dates after that?
It was wrong. Yeah. And he more than learned his lesson when Ginny clapped back by virgin-shaming him and basically told him that he was childish because he hadn’t have a relationship yet. So would that make Ginny sexist too? Or is it just for Ron?
treating hermione like she owes him something
..................... uuuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhh... when? When the fuck did anything like that happen?
He made a prat of himself at the Yule Ball, that much is obvious. But he didn’t tell her anything like “you should be with me” or didn’t insinuate anything of the sort. He was a jealous bitch but kept attacking Krum, not Hermione.
If you mean in sixth year when he treated her with “icy, sneering indifference” for the course of two weeks, yeah that was bad but that’s not “treating her like she owes him something”, the fuck?
being mad that she kissed someone years before
Yeah. I know. And that was bad, ooooh you got me to admit Ron did bad stuff, that’s what you want to see, right? And I reckon he was also mad that she hid it from him, and that he had to learn it from his sister of all people. We see Ron handles what he considers betrayals terribly. I have some meta discussing the possibility that he has a form of Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria.
always objectifying Fleur
Um... no, he doesn’t. He makes a stupid comment about her once in GOF then stops. Let’s also fucking remember that Fleur is a Veela, she literally makes guys stare at her as part of her powers!! I’m not blaming her because she’s literally born that way, but you can’t blame someone who is under magical compulsion either.
acting like girls who aren’t pretty aren’t worth much
So tell me why he was friends with Hermione then?
Because Hermione wasn’t Emma Watson the super hawt sexy model goddess. Hermione was Mrs Generic. Until this once at the Yule Ball when she got the pretty princess perfect Mary Sue makeover but then stopped because she had to remain ~relatable uwu~.
Again. Ron made stupid sexist comments. But it’s actively shown that he doesn’t follow up on them. If he did indeed live by the motto “girls who aren’t pretty aren’t worth much”, explain to me why he wasn’t simping and drooling all over Padma Patil who is explicitly stated to be one of the prettiest girls at school when she was his date? Why exactly did he ignore her and was a miserable twat the whole evening instead of basking in the joy of having snagging a girl that was “worth it”? Well surprise, it’s because HE ACTUALLY ISN’T LIKE THAT AND WHAT HE SAYS IS MAYBE SHIT HIS “COOL OLDER BROTHERS” SAY AND HE THINKS THAT BY EXTENSION IT WOULD MAKE HIM COOL TO REPEAT IT. MIMETISM, THAT'S BASIC FUCKING HUMAN PSYCHOLOGY FOR FUCKING TODDLERS MY FUCKING GOD.
Like, by DH I feel like he definitely has mostly grown out of it,
............
...................................
...............................................................
so. so why. so why wouldn’t you. use that. as a reason. to stan him.
like.
fuck all the “hurr durr ron weasley the boy who made it out of the friendzone!!!!” bullshit, let’s start going with “Ron Weasley, the Boy who became a Man, and not one of those 'uugghh im such an alpha male’ ones but one that’s got the balls to say ‘hey love, I’ve got an idea, what if you kept doing that job you love and feel passionate about while I support you and do the majority of the childcare while also working a smaller job on the side so we’re never short on money’“
Why you people gotta be “yeah I like Ron BUTT” when you know full-well this fucking awful fandom will rake him over hot coals over the slightest mistake he does - worse, will actively go out of their way to interpret his positive moments in the most negative way possible??? Fuck off with that bullshit. Ron dared to say bad stuff omygah big deal, he was forgiven for it all and you’re just all cowards looking to feel “pure” by telling yourself “oh yeah but he was problematic once uwu”. FUCK. THAT. NOISE.
but still 6/7 books he’s kinda unbearable IMO
And IMO he’s not, funny how that works
So.
I guess it’s impossible to stan Ron because he was problematic uwu.
Ok.
Then I hereby decree that it’s impossible to stan Hermione Granger because:
“I’ll bet you wish you hadn’t given up Divination now, don’t you, Hermione?” asked Parvati, smirking. [...]
“Not really,” said Hermione indifferently, who was reading the Daily Prophet. “I’ve never really liked horses.” She turned a page of the newspaper, scanning its columns.
“He’s not a horse, he’s a centaur!” said Lavender, sounding shocked.
“A gorgeous centaur . . .” sighed Parvati.
“Either way, he’s still got four legs,” said Hermione coolly. “Any-way, I thought you two were all upset that Trelawney had gone?” - Order of the Phoenix, ch 27
wow casual use of a racial slur yay!!! A+
And it’s also forbidden to stan Harry Potter either since:
It was raining hard now, and she was nowhere to be seen. He simply did not understand what had happened; half an hour ago they had been getting along fine.
“Women!” he muttered angrily, sloshing down the rain-washed street with his hands in his pockets. “What did she want to talk about Cedric for anyway? Why does she always want to drag up a subject that makes her act like a human hosepipe?” - Order of the Phoenix, ch 25
and
“Harry! There you are, thank goodness! Hi, Luna!”
“What’s happened to you?” asked Harry, for Hermione looked distinctly disheveled, rather as though she had just fought her way out of a thicket of Devil’s Snare.
“Oh, I’ve just escaped — I mean, I’ve just left Cormac,” she said. “Under the mistletoe,” she added in explanation, as Harry continued to look questioningly at her.
“Serves you right for coming with him,” he told her severely.
“I thought he’d annoy Ron most,” said Hermione dispassionately. “I debated for a while about Zacharias Smith, but I thought, on the whole —”
“You considered Smith?” said Harry, revoked. - Half-Blood Prince
Victim-blaming! Nice Harry, nice. Always classy.
Ok, Ginny stanning is already cancelled because she virgin-shamed Ron, right, so who’s left, who’s left... ah yeah:
“There you go,” said Fred proudly. “Best range of love potions you’ll find anywhere.” - Half-Blood Prince
Selling date rape drugs proudly ouh là là. Bye Fred.
"Do they work?” she asked.
“Certainly they work, for up to twenty-four hours at a time depending on the weight of the boy in question...”
“...and the attractiveness of the girl,” said George, reappearing suddenly at their side. “But we’re not selling them to our sister,” he added, becoming suddenly stern, “not when she’s already got about five boys on the go from what we’ve...”
“Whatever you’ve heard from Ron is a big fat lie,” said Ginny calmly, leaning forward to take a small pink pot off the shelf.
Assuming that only girls use love potions, and only on boys. Men never rape in JKR’s world, only women do, you heard it from George Weasley here folks, I’m just passing on the message. Ah and I hope you’re also starting the Fred And George Hate Club given how he’s also slut-shaming Ginny.
“What’s this?”
“Guaranteed ten-second pimple vanisher,” said Fred. “Excellent on everything from boils to blackheads, but don’t change the subject. Are you or are you not currently going out with a boy called Dean Thomas?”
“Yes, I am,” said Ginny. “And last time I looked, he was definitely one boy, not five. What are those?”
She was pointing at a number of round balls of fluff in shades of pink and purple, all rolling around the bottom of a cage and emitting high-pitched squeaks.
“Pygmy Puffs,” said George. “Miniature puffskeins, we can’t breed them fast enough. So what about Michael Corner?”
“I dumped him, he was a bad loser,” said Ginny, putting a finger through the bars of the cage and watching the Pygmy Puffs crowd around it. “They’re really cute!”
“They’re fairly cuddly, yes,” conceded Fred. “But you’re moving through boyfriends a bit fast, aren’t you?”
Ginny turned to look at him, her hands on her hips. There was such a Mrs. Weasley-ish glare on her face that Harry was surprised Fred didn’t recoil.
“It’s none of your business. And I’ll thank you” she added angrily to Ron, who had just appeared at George’s elbow, laden with merchandise, “not to tell tales about me to these two!”
Ah, good on you for defending yourself, Ginny, but remember, Ginny stanning is prohibited because she’s been problematic in the past and is gonna be problematic in the future and that’s baaaaaaad. Careful kids, don’t get ideas. It’s problematic to like people who’ve done problematic things.
So I guess nobody can like anything or anyone now. Sorry guys. Liking things is evil, what if the thing you liked had, OR USED TO HAVE, *gasp* flaws, can’t take that risk, ohmygah.
154 notes
·
View notes
"It’s not a surprise when the Chief of Police comes out. There have been betting pools for years, and the announcement is met with mostly indifference. What is a surprise, however, is the interview that comes out alongside the announcement. The interview that is complete with a photoshoot of Lin Beifong in civilian clothes, talking about the challenges of her position. No one can remember the last time the Chief has given an interview, and the photo becomes the talk of the town."
How do you think the interview goes? What would Lin say?
link to (what i believe was) the original post of this! with some amazing art that VERY much helped me write this :DD (by @mgthejerkbender)
i was originally just gonna write a dialogue or notes for this but uh- i got a little carried away so here’s a 3687 word fic of the interview oops
CW: implications of past trauma (mentions of r@pe/s*xual assa*lt, public humiliation, not graphic at all), homophobia, sexism
fic under the cut :)
Lin walked into the room in a soft green turtleneck and dark brown pants that almost looked black without the light. There was sound equipment set up all over the place, with two armchairs in the middle of it all. A desk sat over to the side, a typewriter and paper sitting atop it. Quite a few people were rushing around, making sure that everything was in place for the broadcast. She watched a young woman sit at the desk, prepping the typewriter to transcribe the entire thing.
“Oh good, you’re here,” Lin turned to see a man in his early forties standing with a small journal behind her.
He wore a plain suit with a pale orange tie, his greying hair slicked back neatly. His eyes flitted around the room, checking things briefly for himself before focusing on Lin. He opened the notebook to a page about a quarter of the way through and smiled at Lin, nodding at the chairs behind her.
“Care to sit?” he asked, moving toward the chairs.
She took the seat farthest from where they’d just been standing, shifting to get comfortable while she waited for him to sit and get things rolling. She didn’t want to admit it, but her heart was racing. She hadn’t done anything like this is ages, especially not so casually. The topic of discussion also made her nervous, both because her job was something she rarely spoke of with anyone outside a professional context, and because of the announcement that would come with the interview. She’d encountered plenty of bigoted people in the past, and had no doubt that her officially coming out would only press them to question her position more than usual.
She picked idly at the fuzzballs on her turtleneck until the man sitting beside her cleared his throat. Her head snapped up to look at him, her body tensing briefly before seeing that he was testing the microphones. She sighed and relaxed slightly, speaking into the microphone placed before her when the sound technician prompted her to do so. Once everything seemed to be in place and ready to go, the broadcast started.
“Welcome, listeners, to tonight’s special program. I’m your host, Kaja Posicopolis, here with our esteemed Chief of Police, Lin Beifong. So, Chief, how are you on this fine night?” he started, putting on his radio voice.
“Good, I’m good,” Lin responded, leaning slightly forwards in her seat.
“That’s good to hear. I think I’ll launch right into our questions if you don’t mind, we’ve got a lot to get through tonight,” Lin nodded when he looked over to her, giving him the go ahead.
“Why don’t we start with something positive. What’s your favourite thing about your position as Chief? What about the job brings you the most joy?” he turned to watch her while waiting for her answer.
She looked at the floor for a moment, thinking before speaking.
“I think I’d have to say getting to help people. Ever since I was young I’ve wanted to protect others as much as possible, and being Chief makes that a lot easier and a lot more… legal,” he joined her when she chuckled lightly, but her smile only lasted a moment.
“Of course, I’m not perfect, and there are always times when things go wrong. I can’t say that those times don’t affect me, but I try to think of the people we as a force have helped over the years and that keeps me going,” she took a deep breath and looked to Kaja as he glanced at his notepad.
“That leads right into my next question; how do you do it? Not even your infamous mother was Chief for as long as you’ve been, and her time was already impressive. You’ve given so much to Republic City already, why, and how, do you keep giving?” there was a look of wonder and admiration on his face when he finished the question.
“I grew up in Republic City. It always has been, and will be, my home. And who doesn’t want to protect their home? I think that as long as I live here, I’ll be working to do anything in my power to help the city. I hate watching neighborhoods suffer… actually, I’m working on a plan with President Moon at the moment with the hopes of helping out the poorer parts of the city, providing homes for the homeless, all that good stuff. I just want to see Republic City thriving, and I want to help it get to that point. As I said before, it’s my home; everyone here is part of a community, a family, if you will, and that means everything to me,” Lin leaned back, resting against the cushion behind her, setting her right foot on her left knee.
“That’s a beautiful sentiment, thank you. I love the idea of the city being one big family, and that project sounds like it’ll be very good for the future of Republic City,” Kaja turned his gaze back to his notes, stopping the conversation briefly.
“The next question I have here is less uppity; what has your biggest struggle been with regards to your job?”
“That’s a hard one,” she paused. “I’ve had many struggles with work over my years as Chief, but I think of everything that’s happened… being a woman, and a queer one at that, has definetly taken it’s toll. Other things have been more directly challenging, but that’s been present since day one.”
“Would you care to elaborate on that?” he prompted leaning slightly towards her.
She inhaled and held her breath for a split second before sighing lightly.
“Sure, why not,” she gave a small smile to Kaja before starting.
“When I was much younger, just starting out in the force, I could already see the inherent bias against women that so many male officers held. My mother wasn’t immune to their verbal attacks, though she would give them a good… sparring match, lets say, if they ever so much as laid a finger on her. After a few times, that generally stopped happening, but people would still talk. The number of disgusting, awful things I heard coming from some of those men…” she huffed and shifted in her seat, putting one elbow on her armrest and resting her head on her hand.
“Anyway, I started to pay attention to every little thing. I noticed how many male politicians talked down to my mother, and not because of her blindness. Even a few of the men on our own council at the time would treat her as less-than for no apparent reason.
“I saw it happening in my own life and career, too. How my male counterparts got the promotion before I was even considered, despite performing just as well as them, if not better. How I was never asked for input on supposedly collective decisions or plans, and if I was or tried to interject, I was almost always dismissed. It seemed like any man of higher or equal rank to me thought I was some… assistant to bring him coffee and reports and not do any actual work.
“Seeing that attitude so often pissed me off. I made it my mission to prove myself beyond what was necessary. I wanted to show them that I could do anything they could just as well, sometimes even better. My work paid off eventually and I began to climb the ranks, not letting myself rest for a second. And I wanted to help people as well, of course, but it started out more as wanting to teach those bastards a lesson,” she moved again, uncrossing her legs and leaning forward on her elbows.
“Once I became Chief, a lot of people seemed determined to put me down. Practically every man, be he politician or merchant on the street, told me something insinuating that I was handed the position just because my mother was Chief before me. Every time I wanted to yell at them, to show them records of how hard I’d worked to get there, how much harder I’d had to work than most of my colleagues. With the politicians and other major figureheads, how much harder I’d had to work than they probably had.
“It was frustrating, but I got used to it. It was a constant that came with working a so-called, and I’m not making this up, it’s been said directly to my face before, ‘Man’s job’,” she stopped for a moment and looked over at Kaja, who was staring at her in disbelief.
She couldn’t help but let out a small laugh at his expression before looking back down and continuing.
“There was also the issue of my queerness,” she shook her head and took a deep breath, sitting back as she continued.
“I started working as a proper officer when I was about eighteen. Within my first year working, I was-,” she closed her eyes and clenched her teeth for a second.
“I had an encounter with a man, an older officer who was overseeing the training group I was a part of. He tried to initiate certain… activities with me, none of which I wanted to partake in. I did manage to get rid of him and filed a report against him, but it wasn’t the last time it happened.
“I was a pretty regular customer at a few of the underground bars for people like me at the time. I did my best to hide my face when I left, but there were always times I was careless, or somebody saw me in the seconds I let my guard down. Usually it was no big deal, but occasionally it was someone from work. Once, it was that man.
���He found me at work the next day and asked me about it. Yelled at me, really. He tried to make it seem like that’s why I’d denied him, and the names he called me weren’t pretty to say the least. He started to physically attack me, throwing punch after punch and not giving me the slightest chance to fight back.
“After that day, I stopped going to those bars altogether. The first time I went back to one was actually just a few years ago. I started dating Tenzin a few years later, and though people weren’t so outwardly expressive of their opinions on my relationships, the disapproval was still present.
“By the time Tenzin and I split up, I think some people still suspected my queerness, but it wasn’t a widely adopted theory. I had my fair share of men approach me, some with better intentions than others, and turned down most of them. Some of them didn’t react all that well, and I ended up filing several more reports. I don’t think any of them actually got charged, though.
“I entertained short romances with some men, some women too. Nothing stuck, not really anyway. I kept every relationship very quiet, including those with men, just for the sake of privacy. When I was with women, it was also to avoid getting hate-crimed, but I really did prefer to keep at least some things private.
“In the context of work, there were also challenges. That first superior to try getting at me like that must’ve talked, telling anyone who would listen about my excursions to the underground bars. People looked at me oddly in just about any shared workspace there was, though a few times I made friends because of it. Those were always good times, even if few and far between.
“Some people just gave a judgemental stare or vaguely rude comment every so often, but a few others took it further. Much further,” she looked up to the ceiling as she recalled another story.
“I had a supervisor when I was probably about, oh, twenty seven or so. He was a few ranks below my mother, and I one below him. He decided that one day it would be absolutely hysterical to cover my desk in obscene printed images of women I didn’t recognize, along with toys of a certain nature. I was mortified when I came in and saw the spectacle. The worst part was that almost everyone working in that part of the building at the time laughed with him, and those who didn’t weren’t exactly helpful.
“I didn’t come back to work for a week after that. It was awful, his stupid prank making me so shamed of who I was, who I loved. I know now that my loving both women and men isn’t a bad thing, and is simply part of me. It was harder to accept that, to accept myself, when I saw people like him in positions of power over me.
“I kept working though, and there was never an incident quite like that one again. A few others were more directly hateful than most, but it was easier to deal with. As with people treating me as less because of my gender, I got used to it,” she turned to Kaja, a hint of guilt on her face after talking for so long.
He shook his head, disbelief still spread across his face. His eyes flitted back and forth between floor tiles as he searched for the right words to respond.
“That sounds awful. I’m so sorry you had to deal with people like that,” he looked back up at Lin.
“So am I,” she scoffed, her fingers picking at her turtleneck again.
There was a small silence before Kaja looked back down at his notepad and then at the clock on the wall.
“We’ve got enough time for one last question, so is there anything you’d like to tell young women and queer people living in the city?” His expression was almost hopeful now, desperate to end off on a lighter note.
Lin smiled in amusement at him before looking down at her hands, fiddling her thumbs in her lap. After a moment, she looked back up at him and started speaking again.
“Absolutely,” she began, her gaze drifting around the room and landing on each individual at least once.
“To all the women working your asses off in the workforce: stand up for yourself. Don’t let any man devalue you because of your gender. Be the best you can be and wipe the smiles clean off their faces as you do it. Start your own businesses, get that promotion, set goals for yourself and fly past them. You can do just about anything you put your mind to, despite what many men might say,” her voice was strong, almost commanding as she began her final statement.
“And to all the young queer people out there; you are so, so strong. Keep loving each other, keep being yourselves. I know how awful people can be, but their opinions do not define you. You are perfect exactly as you are, and nothing can change that. It might seem like it’ll never be true, but I believe we will live in a time when acceptance is the norm. I believe that that time, with hard work and patience with those who need teaching, will be here soon.”
“Perfect. Thank you so much for your time, Chief,” Kaja said, looking at the clock again.
“Thank you for having me,” Lin replied, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath.
“And with that, folks, we wrap up today’s special broadcast. I’ll be back in the studio tomorrow resuming our usual radio program. Until then, I’m Kaja Posicopolis, and this is eighty six point four, your favourite music station,” Kaja finished, staying silent for a few seconds until a man from across the room nodded at him.
He rolled his head around and got up from his chair, setting his notepad down behind him.
“How are you now?” he asked Lin as he stretched his arms out and cracked his back.
Lin scoffed and stood, going through a couple of her own stretches. She straightened her shirt and tucked a few stray hairs back before responding.
“I feel like I just stood naked in front of the entire city,” she said, unable to hold back a small smile when Kaja laughed.
“Well, we’re about to expose you even more. You ready for the photo shoot?” he grabbed his notebook and pen and closed them, watching Lin for an answer.
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Lin sighed before following him out of the room.
They walked down several long hallways, eventually coming to a large open room. The walls and floor were a pale grey cement, and there were expensive looking lights set up all over the place. A dark green upholstered bench sat to one side of the room, a tall light shining down on it. A few people saw them coming in and rushed around, turning off almost every other light. One of them knocked on a door that was on the other end of the room, calling for someone inside.
“This seems a bit excessive,” Lin muttered, her eyes wandering the room.
“Only the best for you, Chief,” a man said from somewhere in the shadows.
Lin glanced behind her only to see Kaja talking to someone near the door. When she turned back to where the voice had come from, she had to bite back a laugh. She tried not to, but couldn’t help smiling at the absolute glow that radiated from the man in front of her.
“You like my outfit?” he asked with a grin, twirling around for her.
He had on bright red fit-and-flare pants with a stripe of gold sequins down their side; a matching red low-cut tank top; a purple feather-covered knee-length jacket; gold sparkly platform shoes that made him tower over Lin more than he already would have; and a top hat that belonged with a businessman’s black tie attire.
“It’s incredible,” Lin chuckled, crossing her arms casually over her chest.
“You look sharp yourself today, Chief,” he said with a grin, taking a few steps towards her.
Before she could object, he pulled her into a tight hug. His arms squashed her face against his lower chest, making Lin painfully aware of the extent of their height difference. She laughed and patted his arm, thankfully getting him to release her.
“I’m assuming you’re the photographer, then?” she asked, grinning up at him.
He nodded enthusiastically and spun on his heel, walking back into the darkness. She heard a couple of small crashes and a string of profanities before he came back, a large camera and it’s stand filling his arms.
“Uh- where am I going?” he asked Lin, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye.
She let out a small laugh and stepped towards him, placing her hand on his arm. She guided him towards the bench setup, stopping them near where the light stood.
“Thank you, thank you!” he exclaimed, setting down the camera’s stand first and then fastening the camera to it.
“Of course,” Lin breathed, suddenly nervous to have her photo taken.
The photographer immediately noticed her mood change and put his hands on her shoulders.
“Don’t worry, I’ll make you look,” he closed his eyes and blew a chef's kiss to the side.
Lin nodded and took a deep breath, filling her lungs as much as she could before letting it all out. The photographer made a few adjustments to the camera stand, making sure it would stay while he got her in position, and then led her to the bench. He sat her down in the middle of it and walked back to his camera, dragging the stand loudly over so he was more to her right.
“Don’t be so stiff,” he called, looking at her through the viewfinder and flapping his hand in the air.
“Just- pretend I’m not here, you’re just sitting at home listening to the radio.”
He stepped back from the camera and watched Lin as she settled her head on her left fist with her right elbow on her knee. The photographer gave her a big thumbs up, calling “Much better!” and going back to looking through his camera.
He shifted it a few times before taking any photos, wanting to get it right in as few shots as possible considering the price and rarity of film in stores. Lin looked at the camera for the first few, looking away because of her boredom growing steadily. When he seemed satisfied with the shots, he took the camera off the stand and walked over to the bench.
“Room for another?” he asked, not letting Lin answer before settling himself beside her.
The images printed slowly, one at a time. After each was out, he placed them in the shadow under the bench to protect them from overexposure. Once the last one printed, he reached down and grabbed the first. It had settled well, the colours coming out nice and bright.
“It’s perfect,” Lin gasped, staring in wonder at the photo that managed to make her alright with how she looked out-of-uniform.
The photographer grinned at her, holding the photo up.
“I agree,” he said proudly, forgetting his other photos and standing.
Lin watched as he brought the photo to Kaja, engaging the shorter man in a quick and lively discussion before handing off the photo and walking back. He grinned ear to ear at her, and she sighed before relenting and giving a small smile back.
“Nervous, Chief?” he asked, standing before her with his hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket.
Lin chuckled and shook her head.
“I just haven’t done something like this in ages… or ever, really,” she said, her hands moving to grip the edge of the bench.
“Hey,” the photographer moved to place a hand on her shoulder, prompting her to look up at him.
“You’re doing great, Chief, trust me,” Lin let out a breath and really smiled at him this time.
“Thank you,” she said quietly, meaning it with every ounce of her being.
67 notes
·
View notes
Part 2
Disclaimer: This post is in favor of my ship, Elriel. No hate, just an opinion. This is what makes sense to me. If this isn't your cup of tea, and it came up on your feed, no worries just skip please.
With all this in mind Elriel to me just seems so clear.
The enemy is Koschei and Vassa is the only one to be directly linked to and affected by him so she will be the one to defeat him, plan and give us insight from the inside because she is the one who is captive. She has a personal interest in defeating him and that victory and moment is rightfully hers to own.
She will get a book. Her being a firebird means nothing? why would people assume she won't have a conscious while in that form when Rhys, Tamlin and Helion do? Why do people believe that a story cant be developed and moved along as a firebird? Has any one ever read a werewolf book? Im soooo confused. I mean why is that a end all? Even as a firebird she can see and reveal so much, and as a person even more.
The main original characters that have a direct link to Feyre from the very beginning before Hybern, Amarantha, and ACOWAR are Nesta, Elain and Lucien. Those are the characters that make the most sense to have their own book. Not Tamlin who is of no importance to Feyre anymore. Who is of importance and who where her first family Lucien basically becoming her first brother. She is always concerned for these people. If you take a look at all of Feyre’s POV in ACOFAS its always showcasing her concern or confusion for Her sisters, Lucien and even Mor (possible novella). These three individuals (N&E&L) are the ones she has an original relationship with and the most history, a shaky relationship that has room to be improved on. These are the wildcards, the ones who have wronged her in some way, the ones who’s stories NEED to be told. Three different people three different stories.
If you also take a look at Rhys’ POV in order, you realize he talks to or refers to 5 people usually:
Cassian, Azriel, Mor, Tamlin & Lucien
Each of these first 5 POV also directly touches on what issues exactly are pertaining to them or could be pertaining to them if that had their own book OR how they may contribute to the whole over arching plot.
If we conclude everything from those first 5 chapters ( I'm not including the rest because its too much, and they also include these 5 characters regardless) of importance this is what we have and what each book may touch on.
1st POV: involves
-Cassian - Illyrian dissent, inequality, Nesta, queen Braiylln, training female Illyrians,
-Cassian’s role
2nd POV: involves
-Azriel-shadows/powers strength, Az’s past, confusion on shadowsinger abilities, Illyrian dissent/hate, Human queens, Hyberns people, Human lands, Vassa’s situation,
-Az’z emotions (& concealing of emotions) on : Lucien, Elain, Possibly Az’s mom and her whereabouts (Rosehall).
3rd POV:
-Tamlin/Lucien-SC and Tamlin current state and down fall, alliance with Tamlin, peace/future, Lucien’s and Tamlin’s relationship, Anger/Hate/Remorse/Defeat/Hope/Empty, Feyre
-Feyre-Tamlin, Rhys’ actions and remorse
-Jeweler(Neve)-no jewels for Feyre, Neve’s background
4th POV:
-Velaris estates along the Sidra before and after hybern,
-Mor: Rhys and mor’s relationship currently, Kier/Eris/CoN
-The CoN people occupied the Velaris estates (they left Hewn City before the division of the NC)
-Kiers upcoming visit to Velaris in Spring (the hewn city’s containment and curiosity)
-Mor’s Mother/ desire to leave the NC
-Mor’s Role
Rhys’ 1st POV which included Cassian and Cassian’s following POV/Chapter was a foreshadow to ACOSF completely. Everything touched was basically addressed in ACOSF. Rhys basically told Mor and Cassian to assume different jobs and roles (to lessen Azriel’s world load) in their chapters which came true in ACOSF.
A bond between Elain and Lucien does not mean they will have a book. If I'm honest they remind me a little of Nesyrn and Chaol who seemed like with time something could blossom between them but in reality just weren't for one another and were better off as friends. All that connects these two is an unwanted bond, a person they both have wronged yet care about (Feyre) and an incident that resulted in Elain’s trauma. Everyone thought Elain who is literally everything to Nesta, who Nesta would have sacrificed everything for, would be more involved, yet she wasn't even present in the majority of Nesta’s book, at least not as present as we thought she would be. But she was mentioned throughout ACOSF nearly in every chapter because Elain does and has impacted Nesta’s life completely.This is something I expect to happen for Elain’s book as well. Yes Lucien will appear but perhaps the purpose of his appearance would be to get closure and fill in questions left unanswered. If ACOTAR 5 is an Elriel book and not ACOTAR 6 then her book will also serve to set up for his book with Vassa.
Feyre’s relationship with the IC is fine and any issues can be resolved in the books of the others (like for example as Love interests) or in a novella.
Cassian had a POV, the second main role in ACOSF but.. ACOSF was Nesta’s story.
The same can be said for Elriel’s book as well as Vassien’s.
And yes a male can have a book like Chaol did but in my opinion it won't be Az with Gwyn being the second main POV. It will be Lucien with Vassa who has far more ties to the IC and to the over arching plot. Vassa at least has met Feyre the main character of the whole ACOTAR world.
Hypothetically speaking lets say Az does get a book and ends up with Gwyn and the plot is about the Illyrian camp. Their story would most likely be written as a novella if anything not an actual book, there is not many ties that Gwyn has so far to the whole plot at least not yet. But getting a novella still wouldn't make sense when we have characters, who are not only closer to the plot but also provide an opportunity to get info/support to win this war, like Mor who is spending time in Vallahan, and Tamlin who’s literal court is not only in shambles but unfortunately detrimental to the success of attaining peace.
I do think Gwyn is more important to this plot then most give her credit for but I dont believe that necessarily means shes due a book or a main POV especially over Vassa. And Emerie.
Vassa who has direct link to koschei the main issue, point and villain of the plot and Emerie who has a direct link to Illyria and its backward ways in everything most importantly on its stance of women and their roles.
SJM Set Elriel to be endgame because it just makes the most sense. Not only because of their connection, moments and relationship thus far but because that's what makes the most sense with this plot. There’s no spinoff in the works.
There’s no reason for Gwyn or ANYONE for that matter to be the one to defeat koschei over Vassa, no reason to have the hugest wedge between Elucien while building a bridge for Elriel, no reason to build and hint for Mor’s leave and put emphasis on Tamlin & the SC’s dire situation.
Has anyone considered if Lucien wants to even be HL ?
Lucien’s future as a highlord comes down to if he even wants to even become the Day Court’s High lord in the first place.
Lucien thought less of humans and was indifferent to them in ACOTAR yet now has found a home and friends among them. ‘
Truthfully the BOE’s work in the same way that the IC does and the Valkyerie.
Actually scratch that the Valkyerie work exactly like the BOE’s.
Yet can anyone imagine any of the Valkyrie leaving their group or be far from each other especially if one of their member’s is their possible love interest ?
They will choose each other and they will create a future where they are all together.
I don’t see lucien who has finally found stability and friends leaving the BOE’s to play high lord at Day court unless Vassa and Jurian decide to leave with him. Which seems unlikely. The only way I see that happening is if vassien truly becomes endgame resulting in Vassa going to Day court. But where does that leave Jurian.
I believe that after the Beron and AC issues are resolved, that Eris will ascend and become HL, Lady Autumn will leave to be FINALLY with Helion to be Lady Day 😍, and Lucien can enjoy his life in the mean time with his found family, stay as an emissary and possibly prepare to be Day’s HL down the line in the future.
48 notes
·
View notes
The short and very miserable life of Napoleon II, aka the Eaglet, aka Franz, Duke of Reichstadt: PART THREE
So there’s a lot of controversy over the exact nature of Franz and Sophie’s friendship. At the time, it was was rumored they became lovers. Satirical prints of the two were even published. But I’ve browsed a few recent-ish books about the Habsburgs, and they don’t seem to think the idea of a Franz/Sophie affair holds a lot of water. However, Aubry thinks it’s possible— even probable.
He took refuge in his tenderness for his young aunt, Sophie. She was still the woman whom he preferred. Perhaps she was his only love, the one to whom he owed his first embrace and the one who best satisfied him. She had been at first nothing but an elder sister. In his empty boyhood she had given him the only warmth of friendship he had known. Become a man he had asked for more, and Sophie consented, it is said.
They saw each other everyday at the Hofburg, in the little salon belonging to the Archduchess. It was always towards evening when he was tired from his work or his horseback rides and she relaxed from duties of the court. Oftentimes they would be alone, and they would take their tea by lamplight, reading aloud or talking over the happenings of the day. Reichstadt gave Sophie his full confidence. She knew his anxieties and his bitternesses and she gave him back his courage. She would place her fingers on his forehead, and stoke his hair, which shone like silk in the dim light. He would look back at her with quiet happiness, and she would smile back at him as she sat there in a low-cut gown, the coils of her hair caught up in a veil of white lace, and around her throat a ribbon of black velvet with a pendant, which was a miniature of her father, King Maximilian of Bavaria. [Aubry pg 215]
Aubry paints a compelling picture of Sophie’s restless, clear-eyed youth, intelligence, strong will, and free, simple, natural ways, which stood out like a star against the stultifying pomposity of the Habsburg court. Not surprisingly, she hated her husband, a coarse blockhead mainly obsessed with hunting. She spent every hour she could with Franz, driving in the Prater, breakfasting together, or walking in the garden, often accompanied by Sophie’s son Franz Joseph (Sissi’s future husband). Like his father, Franz loved children and was great with them. Add his intelligence, passion, and incredible good looks, I would not blame Sophie one bit if she’d had an affair with Franz.
Aubry also points out that at Schoenbrunn, Franz’s quarters were directly above Sophie’s, and connected through “a little staircase unknown to any chamberlain.” They also spent many afternoons completely alone.
They would venture through the Tyrolian garden to the limits of the vast wooded park and on out into that smiling countryside where vineclad hills gently rise above meadows, patches of woods and cultivated fields. There they spent the most beautiful hours in their lives, talking less of the future and of glory, we may be sure, than of the present and of love. No definite information as to these meetings have survived. All that is known from authentic documents is that they were frequent in the summer of 1831. Nor is there any trace, either, in spite of careful searches, of a correspondence between Reichstadt and Sophie. The Archduchess died at an advanced age, after a checkered career. She must have taken care to leave nothing behind her. The archives of the Hofburg show only the mother, and the princess interested in questions of State. [Aubry pg 217]
Aubry then considers the contention that Sophie’s son Maximilian was actually fathered by Franz. Aubry thinks it’s at least possible, but I don’t think it is. Just look at pictures of the guy— he’s 100% Habsburg. He looks exactly like Franz Karl. The Bonaparte seed is strong; if Napoleon was Maximilian’s grandfather, you’d be able to see it somewhere. But you can’t.
Anyway, after the golden summer of 1831— probably the second happiest period of Franz’s life, after his childhood—it was all downhill from there. Very, very downhill.
Franz’s lung issues came back with a vengeance. It didn’t help his main doctor at this point was a foppish Italian obsessed with liver ailments— he thought all of Franz’s problems stemmed from— what else?— the liver. That winter Franz became major of an infantry regiment stationed in Vienna, and distinguished himself drilling his men to perfection. Which is kind of sad, really; but that’s all he was allowed to do, be a parade-ground soldier who never got his uniform dirty. He ate little, and slept less, so eager to show that he could be a real soldier, like his father. His health plummeted, and he contracted a catarrhal fever. The Imperial family gathered around Franz— except for Marie Louise, who was too busy back with her little court at Parma, “nibbling bonbons at the Opera.” Of course she protested her “cruel anxiety” about Franz’s welfare, but she wasn’t about to go anywhere. After all, she couldn’t think of endangering her own “precious health” journeying to Vienna.
Reichstadt must have felt the desertion keenly, but he voiced no bitterness. He had grown accustomed to suffering in silence, and those who forgot him, he tried to forget. [Aubry pg. 224.]
So, once again, Marie Louise disappointed her son. But Franz had Sophie; and he also had Prokesch back, who had happily returned after Metternich forced him to go to Bologna (Metternich didn’t trust Prokesch, and did his best to keep the two friends apart). The two men now knew the full stranglehold that Metternich had on the monarchy. Franz would not even be able to take a single trip away, not even for his health. It was do or die.
The two concocted a plan, and it was a decent one. Once he’d recovered, at winter in Vienna, he would be able to slip away from the secret police, as he had when romancing Naudine Karolyi. “He and Prokesch would reach Styria or the Tyrol in disguise and from there, taking advantage of connections which the major would try to establish in a preliminary reconnoissance, they would reach the Papal States where the Duke would ask asylum of the Pope.” Letizia Bonaparte and Lucien, who lived there comfortably, the Pope deferring to them, had money and connections. “Sheltered by the head of the Church and his grandmother, on a soil not only neutral but sacred, he would be free to complete his novitiate for the throne. Prokesch foresaw that it would be not a very long one. He predicted the fall of Louis-Phillippe in two or three years at most, and after a period of anarchy, the return of Napoleon II by agreement between France and the Powers.” [Aubry pg 232]
Alas! Metternich caught wind of the scheme, and banished Prokesch to Rome in January of 1832. What a blow this was! But the major agreed he could use the circumstances to do the agreed reconnoissance and meet in secret with Madame Mère. The two men parted with great emotion.
But this is the last time they would ever see each other. By the next summer, Franz would be dead.
* * *
After the departure of one of his only friends in the world, depression overwhelmed Franz again. It didn’t help when he received a letter from Napoleon’s last valet, Marchand, who had been trying for years to contact Franz about a few items of “sentimental value” that Napoleon had left for his son. But there was a note from Metternich on the letter, that briskly said “no attention could be paid to Marchand’s request.”
And that was it. Franz knew had no recourse. He wouldn’t even be able to get his father’s coffee service. How petty, how disgusting, how mean Metternich was! Napoleon had been dead for over a decade; why couldn’t he have one single sentimental item left to him in his will? Was it that important? That much of a matter of importance to the State, to the bloody Holy Alliance, that he couldn’t hold the same coffee cup that his father held?
And bitterness ate away at him. He was only 21, but he felt so old. He hated humanity. He hated himself. He wondered why he was still alive. Perhaps he would have been better off if he had died as a child. He had expected so much of the future— but there was nothing but the coldness and emptiness of an eternal prison.
Despair ate at him like a worm. And he grew sick. And sicker. He coughed and sweated and grew weaker by the day. His doctor’s liver medicines did nothing, and then bleeding did less, and Metternich kept refusing to see Franz moved to a warmer climate.
The Chancellor was pleased by the turn of events, of course. “He sent world to all the embassies, and Marshal Maison was asked to inform his government, that ‘the condition of the Duke of Reichstadt was so serious that his mother has been informed.’” [Aubry pg 244]
A pregnant Sophie, at last returned from her tour of Hungary, did her best to nurse him. “She sat down at his bedside and hushed him whenever he tried to speak. She would read aloud to him and it was she thereafter who gave him his medicines and guarded his door from any importunate intrusion.” [Aubry pg 245]
Franz still worsened. The Emperor was not present; he was detained in Trieste, and when he returned to Austria, he avoided Vienna, staying at the summer castle of Persenbeug, along with the “ninny” Ferdinand and the blockhead Franz Karl, while Francis’s wife claimed that seeing his dying grandson would have a deleterious effect on his health. Count Dietrichstein also decided to leave, on the excuse of his daughter’s confinement. Aubry says:
He must have known that Reichstadt was lost. Could he just have been an indifferent soul underneath his courtesy and his outward expressions of affectionate anxiety? He may have been. Count Maurice Dietrichstein was born a sensitive man and an artist, but life at Court had dried him up, undoubtedly leaving him in the end with the heart of a chamberlain. He forgot his former pupil at his daughter’s bedside and allowed him to die without a word of friendship. [Aubry pg 250]
For Franz, it was a slow, agonizing death march, punctuated by an an abcess in his lungs rupturing— and a final communion taken with Sophie at his side, in what Aubry compares to a “mystic marriage.” Louise arrived at last, after dithering over her departure, claiming “slight indispositions” as a reason for not leaving sooner, and then coming to Vienna via “easy stages” over the course of a fortnight. Of course, when she saw how badly off her son was, emaciated and hacking up blood, she began to cry.
There with that spectre of the hollow eyes before her she may perhaps have understood at last the true identity of that youth whom she had neglected for two years, and how guilty she had been all along toward him. She alone could have protected her child against Metternich’s policy and against himself. She could have saved him from those years of moral anguish and that tragic solitude which had ruined his health sooner and even more than any disease. That in her weakness she had lost him a throne might be excused, but however cowardly as an Empress, she might have shown herself a good mother. Vienna was her true place but she had preferred Parma with its ease, deserting the son of the greatest man in her age to sate her voluptuousness in the arms of her lover, nibble bonbons and preside over well-served dinners. [Aubry pgs 252-252]
Of course, Metternich made sure to look in on Franz while he was dying.
Through a half-open door however the Chancellor was allowed to see the patient in his bed. He gazed for a moment, then turned and walked away without a tremor, without a word of sympathy for the mother and doubtless without any remorse. [Aubry pg 255]
Franz knew he would die. “Must I end so young,” he said, “A life that is useless and without a name? Ma naissance et ma mort, voilà toute mon histoire. Entre mon berceau et ma tombe, il y a un grand zéro.” He did not quite say that on his deathbed, but it was close. Very, very close.
It took monumental efforts to keep Franz alive at this point. He was a barely breathing corpse. He could not swallow food; his throat had swollen up; his coughing seem to tear his body apart; and he could barely sup barley-water and milk. He had even been given mother’s milk at one point. His legs were swollen, and he was cold as ice. Deprived of his dearest friend Prokesch, who was meeting with Letizia and Lucien in Rome, his fellow captains in his regiment stood by his bedside.
The end came on the morning of July 21st— a thunderstorm brewed in the air, the air damp and thick and charged. He cried out— “death! I want nothing but death!” — and then— “Harness the horses! I must go to meet my father! I must embrace him once more!”
Then he whispered: “How I am suffering! When will this sad existence end?” [Aubry pg 260]
At last, he called, gasping, sweating, for his mother. (Sophie, still recovering from childbirth, was left to sleep, something which she never forgot.) Louise was brought in at the last minute, and managed to faint dead away in the middle of the room, completely prostrate on the floor. I’m imagining the priest having to step over her for his last rites, but apparently she managed to get to her knees by the bed just in time for Franz to look at her. That, one instant, and then he stopped breathing altogether.
Franz’s grandfather, back in Persenbeug, away from any inconveniently dead grandsons, called Franz’s death a possible blessing for Europe.
As for Sophie, once the news was broken “delicately” to her…
…she lost consciousness for several hours and the attack was followed by a high fever. Her milk dried up. For several days her life was despaired of. She gradually recovered. Those who knew her thereafter no longer found the gay and simple Archduchess. All the gentleness seemed to have left her. There was a sting in everything she said. The truth was that her youth had died with Reichstadt. She was to have intrigues, love affairs, ambitions, cares of State. But she had changed in spirit, or rather she had attained in a few days the mood of her maturity, with, in her heart’s depth, a regret and a bitterness which would endure until her death, five years after the disaster of her son Maximilian. [Aubry pg 265]
* * *
And so ends my recap of Aubry’s King of Rome. Ugh, this could have been more depressing!? Anyway, I’ll write an epilogue soon explaining what happened to everyone after Franz’s death.
Part One
Part Two
62 notes
·
View notes
Post Arkhelios
Adam stayed by his nephew’s side as long as he was allowed. He hadn’t been allowed in the operating room, but there was no removing him from the recovery area.
The bullet had gone clean through Roman’s chest, so fortunately there was nothing to remove, and once the bullet was found, it could easily be compared to the one that had killed Abraham Helios. Roman had lost a lot of blood, and there was still considerable damage caused by the bullet, but everyone agreed that he’d likely recover from this attack. Malika had stumbled upon him in just enough time to save him.
Malika had been equally difficult to remove from the recovery area. Adam at least had staff privileges, while Malika was in the recovery area by sheer force of will. No one dared escort her out when she was that intense about staying. The hospital hadn’t really hired any security in the past decade since their previous most serious case had been Zane Hydes eating fifty grilled cheese sandwiches in one night and becoming quite ill from it. They’d never needed security to take on family members overstepping proper procedures before. At least both Wanda and Salem were directly impacted by Roman’s shooting, and probably would approve any budget increase the hospital asked for.
There had been another positive change caused by the shooting. Malika had actually embraced her son Adam, and he may have been hallucinating it, but he thought he may have heard her whisper that she was proud of him. After years of her being indifferent at best towards him, Adam wasn’t sure he knew how to process this sudden display of maternal praise.
Omar and Kamalani were so beside themselves with worry, they didn’t even bicker with each other as they sat next to their unconscious son. Omar left his spouses and kids at home for obvious reasons, but Wbuna had sent along homemade muffins to supplement the horrible cafeteria food in support of the family. Salem had eaten a few before Malika’s arm had “slipped” and dropped them in the trash.
“I should have had him living with me,” Omar groaned finally. “This would never have happened if I-”
“If what?” Kamalani snapped. “What would you have done? What have you ever done?”
“What have I done? I didn’t abandon him for months without any explanation or even a goodbye.”
“No, you just let your incompetent parents raise him for you, until he let a Helios seduce him into breaking-”
“Kamalani!” Malika’s voice cut across the room sharply and her ex-daughter in law’s mouth snapped closed immediately. The two women shared a knowing stare that Omar couldn’t interpret.
“Well, I’ll be fighting to get custody of him again. He’s going to need his father more than ever after this,” he declared and nearly everyone in the room tried to stifle a laugh.
“Oh honey, we all appreciate you trying to lighten the mood, but now isn’t the time for joking,” Malika chided, tousling his hair like he was still ten years old.
Someone needed to hold down the fort at the Bellamy home, and Wanda and Hunter volunteered. They chased off some reporters, and checked in every hour with the hospital, but were otherwise left alone with their thoughts.
“This is all so crazy,” Wanda said. “Nothing makes sense.”
“I know, who would want to shoot Roman? He’s just a kid.”
Wanda wasn’t entirely sure about how to broach the subject of motive with her husband. She’d been having doubts for weeks now about anything concerning Roman’s recent troubles. Kamalani was as rude to her as the blood related Bellamys, and it was no surprise that Malika had Kamalani around more than her actual son. The two of them were both vipers hiding behind a deception of sincerity. But what were their real motives? Wanda got to be included in simple things like summoning Roman, but was left out of their private tea times, and whispered conversations in the yard.
“Don’t you think it’s strange that the person who killed Abraham shot to kill him, and then shot Roman clear of any major arteries or organs?”
Hunter frowned.
“Maybe they were a lousy shot,” he replied. “It doesn’t matter, I’m just thankful that he’s going to pull through this. He could have just as easily bled out.”
Wanda picked at the corner of one of her nails absently. This needed to be said in the right way.
“Don’t you think it’s odd that your mother was walking in Factory Park so late at night, just in time to find Roman?”
Hunter’s frown grew deeper.
“No, she got a text message from the killer. That’s why Roman went too. She’s lucky to not have been a victim as well.”
“I know, but she...” Wanda paused and changed tactics. “Have you noticed anything strange happening lately? Especially around Roman? I saw him throwing chairs at his bedroom window the other day, trying to break the glass.”
Hunter shrugged.
“He’s a troubled kid,” he replied. “A lot’s changing in his life and he’s acting out.”
Wanda shook her head adamantly.
“No, it’s more than that. Kamalani and your mother talk about him all the time, but stop talking the instant I get close to them. He’s been cooped up in this house for several weeks, and never once left to see Abe who lives basically down the street. You’re telling me that Roman, the boy who runs away from everything, stayed voluntarily in this house when he could be sneaking out to see his boyfriend?”
Hunter’s shoulders stiffened, and Wanda knew she’d pushed a bit too hard, too quickly.
“What are you saying? That Roman should have died because Abraham died? That my nephew is usually out roaming the streets looking to impregnate other teens and him trying to spend a time of crisis with our family for support is suspicious?”
“Yes!” Wanda blurted out, too frustrated to care anymore. “Yes, he should have died! Just like my brother died! Your mother had no time to see and react to the text and still make it to that park in time to save him.” Her hands clenched into fists. “This family is insane, and it would be insane to expect support from them! Your brothers are thrown out of your family now, but they were never really included in the family before! Who lets their son’s ex-wife stay in their house, while shunning their son? Omar’s a bit dull, but he’s way better than Kamalani! And Roman has been a budding sociopath as long as he’s lived with your parents. He has no friends his age, and keeps condoms that he uses with someone in his wallet. For god’s sake, you could tell me that he shot Abraham and I would believe it. I try and I try with that kid, and nothing outside of being with Abe seems to get through to him. No wonder both of his parents abandoned him here!”
Wanda was practically hyperventilating. All of her frustrations, all the little micro aggressions she’d had to endure while living here spilled out of her, and for the first time in months, her chest didn’t feel burdened down by the Bellamy family.
Hunter said nothing, but Wanda could see the anger burning in his eyes. He stood up slowly and headed for the hall.
“It’s been a very stressful night, and tensions are running high,” he stated with the same bitter edge to his voice as his mother. “I think that maybe it would be for the best if you spent the night with Melvin. To clear your head.”
Wanda rested her head against the smooth wall outside of the hospital main entrance. She and Hunter had never really fought before, and she didn’t like feeling out of sync with him. There was so much adding up that she didn’t understand about the Bellamys, and about Arkhelios itself. Maybe a night apart would help give Hunter some perspective on his family. Maybe it would help her decide if she truly wanted to be a part of the Bellamy family at all. She would go spend the night on Melvin’s couch, and they would put their heads together and solve this nightmare once and for all. The constant stream of funerals had to end before the entire population of Arkhelios was buried in the church yard.
Still, she felt bad about what she’d said about Roman, especially since he was still in such bad shape. Could she be wrong about having suspicions about his injuries? Maybe he had just been luckier than Abraham and she was forcing connections to help her cope with how her brother had not been quite so lucky. She decided to pop in to see Roman quickly before she headed to Melvin’s just to ease her guilt. Maybe supporting the Bellamys when their guard was down was the key to winning them over. If they endured this all together, they would have some common ground to work with.
The hospital wasn’t very big, and had a limited amount of rooms for Roman to be in. She found Salem and Omar napping on couches in a waiting area, with several empty styrofoam cups of hospital coffee strewn across a nearby table.
Well if they’re able to sleep, that probably means Roman is doing okay.
She peeked into the first room on the left. Nope. Empty.
She wandered to the next room down the hall. No, no Roman. She was about to continue her search when she heard familiar voices echo down the hall. Malika was crying to the point of actual sobs, which made Wanda extremely uncomfortable. Malika never broke down and showed her feelings, especially if they made her look vulnerable. It felt like an intrusion to hear her in this state, but this brief glimpse into Malika’s actual feelings may be the only chance Wanda ever got to understand her bewildering mother in law. She hid in the room she’d entered behind the door, and strained to hear what was being said just up the hall. Thank god the hospital walls were poorly made and exceptionally thin.
“I...I can’t get the blood out of my coat,” Malika sobbed, and Wanda could hear Kamalani make comforting shushing sounds.
“It’s okay, we did what we had to. Things will be better now. You can buy a new coat.”
What they had to do? That probably just means the CPR.
“And my hands, under my nails...there’s a gaping hole in my grandson’s chest, I saw it! I practically raised him! I kissed him good night every time you gave him to us.” The sobs increased until Wanda could barely understand what she was saying. “And now I’ve watched him slowly start to die! People cut him open right in front of me! His shirt...bleeding...and pieces of bone....”
Malika was barely making sense and Wanda felt shame wash over her, listening to a grandmother grieve this horrible trauma. Maybe Hunter was right, and there wasn’t anything deeper to Roman’s shooting. Malika had been lucky to find Roman when she did. The stars had just aligned correctly to save Roman. He had beat the odds, and Zane simply didn’t. Just random chance.
“Shhh,” Kamalani whispered. It sounded like Malika was calming down. “’Screw your courage to the sticking place’, remember? You know what’s at stake here, and our plan is working. That Helios boy almost came here once already. With Roman immobile, he’ll be drawn here eventually. Arkhelios can be saved. Roman will be saved.”
A chill ran down Wanda’s spine and she pressed harder against the wall instinctively. She definitely didn’t want to be discovered now.
This had been the wrong thing to say, and Malika started sobbing once more.
“His-His eyes though! I saw him look at me when he fell. When he struggled to breathe! I thought when we started this it would be easy, but I can't forget the look on his face. The smell of his blood! I can only pretend that I don't know for so long. How do I tell him when he wakes up? How can I make him understand?”
Kamalani sighed heavily, clearly growing impatient with her ex-mother in law.
“Tell him that you weren’t involved. That you found him after I left. You’re not the one who pulled the trigger after all. He may not even remember seeing you there, or confuse it for when you called Adam." A long pause and more sobbing carried over the air to Wanda. "If it makes you feel less guilty, I can shoot you too. That will throw suspicion off of you.”
Wanda had to clasp a hand over her mouth to keep from reacting.
Kamalani shot her own son? Why? And does this mean she killed Abraham too?
“You had one job this entire time,” Kamalani hissed as Malika’s sobs grew louder. “All you had to do was put him on a plane and keep writing checks until some duke or prince caught his interest and you couldn’t even manage that. Now how do you think he'll feel when Abe turns up dead? You could have spared him that pain if you'd only stopped this when I warned you."
Complete silence fell in the hospital. The only sound was the faint hum of the lights, and an occasional beep from down the hall. Wanda looked through the crack of the door hinges, and saw Malika poke her head out of the room they were in, looking for any sign of eavesdroppers. Salem and Omar were still sleeping and the woman at the front desk far down the hall seemed to be busy typing. Wanda held her breath, trying to remain as still as possible. Satisfied that they were alone, Malika ducked back into the room.
“What do you mean?” she hissed, shock replacing her tears. “Killing Abe was never part of the plan. We only need to prevent the child-”
“It’s been too long, that child could be born any day now and survive. Our only chance is to act swiftly, and end the threat immediately. You must realize how close to ruin Arkhelios is. A lot more people will die if Abe doesn’t. You know this, Malika! You were the one who chose this to begin with."
Malika sighed and seemed to be gathering her composure again. The cold mask she presented to the world (and especially to Wanda) was slipping back into place.
"You're right," she admitted. "I don't have the stomach for the act itself, but it's necessary. We've been too subtle, too timid hoping that this will resolve itself. Roman will understand one day, and if he doesn't, then maybe he'll feel pushed to leave Arkhelios on his own."
8 notes
·
View notes
— bnha abc's: hitoshi shinsou [angst edition].
well, finally the angst! i have no idea what character i’ll do next but we shall see...
· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·
ɴsғᴡ ᴇᴅɪᴛɪᴏɴ | ғʟᴜғғ ᴇᴅɪᴛɪᴏɴ
⤑ 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧! | 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬
A- Accident, Would they blame themselves if you died in an accident?
∴ unless he was the reason you were involved then no.
∴ he wouldn’t search for correlation to himself in the event of an accident.
∴ he’s not looking to throw a pity party for himself.
∴ you were the one who was dead, after all.
B- Break up, How would they deal with one?
∴ it depends on the relationship.
∴ if it was long term, a few years together then he’s pretty broken up about it
∴ and will probably take a while to get himself back on the market
∴ but a relationship that’s only been a handful of months
∴ he figures it’s best to just move on from it.
C-Crying, Are they much of a crier?
∴ no not at all, really.
∴ sure, he feels sad but tears never fall from his eyes.
∴ however, if there is something traumatic that happens.
∴ he may shed a few tears into his pillow as he goes to sleep.
D-Death, How do they deal with any death?
∴ pretty well, actually
∴ he finds a way to cope so he can move on as quickly as possible
∴ that’s not to say he doesn’t mourn or just erase their memory
∴ he just moves to work past being broken up about it
∴ he doesn’t want to go through his days with the heavy weight of a death on his mind
∴ the type of guy to visit graves and leave flowers for his loved ones once a month.
E-Emotion, What’s the emotion they tend to push away the most?
∴ anger.
∴ he doesn’t like to be angry and he doesn’t like to show anyone his anger
∴ that’s not always possible so he’ll remove himself from situations that make him angry
∴ he’ll go somewhere private where he can let his anger out without prying eyes.
∴ he feels like shit after losing his temper so he’ll apologize or you’ll have to console him and let him know it’s okay to be angry
∴ he’s human and bottling it up isn’t healthy
∴ he agrees but...tbh nothing changes.
F-Frustrated, How much would it take to push them off the edge?
∴ it truly depends.
∴ day-to-day, he doesn’t really get ticked off or upset easily
∴ he’s pretty patient tbh
∴ but in an event where he worked hard for something
∴ or he really, really had a drive to do something (like get into the hero course)
∴ and he fails to do it
∴ he is pretty easily set off.
∴ but he pushes past and works 10x harder than before until he accomplishes his goal.
∴ he’s a driven man.
G-Great Pain, What is the most painful thing they have witnessed?
∴ when he became a pro, the first time he failed to defeat a villain
∴ and many civilians perished as a result
∴ it’s something that absolutely haunts him.
∴ he had nightmares for weeks afterwards
∴ he fully went to a therapist
∴ like he was fucked up over it
∴ to this day, if he’s reminded of it he will literally get so anxious and depressed, even though he’s seen lots of casualties since then
∴ it was just that first failure that fucks him up.
H-Humiliation, How could they be humiliated?
∴ being cheated on.
∴ the idea that he wasn’t good enough, to the point his lover had to find someone else.
∴ that really damages his sense of self worth and self esteem which is already a bit low to begin with.
∴ he’d feel like there was something wrong with him and now everyone knew he was defective.
I-Injured, How do they handle themselves when injured?
∴ very calm and collected.
∴ he figures there’s no real reason to lose his head over it.
∴ panicking will only make the situation worse.
∴ if it’s a bad injury, he’ll seek help as fast as he can.
∴ if its a superficial wound he’ll probably handle it himself.
J-Jittery, Which part of their past makes them flinch or even worked up?
∴ his childhood.
∴ he was the target for teasing and bullying due to his quirk.
∴ so if anything reminds him of those times, he gets really down
∴ he doesn’t like spiral into depression or anything
∴ but he’ll feel anxious and self conscious until the moment passes
K-Kill, Would they kill for revenge?
∴ no, never.
∴ he’s worked so hard to become a pro hero that he wouldn’t want to jeopardize it by some sort of misconduct as that.
∴ also, he has been accused of having potential to become a villain
∴ and he doesn’t want to give anyone ammunition for that.
L- Loss, What was their greatest loss?
∴ he hasn’t actually experienced much loss in terms of losing anyone to death.
∴ when he was a child, he had a friend before his quirk manifested
∴ and accidentally used it on them, unsure of how to control it
∴ and it scared the other boy so bad he stopped being friends with him
∴ that hurt shinsou pretty badly.
∴ he also probably lost a pet dog, which was traumatic because of how much he depended on the furry animal for comfort
M- Mistakes, How much do they want to fix the mistakes of their past?
∴ shinsou isn’t the type of person who will do things that have the potential for regret
∴ he thinks his decisions over thoroughly and runs through all options before choosing the most logical one
∴ of course, he fucks up sometimes but
∴ he stands by his decisions, confident that he did the best possible thing he could have.
∴ being a pro hero doesn’t allow for him to regret things -- if he stops to mourn every civilian loss, for example, he would only be run into the ground.
∴ that doesn’t help anyone.
N-Need, How would they react if you needed emergency surgery?
∴ calm and collected
∴ especially if you’re scared
∴ then he’s going to make sure he’s a pillar for you to lean on
∴ that’s not to say on the inside he isn’t losing his mind
∴ bc he def is
∴ he just finds it counterproductive to stress you out while you’re already scared of the surgery
∴ it would get neither of you anywhere good
∴ once you’re in surgery, he’d be anxious as he waited.
∴ he’s check the time and refuse to leave the hospital until the doctor announces you’re safe.
O-Outrage, What makes them angry?
∴ betrayal.
∴ shinsou, when he trusts, he trusts hard.
∴ he puts his faith into them and expects them to stand by his side
∴ so if, for example, you used an insecurity of his against him in an argument.
∴ or cheated on him.
∴ or spilled a secret he told you in confidence
∴ he will be pissed. depending on how bad it was, he’s liable to break up with you.
∴ naturally, once his trust is broken, however, it’s near impossible to fix
∴ so good luck getting your relationship back to how it used to be lol
P-Pressure, What stresses them out to the breaking point?
∴ training
∴ he works hard to better himself to become the best hero possible
∴ but it stresses him out that he’s not improving fast enough, he’s not doing enough, he’s falling behind others
∴ he’s really hard on himself and his drive only makes the thought of failure terrifying to him.
∴ he doesn’t want to fuck up and lose his chance at his dream.
Q- Qualify, What part of themselves do they see as dangerous?
∴ his quirk, naturally.
∴ it’s a pretty dangerous quirk but
∴ truthfully, everyone’s quirk is dangerous in some way.
∴ it’s just that he’s always been trated as if his quirk was the worst possible outcome he could have been born with.
∴ so he feels like his quirk is the Most Dangerous.
R-Rock, What weighs them down?
∴ the idea that his quirk, very well could be a villains quirk.
∴ he worries that he might abuse it by accident and fuck everything up
∴ his quirk is different from combat quirks or rescue quirks
∴ he can control people. he can lock them into their own minds and force their bodies to do anything he wants without having to lift a finger. and there’s nothing they can do it about it.
∴ that scares him.
∴ it’s such a powerful quirk
∴ and it’d be so easy to abuse it
∴ he worries about his own morality at times, due to all the times he’s been called a villain
∴ it makes him doubt himself even though he knows himself better than that.
S-Sorrow, Would they feel empty after your death?
∴ very much so.
∴ shinsou is the type who gives himself completely to relationships
∴ whether it’s platonic or romantic, he puts 100% in.
∴ so to lose someone he had cared for so completely
∴ leaves him with a devastating emptiness
∴ he’s not going to know how to fill the gap your presence left behind for a long time.
T-Time, What if they had a limited time to live?
∴ he wouldn’t panic
∴ he’d spend the time doing everything he needed to do
∴ like see his mother, hang out with his friends, eat his favorite food, spend a night with you
∴ he’d be determined to make sure he wouldn’t regret wasting the time he had left
∴ so he does everything he feels is necessary for having the happiest time that he has left.
U-Urge, How badly do they get the urge to see you after separating?
∴ on a day to day basis, not much
∴ he’s very good at occupying his mind and thinking logically about whether it makes sense to see you or not.
∴ most of the time it’s not.
∴ he’s not the type to go crawling back to his ex unless it’s something he needs to fix with you.
∴ but at night, when he cant sleep
∴ his mind will automatically wander to you
∴ thinking about how it felt when just a few days, weeks, months ago you were curled up beside him in bed.
V-Vent, How do they get rid of feelings they find unnecessary?
∴ he’s actually really damn good at communication
∴ he is so good at just talking things through
∴ it helps him sort his thoughts and it keeps him calm, rather than getting worked up and upset
∴ he prefers to have healthy ways to release his negative emotions
W-Wild card, A random angst headcannon.
∴ when the bullying over his quirk got worse the older he got
∴ as people started to look at him like he was going to harm them
∴ he got frustrated, angry even
∴ he went off on his mom -- blaming her for giving him such a shitty, terrible quirk
∴ he said some extremely hurtful things in his anger
∴ and the picture of his mom’s hurt face over his words drives him insane
∴ to this day, he still feels like he’s trying to make it up to her.
∴ truthfully, it’s been forgiven and forgotten for a long time but
∴ he doesn’t believe he deserves that just yet.
X- X-ray, What makes them transparent? How obvious can they get around something they hate?
∴ you really will not know when this guy hates you
∴ he seems to have mostly just, cold indifference to majority of people
∴ so him hating you; being ignored or treated coldly
∴ will literally not even make you feel hated
∴ it just seems like his default
∴ he’s pretty open about his opinions though
∴ so if you talk about something and ask what he thinks of it
∴ if he hates it, like a movie, he’ll just come right out and say it tbh
∴ so he’s like 50/50 transparent.
Y-Yearning, Do old memories make them yearn for your touch?
∴ yes.
∴ shinsou is the type of guy to look through his phone at old texts and pictures
∴ when he lies in bed at night, he thinks of his fondest memories
∴ he won’t actively seek you out if it’s not logical -- like if you’re an ex.
∴ but if you’re available for him, he’ll seek you out with a deep craving for you.
∴ he wants to make more memories while he can.
Z-Zest, Add your own letters!
[Parents Headcanon]
∴ when he was a baby, his father left him and his mom
∴ that left his mom to take care of a baby all on her own
∴ she was a young mom too, had him pretty early in life; about 18 or so.
∴ so she struggled really badly
∴ he regrets all the trouble he gave her when he was naive to the struggles of parenthood
∴ once he got older and realized how much his mom did for him
∴ he began to work hard around the house so she could relax when she got home from work, cooked dinner, and never asked for anything he didn’t absolutely need
∴ he absolutely adores his mom
∴ and the idea of ever being without her terrifies him.
· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·
© all content belongs to seita 2020. do not modify or repost.
324 notes
·
View notes
So I recently read Killing Stalking over the course of two days. The first day was spent fleeing my home from flood waters and so I read the first half of the manwha on my phone in the parking lot of a grocery store. I was so absorbed in the story that I didn’t have time to worry about whether or not my house was washing away (it didn’t, and there was no damage, thanks for asking). I know I was pretty late to the party on this one, and it wasn’t because I wanted to avoid the series. To be honest it sounded like something I would love from the moment I heard about it, but at the time, I was busy and ended up forgetting it. I saw some pictures from it on Tumblr a few days back, was reminded, and decided to give it a shot. I have some feelings and random opinions on it that I felt like sharing. Most of these will include spoilers for the entire story, so be warned. Also: TW: ABUSE
But first, my non-spoilery plea to others who haven��t read it (and I guess the first thing I wanted to talk about): If you’re avoiding the series because you’ve heard that it glorifies or romanticizes abusive relationships, you can put that concern to rest. I honestly don’t know how anyone can walk away from the series with that take. The relationship portrayed in the series is nightmarish, and even the parts that aren’t so nightmarish are tense and very much realistic in the way abusive relationships actually work. Abusers aren’t abusive 100% of the time, and that’s what makes them so insidious. If they were terrible all the time, it would be much easier to hate them, leave them, and forget them. Instead, they are often kind, generous, and loving between incidents of abuse. This is to keep their victims emotionally attached to them. For many of these abusers, they may even feel actual love for their victims (a twisted, selfish love for sure, but I’ve always been of the belief that love can be a bad thing in certain situations). So even though there are moments in the series where the relationship seems to be going “well”, there’s always a sense of dread hanging over it, the feeling that at any moment, things are going to explode.
From here on out, there are !!MAJOR SPOILERS!! for the entire series.
A lot of people have identified the most sad or tragic or painful moments for them while reading, and those moments vary quite a bit between people. For me, the moment that gouged out my heart, the moment that was such a punch to the gut that I almost felt physical pain, was just a tiny thing. Toward the end, the first time Bum tries to go to the hospital Sangwoo is at, and the cab driver treats him like shit, Bum thinks “Why does everyone treat me like this?” And then we see flashbacks of moments when Sangwoo was kind to him. And... that right there. That got me. The fact that his abuser, the person who had treated him so cruelly, was also the only person who had treated him with actual kindness, broke my heart. The fact that he’d lived his whole life and experienced nothing but cruelty or indifference or betrayal. The only person who ever made him feel special, feel loved, was also the person who had tormented him. And it hurt so much to read, because I know that’s how many real life abuse victims feel. It was, in my opinion, the most tragic aspect of the series.
My last opinion might be a little controversial. Something I noticed when checking out the fandom for the series was how anyone who even hinted that they’d like for Sangwoo and Bum to be happy together was met with absolute hate and fury (slinging around lots of terrible insults like “failed abortion” and things I won’t repeat here - like yeah great idea explaining how abusive relationships are bad by being verbally abusive). Now, as a logical adult, I know it would be totally impossible for them to have a happy relationship (and indeed they didn’t). I didn’t even want them to be together. I just wanted them both to get a lot of therapy. The “headcanon” I came up with to make myself feel less depressed after the ending was that they both died and were then reborn into loving, nurturing environments where they grew up to be happy, well-adjusted people who would meet in college and have a healthy relationship. But I do understand the people who saw the less horrible moments and thought, “I wish they could just be happy together”. Because it did feel like these two thoroughly broken people had found a tiny, miniscule amount of happiness and love, even if it was clear it definitely would not last and definitely was not healthy. I get feeling that way.
And actually, the series plays a fairly clever trick on the reader. Just like real life abuse victims have trouble hating and leaving their abusers when those abusers are kind or show a more human side to them, Sangwoo became much harder to hate and dismiss once his traumatic childhood was revealed and he showed some kindness to Bum. It’s like the series was showing us exactly how abuse victims remain attached to their abusers, by making us stay attached to Sangwoo as a character. For the first half of the series I despised him, but the series tricked me into sympathizing with him and even feeling sorry for him and wishing he could be happy. And that. right. there. That’s how abusers get you. I thought it was a very smart way to portray this concept.
I also get that some BL fans DID romanticize and even fetishize the relationship. But, and hear me out please, I don’t think that’s a reason to totally dunk on those fans. Most of the fans who felt that way are probably fairly young, probably naive, probably exploring some dark fantasies for (perhaps) the first time in their lives. I think most people have something that introduced them to darker fantasies (rape fantasies, violent kinks, etc.). When you’re young, these are pretty thrilling to think about, and as long as you limit this exploration to works of fiction, it’s a safe way to dig into these fantasies. For most people, they grow out of them. The thrill wears off as they get older or they become mature enough to realize how horrible and scary those situations would be in real life. Some people keep those kinds of kinks all their lives, and as long as they limit it to fantasy and fiction, or consensual situations, that’s fine. But we need to understand that Killing Stalking, just by nature of having a very attractive character like Sangwoo, is going to be that piece of media that introduces a lot of younger people to those darker fantasies. And it’s not necessarily a terrible thing to let them safely explore those fantasies with this story. Because the story doesn’t encourage it. It doesn’t paint a rosey picture of this kind of relationship. It’s horrifying and ends in tragedy and trauma for everyone involved.
My “thing” that introduced me to darker fantasies was a movie called Boxing Helena, which I watched when I was most definitely too young. For those who haven’t seen it, it actually shares some themes with Killing Stalking (involving a sexy but psychotic man who had lots of issues relating to his mother and keeps a woman captive in his home, partly because she reminds him of his mother, and does horrible things to her - there’s even a scene where he brings another woman home and has sex with her while the captive woman is forced to watch through a cracked door. Sounds familiar, right?). It felt dark and dangerous and taboo, because it was also horrific. But it was exciting. Of course, I grew out of things like that, but it would have been absolutely no help to have a ton of people screaming at me that I was a sick pervert for finding the psycho guy hot (I mean it was Julian Sands in the 90’s, can you really blame me?).
If you come across younger fans who think Killing Stalking was sexy and say dumb things like, “I’d like to be in Sangwoo’s basement!” (actual comment I saw), don’t immediately harp on them and make them feel bad. They’re just exploring their own fantasies. It would be much more helpful to calmly and patiently talk to them and point out that it’s okay to like this stuff in fiction, but to be very careful about how they explore these feelings in reality. I’d be willing to bet that the vast majority of these people are just virginal teenagers who would never in a million years get involved in a dangerous relationship. So let’s cut them a little slack.
Note: When I refer to younger fans, I’m thinking 18-20 or so, and of course the younger teens who are going to read this whether we want them to or not. I am in no way suggesting that we should encourage younger people to read it. Just that, if you come across a younger person who has already read it, yelling insults at them over their naive opinions on it isn’t going to be helpful to anyone.
Anyway, that’s all I have to say about it for now. I just felt very strongly about it and felt like sharing.
20 notes
·
View notes
CAN YOU SEE RIGHT THROUGH ME? - YMCULC
all the king's horses, all the king's men,
couldn’t put me together again
( the archer ; taylor swift )
marguerite ( maggie ) brynn hall, the gentle bad-ass
“ show me a hero and i’ll write you a tragedy. ”
― f. scott fitzgerald
– BASIC INFORMATION –
» full name: marguerite brynn hall
» nicknames: maggie, mags, margie
» age: twenty seven ( at time of snap ), thirty two ( at time of blip )
» birthday: january eighth, nineteen-ninety-one, ten fifty-five in the morning
» birthplace: philadelphia, pennsylvania
» zodiac sign: capricorn sun, libra moon, aries ascendent
» current residence: new york, new york
» gender: cis female
» occupation: social worker for the stark relief foundation displaced children division, later avenger trainee
– HEALTH –
» physical health: overall, maggie is in excellent health. she works out most weekday mornings and tends to eat a balanced diet. she doesn’t drink too often or smoke at all. she knows that her health conscious habits stem from her need to control everything that she is able to but that doesn’t stop her from being set in her ways.
» scars: she has several small scars from various bumps and scrapes but there is a sizeable scar on the front of her left shoulder from a car accident while she was a freshman in college. a driver t-boned her small sedan in an intersection when she was on her way home from a final exam. when she woke up in the hospital, with both of her parents at her bedside, she had stitches stretching approximately three inches from her clavicle towards her upper arm.
» broken (any) bones: surprisingly, despite being quite active, maggie hasn’t ever broken a bone. she’s quite graceful from taking dance classes since she could walk until she graduated high school.
– MENTAL HEALTH –
» extrovert or introvert: since getting older, maggie has become comfortable with the knowledge that she is a relatively private person. when she was younger, she enjoyed being in crowds however, she now tends to retract into her shell when surrounded by too many people.
» logical or creative: maggie is incredibly logical; she is very formulaic in her thought patterns. when it comes to problem solving, maggie has all but got it down to a science which can be effective but she’d be incorrect to say it was without fault.
» optimist or pessimist: neither term seems to describe the woman very well; she feels as though she’d call herself a realist. the world has let her down more times than she can count so she makes an effort to always adjust her expectations towards the most-likely event.
» phobias / fears:
» problems: maggie was diagnosed with obsessive-compulsive personality disorder and generalized anxiety disorder when she was sixteen. she goes through occasional bouts of depression but she doesn’t find it to be chronic. though undiagnosed, following the death of her parents, she experiences the effects of post-traumatic stress.
– PERSONALITY –
» goals / dreams: maggie has always wanted to improve the world around her. when she was a little girl, she told her parents that she wanted to be the first doctor to go to space. when she found out that she’d have to be in space for months at a time, she quickly changed her plans. the brain always fascinated her and so she dove headfirst into her newfound passion. following the deaths of her parents, maggie wanted to help others like she wished that she had been and so she, once more, switched gears and went into social work.
» quirks / habits: maggie is a creature of habit. each morning, she wakes up and opens the curtains around the house before pouring herself a cup of cold brew coffee with cinnamon syrup and oat milk. she makes her bed and begins her day. when she gets home from work, she turns on her fairy lights and fans before removing her makeup and changing in to cozy clothes. as for quirks, maggie wouldn’t say she has any but her friends would be quick to point out her concentration face-- whenever she gets deep in to a hard task, her eyebrows screw up tightly and her lips purse. she doesn’t like to look in mirrors when the room is dark, she only gets out of bed on the left side, and she habitually sings in the shower even when she isn’t home alone.
» likes: precipitative weather like rain storms or snow ( especially thunderstorms ), vinyl records, lighting candles and allowing them to light the room, cooking or baking anything from scratch, old books with notes in the margin from an owner long forgotten, astronomy and any associated phenomena ( especially eclipses and meteor showers ), fleetwood mac and other classic rock icons, acts of service from loved ones, dogs with smushed faces, taylor swift, watching films (or rewatching films, whether new or old), freshly brewed tea, watching the sun set and staying awake to see it rise again, wisteria vines twisting around a fence, ‘casablanca’, f. scott fitzgerald novels, anything that is a dusty shade of sage green, tom hanks, vanilla bean ice cream (not french vanilla), using a polaroid camera to capture a moment, iced coffee with cinnamon, the beach during winter when the northern shores get a little bit icy, long drives at night with the windows down, sitting on the roof in a companionable silence with a loved one, the color of deep maroon rust, cozy throw blankets and an unnecessary amount of pillows on the couch and bed
» dislikes: too much physical touch, indifference or apathy in the face of injustice, the deafening sound of crickets and cicadas at night, showing any signs of vulnerability, open-toed shoes, powdery or floral scents, olives, thin pillows, overhead lighting (lamps only, thank you very much), lack of a routine, being unable to read situations and prepare adequately, not feeling in control of any situation, harlequin novels, ladybugs and any other insects, disorganization (physically or emotionally.)
» flaws: she feels the need to always be the strong one that she often doesn’t allow herself the freedom to feel without pushing it down. she has a habit of not letting people in, especially people who are new to her, and even when she does, she is always terrified that she’ll lose them like she’s lost most other people that she loved. she is a control freak and can sometimes be a little boss.
– FAMILY –
» parents:
; phillip hugh hall ( father / pierce brosnan )
; allison marie hall née clark ( mother / jamie lee curtis )
» maternal grandparents:
; richard ernest clark ( grandfather / tony curtis )
; virginia ruth clark née franklin ( grandmother / janet leigh )
» paternal grandparents:
; hugh alexander hall ( grandfather / kris kristofferson )
; marguerite joan hall née green ( grandmother / ellen burstyn )
» sibling(s): n/a
» children: n/a
– APPEARANCE –
» height: five feet, two inches
» weight: one hundred fifteen pounds
» eyes: maggie’s eyes are one of her most striking features. the espresso brown orbs are speckled with golden flecks; they’re a rounded, almost almond shape.
» hair: her hair is chestnut brown and it has a tendency to gleam copper and slightly golden when the light reflects off of it. for the majority of her life, she had a tendency of keeping the gentle waves cropped into a side-parted, blunt bob that rested just above her shoulders. she typically wore her hair straight or blown out. following the snap, she allowed it to grow out beyond its typical length. she keeps it trimmed to just below her shoulder blades with a set of wispy curtain bangs to compliment the natural waves that she now maintains.
» face and complexion: maggie has a light skin tone that tans in the sun. she has no freckles on her face but has quite a few down her chest and arms; none of them are very dark. she has a round face which can almost be cherubic but as she’s gotten older, she has developed a sharp jawline that makes her look more mature despite her stature. her rounded almond eyes are lined with thick, dark lashes. she has a small button nose that pinches minutely at its tip as it turns slightly upwards. her brows are full and straight with only a slight arch. she has full cheeks with small dimples that frame her smile. maggie’s lips are typically tinted a red berry shade; her bottom lip is slightly more voluminous than its top counterpart which is home to a sharp cupid’s bow.
» build: maggie is petite, to say the least. she stands just slightly over five feet tall and weighs just over one hundred pounds. though slim, her figure is a narrow hourglass. despite her size, she’s quite agile and strong. years of channeling all of her emotions in to ballet as a child caused a habit that has yet to die. when she feels the need to get rid of excess emotion, she runs or attends a fitness class to channel that away.
» defining marks: when she was eighteen, maggie and her best friend poppy got matching tattoos. on the inside of her left wrist, there is a small crescent moon to match a sun on poppy’s. following her parents death, she got a second tattoo and on the inside of her upper arm, close to the crook of her elbow, there is one of two ravens perched on a branch. several months after the blip, she got another tattoo. on her right side, on her ribs under her bra-line, there’s a small star housed within four concentric circles.
» dress style: maggie’s fashion sense is on the border between classic and trendy. she doesn’t stray too far away from her comfort zone or wear too many patterns. she tends to stick to jewel tones and neutrals. for her work, her style tends to be business casual-- typically a blouse with a skirt or wide legged trousers and a heel. when she’s at home, an oversized sweater and leggings or pajama shorts are her go-to uniform. if she’s out running errands, she loves a flowy skirt or a pair of mom jeans with one of her dad’s old, classic band tees. her shoes are typically a revolving door of plain keds or converse, ankle boots, or a small heel.
» faceclaim: jenna louise coleman
– ROMANTIC & SEXUAL –
» marital status: she is unmarried.
» sexual preference: although maggie is primarily heterosexual, she’s never been closed off to the idea of dating anyone of the same gender if she found that she was attracted to them.
» ever had sex: she had sex for the first time when she was a freshman in college; it was with her boyfriend at the time, nicholas gray. as she’s gotten older, she has had a variety of companions-- some were romantic partners, several one-night-stands, and two attempted friends-with-benefits arrangements.
» opinion on sex: maggie isn’t ashamed to say that she enjoys sex and the freeing feeling that comes with it.
» opinion on relationships: although she likes the idea of a relationship, maggie’s fear of not being in control makes it difficult to maintain one. before the snap, she had only been in one long-term relationship which she abruptly ended after the death of her parents. she found that it was easier to try and turn off her feelings than to deal with them as everything in her life changed. since graduating with her second degree, maggie has been trying to open herself back up to dating and the possibility of a relationship.
» turn ons: the feeling of someone brushing her hair off of her face, being praised, bravery, kindness, interlacing fingers when holding hands, a genuine smile, sincerity, strong hands, bright eyes, taller men, a strong jawline, delicate kisses that gradually deepen into something more, kisses down the neck, deep conversations and debates, cologne that isn’t overpowering
» turn offs: sleazy behavior, apathy towards important issues, party-scene demeanor, bragging, lying, being late, ill-fitting clothes, lacking ambition or drive for moving forward
» past relationships:
; nicholas gray ( first love / ben barnes )
» current relationship:
; n/a
» future relationship:
; steve rogers ( tbd / chris evans )
; bucky barnes ( tbd / sebastian stan )
– FRIENDSHIP –
» big group of friends or several close friends: maggie would rather have a smaller quantity of people in her life with better quality relationships than to have a large group of friends that she feels as though she doesn’t know.
» best friend: maggie was a relatively lonely child; she spent a lot of her time reading and imagining her life in other worlds. she had some friends but none that ever ventured further than the occasional hangout. when she was a freshman in highschool, she sat next to poppy stewart on their first day of orientation and the two have been inseparable ever since.
» ever lied to a friend: she’s told white lies when necessary but she’s never lied about something earth-shattering.
» the most horrible thing they did to a friend: when maggie broke up with nicholas, she left him a letter on his pillow before she left his apartment one morning. she avoided his calls afterwards and didn’t speak to him for several weeks until he came to her apartment to try and work things out. later in her life, maggie felt extremely guilty that she wasn’t able to confide in poppy about steve’s plan until after he had already left.
» list of friends -
; poppy stewart ( best friend / annie murphy / @petalsofpoppys )
; pepper potts ( boss, friend / gwenyth paltrow )
; tony stark ( boss, family friend / robert downey jr )
; natasha romanoff ( co-worker, close friend / scarlett johansson )
; steve rogers ( co-worker, friend, boyfriend / chris evans )
; bucky barnes ( friend, lover, boyfriend / sebastian stan )
; sam wilson ( friend / anthony mackie )
; wanda maximoff ( future friend / elizabeth olsen )
; monica rambeau ( future friend / teyonah parris )
– MORALITY –
» ever been drunk: the first time that maggie got drunk was her senior year of high school; she was at a house party with poppy and she since vowed to never touch any drink with ‘punch’ in the name, ever again.
» lied to a significant other: following the death of her parents, maggie never disclosed her tumultuous emotions to nicholas and so he was blindsided when she left him on one random morning. with an apologetic note of a goodbye, maggie made sure no trace was left behind when she slipped from the apartment in to the warm summer breeze.
» cheated on significant other: maggie would never cheat on a partner. she would rather end things than break someone’s trust in her.
» gotten into a fight: she’s never gotten in to a physical altercation but following her move in to the avenger’s compound, natasha and steve helped to train her tactically. after she moved back to the city, bucky takes up the position of being her trainer.
» deepest regret: not telling her parents how much she looked up to both of them before they died.
» religion: maggie was not raised to be religious. her parents always emphasized the importance of trying to be morally good whenever you could. she identifies as an atheist.
– MISCELLANEOUS –
» playlist: https://rb.gy/kxqfbu
» instagram:
» gifboard:
» character inspiration: leia organa (star wars trilogy), alex parrish (quantico), emma swan (once upon a time), amy pond (doctor who), buffy summers (buffy the vampire slayer), emily prentiss (criminal minds), lily evans (harry potter)
15 notes
·
View notes
♡ lake house fever ♡ t.l.
Lake House Fever ♡ Tom Lucitor Imagine
Requested: no, BUT I PROMISE I WILL GET TO THOSE THAT ARE REQUESTING!!! I just keep getting new ideas, I’m so sorry :’(
Warnings: extreme FLUFF, slight angst but not too major
Summary: obviously the main plot line of Lake House Fever, only it’s the reader instead of Star and things are a bit changed up. Reader is a human who has been dating Tom for a long time against her parents’ will because she and him are undeniably in love with each other. The second time he invites her over to hang out with his family, and they end up stranded due to a storm with his mother who is just a little bit skeptical about his new girlfriend...
♡♡♡
To say that you were in love with Tom Lucitor might just be the understatement of the century.
Yes, you were a human.
And yes, you knew it was absolutely insane that you were in love with a demon hybrid who not only lived longer than you ever would, but was also the fucking Prince of the Underworld. There was no way that things would ever work out, right? This logic would have driven you away instantly, except for one fact that made your situation different.
He loved you too.
You and Tom had been dating for almost a year now, and you could feel it in your gut that Tom was the one you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. You've never been more certain about anything more than that. And he felt the same, secretly forming a plan to slowly ease you into becoming his wife one day and the Queen of the Underworld. They'd find a way to make the fact that you were a human work, I mean, Star had been teaching you how to cast very small spells that very special humans can perform. Most of them consisted of spells for protection, and one random one about conjuring a cloud bartender she had insisted on teaching you.
Yeah, they'd make it work.
Anyways, your parents definitely did not approve of your relationship for obvious reasons. But ever since the moment you and Tom had laid eyes on each other and it was like the whole world had frozen, Star knew that she had to get you two together. Despite your parents' constant nagging to end it, you forced their lack of blessings to the back of your mind and did your best to let go of your problems with your best friends and with Tom.
It worked every time.
Nothing made you happier than being with your best friends and the love of your life! And while the road may have been a bit rocky, the day that Tom invited you over to his Lake House with his family for some bonding time was going to turn out a lot more... exciting than you had ever imagined it would be...
♡♡♡
The inside of the lava suit you were wearing was growing slightly warm from your closeness to said lava, but with one look at your boyfriend as he joyfully glided along the waves, you knew you could suffer through the heat. Surfing was never really your forte, but once Tom had taught you some tricks, you basically became a pro just to go surfing with him.
Balancing your best on the board below you, you gradually picked up speed until you were side by side with Tom, who, not gonna lie, looked pretty hot when he was shirtless.
“Hey there gorgeous,” he winked, earning a slight blush to rise to your cheeks.
“Hey yourself, hottie,” you flirted back, receiving a sly grin from your boyfriend. His three red eyes were laced mischievously as he glanced towards the shoreline where his family was resting.
“Race you to the shore?”
“You’re on!”
He beat you, of course. Not that you minded! He was totally awesome at surfing, not to mention you got a great view of his backside as you were left in the waves... Shaking your head to snap yourself out of it, you soon realized that you had a prior obligation to get to. Guilt riddled your mind as you popped the circular helmet off of your head and handed it over to your boyfriend.
“Thanks so much for the fun time, Tom,” you smiled. “But I totally forgot that I have to help Star with a Diaz family dinner.”
His mother made what sounded like an angry sigh from her height above you, only making you feel a little worse. With just one look at your hunched expression, Tom was instantly able to read your mind.
“Hey, it’s all cool, sunshine,” you felt the butterflies flitter at the cute nickname. “But you know, you could just stay here!”
You considered it. You truly did consider it because, even though you loved Star, you would choose staying with your boyfriend over attending another Diaz family dinner any day. They were sort of... strange. But the last time you tried to skip out, Star made sure that you paid for it by forcing you into owing her a favor when she needed it, and that usually resulted in cleaning Lavabo’s lint trap or helping Star and Jana awaken the dead... it was terrifying owing Star a favor.
“I would love to, but Star can be very... persuasive,” you chuckled awkwardly. “I really should get-"
A sudden loud, earsplitting bang of thunder erupted through the sky, startling you so badly you jumped out of the lava suit. Up above, the usual tangerine sky had now began turning a fiery red with neon yellow lightning bolts throughout. You quickly latched on to your boyfriend's lavender arm, not even noticing him smiling at how cute you were when you were scared.
"Well, that looks like a pretty nasty storm," Dave commented, already beginning to pack up the lawn chair he had been sitting in.
"We better head inside for safety. Guess you'll be sticking around," Tom grinned at you, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you close. You felt you face flush red at the closeness and the exhilaration that never went away. In your flustered state, you completely forgot all about the dinner as you muttered a soft "okay" before following them all inside.
The sky didn't look any better inside their lake house. In fact, it almost looked worse! You were cuddled up on the couch next to Tom while his family was splayed out on the couches next to and before you. To be honest, you weren't quite sure exactly how they felt about you. You hoped they liked you, but the Lucitors were the kind who seemed mostly indifferent which made it even more nerve wracking for you.
Another surprise thunder bolt caused you to squeak and grab onto Tom's arm out of fear. He smiled softly at you and rested his hand on top of yours. Once you realized what you had done, the blush quickly returned, causing you to stutter.
"H-hey there," you giggled.
"This is quite a storm," Dave commented. "Looks like we're gonna be here for quite some time."
Hey, that means more room for family bonding! Sure it made you a little nervous seeing as you were a human in a room full of demons... but then again, Tom's dad was also a human, so maybe things would be okay.
Your thoughts were interrupted by a shrill shriek that appeared to be coming from behind a very scary portrait of an old... bat, demon thing?
"W-what was that?" You stammered, realizing a bit too late that being with demons also meant a lot of scary, sudden stuff. But when Tom snaked his arm around your waist and pulled you into his chest, the fear was instantly gone.
"That's just Relicor, he wants to play Scrabble with us." As soon as he finished talking, the painting squeaked open to reveal the exact same creature. He let out a loud squak and flew down to rest on the couch beside you, pointing at the Scrabble box that had miraculously appeared on the table. After playing a few rounds of Scrabble, and showing off your complex vocabulary skills, Wrathmelior was coming back from the kitchen when she spotted a huge photo album book.
"Great idea, Honey," Dave agreed after she made some sort of clicking sound you assumed was her speaking. Everyone rose from their seats to go find a larger table that we could all look at the pictures from. While you were following your boyfriend's enormous mother, you suddenly realized how difficult it would be if you ever had to communicate with her one on one.
"I wish I could speak demon," you sighed to yourself, not realizing that Tom heard you.
"I could teach you," he winked. "It'd be fun!" It was only when you realized the suggestive tone he had added to it that you turned beet red and playfully pushed him.
"You're an idiot, Lucitor."
"And you are beautiful, L/n."
You finally reached the dining room and pulled up some chairs so you could gather around the photo book. She started at the beginning, so baby photos was obviously the first thing you saw. You couldn't help but coo over the adorableness as Tom's groans of embarrassment filled the background. Baby Tom was absolutely adorable!!
"Oh my gosh, T, you were such a cute baby!" You cried, leaning your head on his shoulder. His heart began to race as he chuckled softly.
Wrathmelior turned the pages as we passed through Tom's childhood years and family reunions until she stopped at...
"Oh, here we go," Wrathmelior's sister spoke in her raspy voice, practically rolling her eyes. "The Star and Tom section."
Instant tension filled the room as you felt your heart tighten in your chest. Before you were dozens of pictures of your best friend and your boyfriend... on dates, at parties, on walks in the park, on family reunions or celebrations...
To say that it nearly broke your heart would be an understatement. Dave sent you a sympathetic glance as you tried to force yourself to look away. You didn't want to see anymore. Tom, clearly seeing your uncomfortableness, laced his fingers through yours and cleared his throat.
"Umm... Mom? Maybe we can skip this part?"
She shook her head no and was about to continue on looking at the section until she noticed how sad you looked. She heaved a slight sigh and began to turn the page, but by that point you had already stood up and politely asked them to excuse you.
Wrapping your arms tightly around yourself, you walked through the winding hallways and just as you were about to make it to the door, Tom's hand landed gently on your shoulder, whirling you around to face him.
"Hey- sunshine, what's wrong?" His eyebrows knit in concern as he noticed the puffiness in your eyes, like a dam ready to break.
"I-it's nothing," you sniffed, hastily rubbing your eyes. "I'm fine. I just... I think I should go."
"Why?"
His obliviousness sparked a tiny flame of anger inside of you as you shook your head, turning back to face the door. "Your mom obviously hates me. And from the looks of it wishes you were still with Star so... maybe..." You bit your tongue as tears began cascading down your cheeks. "Maybe you should just be with her instead of me."
You threw open the door and raced out into the firestorm, just being glad to get some fresh air and not even caring about the danger surrounding you. Tom was quick to follow you, grabbing your hand and looking around at the sky with fear. He might be fine, but you? You were human, you might die the second you touched the lava.
"Y/n, please, don't do this. That's not true! My mom just has a hard time with change... just, please, come back inside. It's not safe-"
Just then, the absolute worse possible thing that could happen happened. A huge wave of lava came crashing in and dragged Tom out into the water... or lava? A scream escaped from your throat as you watched him struggle against the choppy waves. His mother was screaming from the window and the panic was beginning to close up your lungs.
But he was your boyfriend. And no matter what, you loved him and would do anything to save him. So, you grabbed your surfboard and leapt on top of the waves, wincing in fear at the heat that radiated around you. One wrong move, and you were gone.
"Y/n no!" Tom's shouts were staccatoed as he bobbed in and out of the lava. "It's too dangerous!"
But you didn't care. Riding the waves, you did your best to angle the board towards Tom and just as you were about to reach him, a huge wave rose high over both of your heads and came crashing down.
The only sound to be heard was your screaming.
♡♡♡
About five minutes later, a large blue orb soon rolled onto the beach out of the lava, and soon dissipated to reveal you and Tom, lying side by side.
Tom let out a soft groan as he quickly sat up, and noticing your motionless body, quickly shook you.
"Y/n? Oh thank gods," he quickly swooped in to press a kiss to your lips once he realized you were okay. You giggled into the kiss until he pulled away and were about to sit up when you winced in pain.
He quickly wrapped his arms around your back to support you and inspected your leg. A huge, red gash was evident right by your hamstring. Just then, his family came rushing through the door and straight up to you.
"I'm fine, I'm fine," Tom said, gracefully swooping you up into his arms. "Y/n got burned by the lava saving me. Do we still have that first aid kit?"
"Yes, come on, let's go."
About a half our after they had all patched you up and Tom had never left your side, the sky had finally cleared.
"Hey look," you pointed out the window from your position on Tom's lap. "The storm's over."
Wrathmelior turned to you and began leaking some sort of strange substance from her eyes. You had guessed she was crying and felt a heavy weight press against your chest, soon realizing how much danger you and Tom had both been in. You leaned against him even more and rested your head on his shoulder.
"You could have died," he softly scolded.
"So could you," you countered. "I would rather die than let you die."
Just as he was about to respond, his mom made another series of clicks and sounds. You sat there dumbfounded until Dave translated.
"She says that it was she who caused the storm and she is incredibly sorry that she was so judgemental towards you. My wife has a hard time when it comes to girls hurting our boy, so she gets a little... overprotective," he chuckled, scratching the back of his neck before offering you a warm smile. "But please know that we do appreciate you Y/n, and are very happy that our boy has someone like you in his life. Thank you for saving him."
"Of course," you smiled, feeling tears of joy form in your eyes.
Maybe meeting your demon-hybrid boyfriend's family wasn't so bad after all.
♡ a.a.
771 notes
·
View notes
Streetlight
F/M Pairing: OC x Seo Changbin (Stray Kids)
Warnings: Angst (this is kinda sad at the beginning); fluff; mild language
Genre: Family AU; Haven Sequel; Strangers to Lovers
Word Count: 7.8K
Summary: For a long time, Changbin’s priorities were centered around the need to take care of Y/N and the rest of his adopted family. However, as their dynamic has continued to evolve, he starts to feel like they no longer really need him. So, maybe Changbin feels a little bit lonely these days, but that all changes when he meets a mysterious stranger who wants to take care of him instead.
A/N: Like Haven itself, I really love this one. Special thanks to the anonymous user who requested this! I wish I could tag you.
Whenever Changbin found himself questioning why he was forced to endure the monotony of a 9-5 desk job with no reprieve, including outrageous weekend hours and overtime, he was always reminded of his family and a persistent desire to take care of them. It was a sound justification for putting up with the rude customers who took one look at his superintendent badge and immediately targeted him as the subject of their endless complaints. For example, they might say something like, “The packaging is all wrong!” or, “The shipment label should be 152 instead of 151!” and, his personal favorite, “Do you actually know what you’re doing?”
In those instances, Changbin would paste on his best fake smile and kindly tell those customers that, yes, he did have some inkling of what he was doing, even if he sometimes doubted himself. After all, his job wasn’t that hard, but it was demanding of his time and efforts, and Changbin was rapidly coming to the conclusion that he wasn’t meant for a customer service position. But quitting would mean jeopardizing the success and good-fortune that had befallen his family during recent weeks. It would mean risking their overstock of food and secure funding for Felix’s college classes. It would mean forcing the younger members to work, or exposing Minho to more hours at the warehouse.
That certainly wouldn’t be fair to Y/N who had come to form a very strong dependency on Minho, even if their relationship had been a major shock for the rest of the family when it was first discovered. The circumstances surrounding the revelation weren’t exactly ideal, and Changbin had been a little hurt that Y/N felt the need to hide something like that from him. She had come a long away from the shy pre-teen who would snuggle next to him at night and tell him about her dreams for the future.
His heart would sometimes ache for those days because it was nice to be needed. Changbin had a people-pleasing personality, and he often formed strong bonds with those that he cared about. But his love for Y/N was especially strong, and Changbin wondered if Y/N ever missed those nights when she would crawl into Changbin’s bed and ask him to protect her from those horrible nightmares.
It sometimes made him sad when he realized that Y/N didn’t need him like she used to when she first arrived at the house. In the same way that most of his family members had outgrown their childish stages, maturing into young adults who were starting to become independent. Even Jeongin and Seungmin had reached that stage where they could handle themselves, attending school during the day before coming home and isolating themselves away from the others.
In fact, when he really thought about it, most of his family members would spend the majority of their time according to whatever fascinated their current whims. Thankfully, Chan had decided that Friday nights would remain exclusive, and Changbin might be lucky enough to have Y/N crawl into his lap, or one of the other members cuddle close to his side - where he would like to have them for the rest of their lives because it felt nice to keep them safe.
“Excuse me, young man, but is this really the best you can do on stamps?”
Changbin sighed at the interruption, studying the elderly woman who had disturbed his thoughts. “I’m sorry, ma’am,” he said. “We don’t sell anything else.”
The old woman scoffed at him before walking away, and Changbin wondered what Y/N might be doing at that moment...
It was late when Changbin found himself trudging down the hallway, ignoring the sound of Jisung whining about how Changbin had bought the wrong kind of snacks. He really wasn’t in the mood to deal with Jisung, especially when the younger seemed to have forgotten that Changbin took the long way home just to buy those snacks for him in the first place. Instead, Changbin just wanted to curl up in bed and go to sleep because he had another early shift tomorrow, and it made him feel extremely unmotivated to endure another day of his shitty office job.
In fact, what Changbin really wanted was Y/N, but when he paused outside of the bedroom that she shared with Jeongin and Seungmin, he could hear the sound of laughter coming from the other side. Changbin took a deep breath, cracking the door open just enough to see Minho and Y/N lying in bed together, watching some sort of video on one of the laptops that belonged to the older members. Changbin swallowed hard, closing the door again before he walked up the stairs and found his room at the other end.
He paused for a moment, looking back at the empty staircase, and wondered what the others were doing since nobody else bothered to greet him when he came home except for Jisung. Consequently, there was an unpleasant sensation swimming around his heart, and Changbin tried to ignore it as he walked into his bedroom, shrugging off his jacket before falling into bed still dressed in his work uniform. For a moment, Changbin was perfectly quiet, even while his mind was loud and refused to give him a moment of peace.
But then he eventually identified what those unpleasant feelings really were, and he hadn’t felt it this profoundly since before his own father kicked him out of his house: it was loneliness. Changbin felt alone in a house full of 8 other people, and when the realization finally settled, Changbin felt a stray tear fall down the side of his face. Because it hurts to feel alone.
It was a struggle then, when he glanced at his alarm clock, vision blurry from the salty wetness that continued to steadily leak from the corners of his eyes, and he could barely perceive the time displayed on the screen. Nevertheless, Changbin had been experiencing a lot of trouble falling asleep in recent weeks, and tonight seemed like it would be another restless plight of tossing and turning. But when had this started? Changbin couldn’t really pinpoint the exact moment when his life started to feel like it was falling apart - like he was losing everything that he had once treasured.
Honestly speaking, even before his stupid job, Changbin had felt like shit because Chan was constantly on his ass about staying at home all the time. It wasn’t even his fault, but it felt like Chan was determined to break him - to pressure him so far that he would literally split in half from the constant push and pull. Then again, Changbin had always experienced moments when he felt like there was nothing he could to prevent his most depressing thoughts. Maybe it was really because of his past - his terrible childhood and his rotten excuse for a father who decided that Changbin didn’t deserve his love or affection.
Yeah, maybe he had some daddy issues, but he also had to watch his own mother die when he was eight-years-old. For a while after her death, Changbin felt like there were huge parts of him that was left empty, and it had taken an awfully long time to fill those places again. But his family living with him at their precious Haven helped a lot because he was able to occupy his time with taking care of others. But Changbin had also learned how to put on a mask of indifference and pretend that he was okay when he felt unusually sad. Maybe he had gotten so good at pretending that he had started to fool even himself.
Perhaps it was finally catching up to him.
Changbin shook his head, wiping away the tears as he rolled onto his side. His eyes explored the darkness of his room until they settled on his nightstand where he paused on the little stuffed Munchlax that sat next to his lamp - a gift from Y/N after he had stayed up with her for an entire week when she had the flu. “I’m beary grateful,” she had said, giggling with childish delight when she first offered him the gift.
It seemed inconsequential at the time, but Changbin had always treasured the little gift, and when he brought it next to him in bed, he could pretend like it was Y/N. He could remember the nights when she curled up next to him, sharing secrets that she never told anyone else. He could feel a little bit better when he was feeling down, and Changbin savored the beautiful moment of peace that the stuffed plushy brought him before he closed his eyes to sleep.
The next morning, Changbin slept through his alarm, and there was a small part of him that desperately wanted to just ignore his responsibilities for one day and remain warm beneath his bed sheets. But life had different plans for him, especially with Bang Chan in charge of the house. “Get up,” Chan said, and Changbin grunted when he felt the older pull the sheets into the floor. “I thought you had a morning shift.”
“I do,” Changbin grumbled, and he cursed under his breath when Chan finally left the room.
Changbin sighed when he realized that the potential for more sleep was completely gone, and he was forced to shower and dress himself before walking down the stairs. It was too early for most of the members, but Changbin greeted Chan and Minho as he dropped down into one of the kitchen chairs. “Coffee?” Changbin asked, looking over at Chan.
“Hyunjin broke the damn thing,” Chan said. “We’ll have to wait until this weekend to go shopping.”
“What an asshole,” Minho remarked, and Changbin nodded his agreement.
“We’re making a list,” Chan said. “I get my bonus check tomorrow, and we can decide on what needs to be replaced.”
“The hot water heater should be a priority,” Changbin said. “I only had enough for a ten-minute shower.”
“How long do you need?” Chan asked, and Changbin snorted because he knew that Chan would only agree to make expensive purchases when he decided that they were, indeed, absolutely critical. “What do you think, Minho?”
“Y/N and I usually take showers together,” he said with a suggestive raise of his eyebrows.
Chan immediately voiced his complaints, explaining to Minho that neither he nor Changbin wanted to hear about their exploits. Changbin especially was still not used to hearing Minho or Y/N talk about the explicit parts of their relationship. But Minho was always perfectly willing to share.
“Add condoms to this list,” Minho continued. “We’re almost out.”
“Come on, Minho,” Chan muttered, but he still wrote down the request. “I’ll think about the hot water heater.”
“You two decide,” Changbin said, rising from the table as he grabbed his keys off the counter.
“You’re not going to eat?” Chan asked with a worried tone, but Changbin chose to ignore him as he walked outside onto the porch, inhaling the fresh, morning air before approaching his car.
The old van was unreliable, but Changbin didn’t have much of a choice when it came to his preferred choice of transportation. They were lucky enough to find the van on sale at a price that they could afford, but it was still hard to find used cars these days that satisfied their budget. And Changbin spent ten minutes jostling his keys in the lock before he managed to open the driver’s side door, turning over the ignition three times before the van offered a half-hearted rumble.
On most days, Changbin was forced to cross his fingers that the old van would get him to work and back without falling to pieces. Changbin rolled his eyes at the thought of bringing it up to Chan because the least he could do was allow Changbin to bring it to a mechanic. There was definitely a problem if the check engine light stayed on 24/7.
“Please don’t leave me stranded,” Changbin said, easing backwards out of the driveway before gently navigating the van along the back roads that he had plotted out since he couldn’t handle the highway.
He briefly recalled when he first got the van because it was a “shiny” new toy for the younger members to savor, and both Jeongin and Seungmin used to beg Changbin to take them for rides at night. And he could never refuse them, gliding up and down the roads while playing their favorite music over the terrible sound system. But the younger boys loved those occasions, and they often talked to Changbin about any sort of worries or concerns that plagued their minds.
Like the time Jeongin had a problem with another kid in his class who picked on him for the clothes that he wore. At first, Changbin tried to satisfy Jeongin’s insistence that new clothes would solve everything, and he dug into his savings account to buy him new jeans and shirts. But, of course, the bully only found something else to tease him about, and Changbin couldn’t stand the way Jeongin would start crying when he told him about how much his feelings were hurt. Which is why, on an unforgettable spring morning, Changbin defied Chan’s orders to stay out of it and drove Jeongin to school only to confront the bully in person. Apparently, the kid was so upset by Changbin’s words, that he told the school officials, and Changbin and Chan had to apologize to the kid’s parents for the mishap.
However, that little shit certainly never bothered Jeongin ever again.
Changbin smiled at the recollection. Even if Chan had been furious with him, he had never regretted his actions. It was just one story that he had of many concerning the members of his family, and the lengths he was willing to go to ensure their happiness.
Even at the cost of his own.
“Excuse me, but I’ve been waiting for twenty minutes!”
Changbin sighed, shouldering aside the poor customer service aide who was clearly out of his league trying to help the middle-aged woman who was seconds away from demanding to see the manager. “Hi,” Changbin said, hoping that the frustration that he felt wasn’t evident in his tone. “I’m very sorry, ma’am. Can you tell me what you’re looking for?”
The woman crossed her arms over her chest, cocking out one hip in a posture that clearly screamed privileged. But Changbin didn’t have the authority to throw this woman out for causing a scene inside the post office; instead, he’s forced to listen to her complaints for another ten minutes before he finally offered a compromise that satisfied her audacious demands and allowed him to keep his rational sanity.
“Have a nice day!”
“We’ll see about that,” the woman muttered, and Changbin quickly made the decision to take one of his mandatory breaks even though he only had an hour left on his shift.
“Bitch,” Changbin grumbled, walking into the back room and sitting down on one of the chairs surrounding his office’s snack machine. “Who the hell ate all of the M&M’s?” Changbin whined, and he wondered, not for the first time, if the universe was conspiring against him.
He settled for a candy bar, checking his phone for any messages, but he wasn’t surprised to see that nobody had reached out. The only people who would try to contact him were his family members, but they knew that he was working. But it still made Changbin feel sad for reasons he couldn’t totally figure out, and he didn’t have enough time to wrestle with complex feelings that made him question whether he really wanted to go straight home after work.
However, when his shift finally ended, Changbin was driving down the same backroads that he always endured, shuffling through the three radio stations that the van managed to pick-up including some sort of EDM station, Country Music Today, and the Classical Hits. Yeah, it wasn’t the best selection, and Changbin distinctly remembered having more options when he first bought the stupid thing.
But he also should’ve known that having such negative thoughts would never lead to anything good, and Changbin was already cursing when he felt the van start to shake and refuse to budge over 25-miles-per-hour. Consequently, Changbin was forced to pull over on the side of the road, in the middle of nowhere with questionable cell service. “Son of a bitch!” he shouted, slamming his hands against the steering wheel before he opened the door.
At that point, Changbin was fed up with everything, and his emotions were bordering on the edge of volatile as he kicked the driver’s side door, growling when he realized that he had left a dent behind in the metal. “Stupid fucking piece of shit!” he yelled, slamming his hands down on the hood before he unlatched the metal piece keeping the damn thing from flying into his windshield.
Immediately, a huge cloud of smoke erupted in his face, and he failed to waft the offending spray away from his eyes which started to burn as a result. “What the fuck?” he grunted, squinting as he tried to figure out where the smoke was even coming from. He wasn’t a fucking mechanic, and his limited knowledge made him doubt that he should be messing around with the little black lid that, perhaps, had something to do with the engine...
“Are you okay?” a gentle voice inquired from somewhere behind him, and Changbin turned around in surprise.
For a moment, Changbin was rendered speechless, looking the unfamiliar stranger up and down before he realized something quite profound: she was beautiful. “Uh...” Changbin trailed off, pointing at his van. “I broke down.”
“I can try to give you a jump,” she offered, and Changbin nodded his head while the woman smiled. “Has this happened before?”
“Not like this,” Changbin said, watching her return to her own car, and no, Changbin was not staring at her ass.
“It’s probably the radiator,” she explained, wrapping the battery cables around her arm. “But I can look at the engine for you.”
Changbin nodded, watching the kind stranger sit down behind the wheel, attempting to turn over the ignition with no luck. “It’s not the battery,” she said. “Believe it or not.”
Changbin shrugged. “I don’t really know what I’m doing.”
“That’s fine,” she said, giving him one of the most genuine smiles that he had ever seen. “I can help.”
“I’d appreciate that,” Changbin said, and he stood aside to allow her access to the van’s plethora of interesting offerings under the hood.
“My name is Sara by the way,” she said. “I’m a mechanic downtown.”
“Really?”
“My brother actually owns a shop,” she explained. “I can have it towed there for you. Free of charge.”
“F-free?” Changbin stuttered because he knew that those kind of services cost more than a pretty penny, but Sara seemed perfectly indifferent.
“Yeah.” She laughed, raising her arms above her head and exposing a sliver of skin at her stomach. “Is that okay? I can also take you home.”
“Oh!” Changbin remarked like the intellect that he was these days. “There’s no need for that, I can call someone.”
“Are you sure?” she asked, fetching her own phone from a loose pocket. “I’ll call the office and send for the tow truck. My brother does work for pretty low prices, and I think he can save your car for you. As long as you’re okay with that?”
“That would be great!” Changbin said. “I mean, it’s been a while since it’s had anything done.”
Sara nodded, holding out her phone for Changbin. “Just give me your number. We can call you and keep you informed, and we won’t do anything pricey without your permission.”
“Thank you,” Changbin said, quickly adding his phone number under the new contact option. “You’re literally a lifesaver.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” she said, leaning against the side of the van. “Do you live around here?”
“Just down the road,” Changbin said, dialing Chan’s number before holding the phone up to his ear. “But, seriously, I’m really grateful for all of this.”
“Please, don’t mention it,” she said. “You looked like you were having a rough day, and I know how that feels. Like, when the whole world seems like it’s falling down around you, the last thing you need is something like this to happen.”
Changbin chuckled, finding himself enamored with the way Sara liked to chew on her bottom lip as if in deep thought. “Yeah,” he said, hearing Chan’s voice reach out to him from the other end. “But it’s not always bad.”
Changbin called Chan to come pick him up after Sara made arrangements with her brother to tow the van to their shop downtown. She smiled at Changbin and reassured him that everything would be handled. “I just want to make sure that you’re okay,” she said, and Changbin didn’t know how to respond to that because it had been a long time since someone wanted to take care of him.
She eventually left after Changbin reassured her that Chan was on his way, but he could still see her lingering around her car until Chan finally pulled over to the side. “Hey! Get in already!”
Changbin closed his eyes, and quickly made himself comfortable in the passenger’s seat after Chan’s embarrassing comment. “Just drive,” Changbin muttered.
Chan obeyed, pulling back onto the road before letting out an irritated sigh. “You said on the phone that you took care of the van,” Chan said. “How much will it cost to have it towed?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing!?”
Changbin smirked. “I met someone who offered to have it towed for free. She’s bringing it to her brother’s shop downtown.”
“A mechanic’s shop?” Chan asked. “We can’t really afford anything outrageous...”
“She said that she would call when they found the problem,” Changbin said. “We don’t have pay anything unless we have the work done.”
Chan scoffed, reaching up to adjust his mirror. “If it’s something to do with the engine, then we might as well have the damn thing sent to the junkyard. We’d have more luck buying something else.”
“Yeah,” Changbin agreed absent-mindedly because he couldn’t stop thinking about Sara. “Did you buy the stupid snacks Jisung asked for?”
“I bought what you sent me,” Chan replied, and he sent Changbin a look that said: if it’s wrong, then it’s your fault!
“Thanks for helping out,” Changbin muttered sarcastically, and he resigned himself to looking out the window for the remainder of the trip home while Chan continued to talk on and on about possible options to replace the van. It wasn’t that Changbin was ignoring him, but he had heard enough about their troubles to last him a lifetime. Chan also liked to take everything to the extreme, and Changbin was usually left to deal with the repercussions.
In any case, the sight of the house was an enormous relief as Changbin all but threw himself out of Chan’s car, escaping another needless lecture. He could see his bedroom window from the front lawn, and he longed to escape to his room and pass out in the quiet darkness. However, Changbin should’ve anticipated that the rest of his family would all be downstairs after catching wind of his incident with the van on the side of the road. And the first person to speak out was Jisung, who called Changbin into the living room, eyes glowing with the reflection of the TV screen.
“I heard the van finally gave out,” Jisung said, sitting up on the couch and dropping the remainder of his potato chips into the floor. “Shit!”
“Jisung!” Chan snapped, propping his hands on his hips like he was some kind of middle-aged mom who was about to reprimand her son. “Clean up that mess!”
“Fine,” Jisung groaned, and he followed Changbin into the kitchen. “Ya! Are these my snacks?” he asked, snatching the bag from across the counter.
“That’s all I’ve been hearing about for an entire week!” Hyunjin remarked, and Changbin realized that the kitchen was almost completely full of his house mates.
Y/N smiled, standing next to Minho as she reached out to tug on Hyunjin’s sleeve. “You’ve been complaining just as much.”
“No, I haven’t!” Hyunjin protested, and Changbin despised how loud it was while he grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. Especially when Jisung’s displeased whine managed to overwhelm all of the other white noise.
“You brought home the wrong snacks again!” Jisung whined, and Changbin must’ve worn out the last reserves of his patience at the post office and on the side of that stupid back road when he abruptly turned around to confront the younger man.
“Why don’t you drive your own lazy ass to the grocery store and buy whatever the fuck it is that I can’t seem to find!”
“Changbin!” Chan gasped, and there was an immediate silence that followed his outburst as most of the members looked at him with matching expressions of shock.
“I’m tired,” Changbin excused himself, even knowing that it was a lousy thing to say in place of an apology. But he didn’t need to hear Chan speak another word, and hadn’t Changbin endured enough drama for one day?
Instead, Changbin walked upstairs, and he could finally breathe again when he re-discovered the solitude of his bedroom, and there were already tears forming at the corners of his eyes when he collapsed on top of his bed. It had been a while since he really cried, and Changbin rarely showed any kind of weakness around the other members because he was the second oldest - and there was an expectation that he should be strong for everyone else, even when he was screaming on the inside.
But there was only one other person in the entire world who had ever truly seen him break down - and she was standing in the doorway, looking at him with eyes that reflected her understanding. “Changbin?” Y/N whispered, closing the door behind her as she crawled into the bed next to him.
“Yeah?” Changbin murmured because his voice was muffled by the pillows. Even so, Y/N didn’t hesitate to lay down next to him on the bed, pressing herself as close as possible considering the limited space.
“You’re not okay,” she remarked, and Changbin shook his head as one arm wrapped itself around his waist.
“I didn’t mean to snap at Jisung,” Changbin said, and Y/N simply nodded as she held him even tighter.
“It’s not your fault, okay?” Y/N whispered, and Changbin nodded, looking at her fondly while he managed to prop himself up on the bed.
“It was a long fucking day,” Changbin said. “I hate that stupid van.”
Y/N smiled. “At least Chan has no choice but to fix it, right?”
“Or buy something else,” Changbin remarked, and they were both silent for a while. But Changbin didn’t mind the quiet. After all, it was everything that he wanted ever since Chan had picked him up on the side of the road.
“Tell me what’s wrong,” Y/N eventually requested, and Changbin’s stomach twisted at the thought of opening up and exposing his darkest feelings - the loneliness that he felt these days, and the stupid reason why he missed having the younger members want something more from him other than cheap snacks.
“I don’t know,” he said, deciding to settle on a different version of the truth. One that still made him look strong without having to reveal the weaknesses clawing away at his insides.
“Well,” Y/N said, “when you figure it out, you can always talk to me.”
Changbin nodded again. “Are you staying with me tonight?”
There was an intolerable level of desperation in his tone that made him wince, but Y/N wasn’t the kind of person who would judge. “Yeah,” she said, rubbing her hand along his stomach. “I’ll be here.”
Changbin sighed because Y/N would never understand just how much those simple words meant to him. Because sleep suddenly came much easier, and Changbin allowed his eyes to close while wrapped around Y/N.
Later on, Changbin woke-up without much warning to an empty feeling in his stomach, and he realized that he had skipped dinner. Subsequently, he managed to make his way downstairs to the kitchen, finding the leftovers from dinner waiting inside the fridge. His stomach growled, and Changbin reached for the bowl, examining the contents inside before he walked over the microwave.
“You want to tell me what your little tantrum was all about?”
Changbin sighed, glancing up at Chan as he stood behind him wearing a familiar scowl. “Not really,” Changbin replied, punching the buttons on the microwave.
“Jisung wanted me to let you know that he’s sorry,” Chan said. “But I don’t know why he’s the one apologizing.”
Changbin shrugged, sliding a hand through his hair while forcing himself to meet Chan’s stern gaze. “What do you want me to say?”
“Is it because of work?” Chan asked. “Do you need to take less hours?”
“No,” Changbin lied, startling when the microwave began to beep in succession. He grabbed his food and held it against his chest. “I don’t really think work is bothering me.”
Chan’s shoulder dropped as his expression softened. “Did Y/N talk to you?”
Changbin nodded. “Look, I’ll apologize to Jisung when I come home tomorrow.”
“He’s sensitive,” Chan said, even though Changbin already knew that. “Did they say when the van would be ready?”
“I think Sara said something about this weekend,” Changbin responded, and he took a bite of his food without really considering what he had just told Chan.
“Sara?”
Changbin winced. “Yeah, the girl who helped me earlier.”
“Ah!” Chan acknowledged. “I guess she made an impression.”
“She was really nice,” Changbin said, and Chan sent him a look that Changbin couldn’t quite decipher. In fact, it almost made the atmosphere between them awkward, and Changbin cleared his throat. “I’m going back upstairs.”
“Okay,” Chan said, and Changbin quickly retreated from the kitchen before he was asked any more questions.
On his next day off, Changbin received a voicemail from Sara that told him the van had been inspected. He was invited to the shop so that he could hear the full report for himself in person. It was a seemingly mundane business exchange, but Changbin found himself bursting with excitement when he walked inside the main office, discovering Sara standing behind the counter.
“Hey,” Changbin said, trying to act cool by stuffing his wandering hands into the pockets of his leather jacket.
“The van might not make it,” she replied with an apologetic look. “When’s the last time you had it inspected?”
Changbin cleared his throat, looking at the ground when he shrugged. “I don’t remember.”
It was a sheepish response, and Changbin expected to hear some kind of lecture about the importance of vehicle safety. Instead, she laughed at his disregard, leaning against the wall with a wide smile. “I kinda figured, but that’s okay.”
Changbin drew in his bottom lip, chewing on the raw skin as he thought about something cool to continue their conversation - maybe something that could allow him the rare honor of hearing that beautiful laugh again. “Its not something we prioritized,” Changbin explained.
“We?”
“The people I live with,” Changbin elaborated, studying the interesting way that the sunlight managed to form a halo of sorts around Sara’s soft brown hair.
“Oh? Kinda like housemates?” Sara asked, and she pulled a file from the heavy stack of folders waiting on top of the counter.
“You could say that,” Changbin agreed.
“I think it’s interesting,” Sara told him. “Do you wanna see the van? We can talk about it inside the garage.”
Changbin nodded without hesitation, and Sara led him out the side door which brought them to the attached metal building. It smelled like gasoline and rubber - plus an assortment of other scents that he could only associate with a place like this. And he spotted the van in the very last spot, looking worse for wear with its peeling paint and general abuse.
“So, you definitely need a new radiator,” Sara explained as they paused next to the van. “But I also found a lot of things that need replacing: tires, battery, back-up lights, windshield, and maybe some of the plugs inside...”
“Really?” Changbin asked, and he didn’t need to know a damn thing about cars to understand that all those repairs would cost way too much money.
“I can give you a discount,” Sara said. “I don’t know if it’ll help much.”
Changbin sighed, pulling up the sleeves of his t-shirt as a nervous habit. “I don’t think we can afford it right now.”
“Well, there’s always other options,” Sara said, perfectly understanding. “We actually sell used cars across the road. I’d love to offer you something at a good price. Maybe we could set-up some payment plans to help with your budget.”
Sara may actually be a literal angel, Changbin thought to himself. “Can I see them?”
“Of course,” Sara said. “It’s just across the street, and if you want, we can stop inside the convenience store for some drinks. My treat, of course.”
Changbin looked at her like she had just solved all of the world’s greatest problems. Because he couldn’t remember the last time someone had treated him, nor could he think of a moment in time where he felt the peculiar tugging on his heartstrings. Almost like something completely novel was opening up right in front of his eyes.
“Sure,” Changbin agreed, and that’s how he spent the rest of the day next to Sara’s side, perusing a wide selection of perfectly suitable replacements for the van while talking about anything and everything that had nothing to do with cars or the predicament of Changbin’s financial situation. Instead, Sara surprised him by asking about the things that most people wouldn’t care about - which do you prefer? Long walks on the beach or an overnight stay in a mountain cabin? What do you fear the most? Do you have an opinion on the toxicity of celebrity culture?
That last one surprised Changbin, especially when he realized that Sara was basically a living and breathing genius. It made him realize that they were a lot alike in that regard - judged because of their occupations, but they were actually so much more than what people might perceive. He was only rapidly coming to the conclusion that he really liked Sara. A lot. More than he ever thought possible considering their brief introduction.
Maybe it was some kind of fated connection - the type that everyone wanted to experience. It wasn’t exactly love, but then again, Changbin knew that love could be felt in different ways. For example, the love he had for Y/N wasn’t comparable to these foreign feelings that he only expressed around Sara. In the same way that Changbin’s love for his mother was nothing like what he had for his family members.
Ultimately, Changbin thought that there was, at the very least, a possibility of something with Sara, but was he willing to pursue it? Because this something might take a lot of his time and attention, and would his family be okay if he wasn’t giving them 110% of his effort and dedication? More importantly, was he brave enough to even try? Did he deserve it?
There was too much to think about, and Changbin left Sara at the mechanic’s shop with a simple promise that he would talk to Chan about buying another used car to replace the van. In the meantime, Changbin could only think of one person who might help him sort through these confusing feelings.
Likewise, Changbin made sure that he beat Minho home, finding Y/N in her basement bedroom reading alone. He knocked once on the door, alerting Y/N to his presence. “Hey,” Changbin said.
Y/N smiled. “You were gone a while.”
“There was a lot to discuss,” Changbin said, schooling his expression before meeting Y/N’s gaze. “Will you take a nap with me?”
Y/N glanced up in obvious surprise - because she wasn’t used to hearing Changbin ask for things like this, especially after the revelation of her relationship with Minho. “Okay.”
Changbin was relieved by her easy, and unquestioning, compliance. But that was one of the best things that he liked about Y/N - she always knew when she needed to ask questions versus when the moment called for contemplation. And in this moment, Changbin needed Y/N to have a lot of patience with him, curling up together on their sides as he met her gentle gaze somewhere in the middle.
“I met someone,” Changbin said, looking over at Y/N as she gazed at him with a complete look of understanding. “We’ll, we’ve met before, but today was different.”
“Binnie,” she cooed, leaning in close so that their foreheads were touching. “Do you have a crush on the mechanic?”
Changbin scoffed, moving away while Y/N giggled at the rosy color decorating his cheeks. “I don’t have time for crushes.”
“Why not?” Y/N asked, and her smile was gone in exchange for a far more serious tone.
“I don’t know,” Changbin said. “I’ve got to help take care of the house.”
Y/N was quiet for a moment, and Changbin closed his eyes because he was suddenly exhausted. “Changbin,” she finally said. “I hope you don’t mean that you can’t have someone special in your life just because of us.”
“No,” Changbin said, but there wasn’t much conviction behind that one simple negative, and Y/N definitely knew that he was lying.
“Hey,” Y/N said, forcing their gazes to meet. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”
Changbin shivered. “Noticed what?”
“You look really sad these days, Changbin,” Y/N whispered. “I don’t know why, but you keep trying to hide it from us.”
Changbin studied the raw intensity in Y/N’s gaze, and it was a powerful force - capable of knocking down all those cruel walls that he had built around himself. “I just want to keep you safe,” he said, feeling the promise of tears sting the raw skin around his eyelids. “But nobody really needs me anymore.”
“Changbin,” Y/N said, but it was just a simple intonation of his name, free of judgement. It said so much with so little, and it let him know that Y/N was shocked by Changbin’s confession, but she wanted him to elaborate and explain himself without interruption.
“For most of my life,” Changbin said. “I was pushed aside and treated like shit. It happened with my father, and I’ve had to face criticism from my bosses and those assholes I lived with before coming here.”
Changbin sighed, closing his eyes. “I just wanted to be accepted, and I never felt that until Chan let me stick around. Instead of being pushed away, everyone welcomed me with open arms, and they genuinely liked having me around because they needed me. I didn’t even have to pretend to be someone better.”
Y/N nodded - her only acknowledgement - before Changbin continued. “I knew you guys would grow up one day, but it started to feel like I wasn’t really needed anymore. I guess it might sound stupid, but I really do feel lonely sometimes when I come home from my shitty job and there’s nobody around to really say anything.”
And there it was - his true and honest feelings were exposed for Y/N, and he laid perfectly still as she ensured that he was finally finished with all that baggage that he had been carrying around on his shoulders. “Binnie,” Y/N finally said. “I’m sorry that you felt that way because you don’t deserve it, and I would never invalidate your feelings and tell you that you had no reason to feel a certain way. It actually makes sense to me, which is why I’m really glad you said something. Because you like to keep your feelings bottled inside, and I hate to see you suffer when you do.”
She sighed, reaching for his hand to connect their fingers. “Just because we’ve grown up,” Y/N said, “it doesn’t mean that you suddenly matter less. I mean, without you, we wouldn’t be this happy, and you contribute so much to that happiness. And I’m not just talking about your job.”
Changbin swallowed, placing his hand over his chest because his heart was suddenly beating so fast. “I miss the people that I live with,” he said. “How is that possible?”
“You’re feelings don’t have to make sense,” Y/N said. “But they matter because it’s you, and I want to do everything to help, and I’m sure the others would feel the exact same way.”
Changbin nodded, slowly, and he wasn’t sure what to make of all those feelings just sitting out there - raw and vulnerable, but he was also quite certain that he could trust Y/N. “I’ve never felt like this while living here,” Changbin said. “I don’t know what to do.”
“Let’s just start by talking like this whenever we have problems,” Y/N whispered. “You might think I’m pushing you away, but you’re still one of the only people who understands everything that I went though before I came here. Nobody can replace the level of comfort I feel with you.”
Y/N’s words were heavy, but not in a suffocating kind of way. Instead, it felt like a warm embrace, and Changbin just managed to hold back his tears at the sincere expression. “Thank you, Y/N,” Changbin finally said. “You have no idea how much that means to me.”
“I might know something,” Y/N said, and her voice suddenly took on a teasing tone. “Is she pretty?” Y/N asked, and Changbin couldn’t fight his smile.
“She’s beautiful,” Changbin said, and Y/N laughed with her usual playful inflection as she leaned in closer.
“We could go on double dates,” Y/N whispered, and Changbin laughed at the innocent smile stretching the corners of her lips. “But, seriously? Don’t hide these feelings from any of us, Changbin. We all care about you, and maybe it’s time we return the favor after all those years of letting you protect us.”
Changbin nodded - it was all that he could manage. “That might be nice.”
“Yeah,” Y/N agreed. “I think so too.”
And then they were both quiet after that - resigned to these new and confusing feelings. But they had each other to figure them out, and that was enough for Changbin to feel completely unburdened.
Changbin called Sara on a Sunday afternoon - the only day of the week when he wasn’t required to work at the post office. He knew that the mechanic shop was closed, but Sara was perfectly willing to meet him. “I think we’re interested in the SUV,” Changbin told her over the phone, and Sara was just fine scheduling an appointment.
That was over an hour ago, and Changbin hesitated at the sight of Sara waiting near the entrance to the main office. Because, unlike what he suggested over the phone, there was something else that Changbin planned to ask her, and it was scary to think about what might happen. Especially if she told him no.
But Changbin was an adult, and he didn’t plan to spend all day cowering in Chan’s car, so he met Sana outside with a smile that he hoped wouldn’t give away his nervousness. “Hi,” Changbin said, holding up a hand in greeting.
“There you are,” Sara said, and she looked nothing short of elegant in her dress pants and blouse - like she had gotten all dressed up for this occasion. “Are you ready?”
Changbin nodded, and he spent the time that it took for them to make their way across the street to reorganize the chaos of his rampant thoughts. Meanwhile, Sara had grabbed the keys to the SUV that he wanted to buy, and she was busy opening all the doors to air out the stuffy interior. “It’s fairly updated,” she told him, demonstrating the power windows and bluetooth radio system. “What do you think?”
“It’s better than the van,” Changbin admitted, and it was nice that there weren’t stains all other the leather upholstery.
“I think it’ll make a worthy substitute,” Sara agreed. “We’re selling it for $4,500, but I’m willing to negotiate the price, especially for you.”
Changbin glanced up at that because his heart had skipped several beats at the idea of Sara doing something for him. “It would really help us out,” Changbin said. “You’ve been amazing considering everything that’s happened.”
“Yeah, well, I can tell that you’re worth the extra effort,” Sara said, and Changbin couldn’t believe his ears because it sounded too good to be true. Almost like Sara was flirting with him.
But maybe this was the opening that he had been looking for...
“I’d really like to make it up to you,” Changbin said, and he hoped that those words sounded sincere instead of something akin to a business deal.
“Really?” Sara asked, flashing him a warm smile. “What do you mean?”
“If you want,” Changbin said, pausing for a moment to exhale. “I’d like to take you out sometime.”
“Oh?” she grinned, leaning against the SUV next to him, and Changbin could feel her soft breath since they were suddenly very close together.
“I’d really like that,” Sara replied, and Changbin’s shoulders fell at his relief upon hearing her confirmation.
“Are you sure?” Changbin asked because he was always doubting himself. “I mean, you don’t have to-”
“Changbin,” Sara interrupted, taking another step closer to the point where it felt like they were sharing the same air. “I want to be with you, and I’m glad that you asked me because I don’t want this to be nothing more than a mechanic helping out a customer. Do you understand?”
Of course, he did, but that didn’t stop Changbin’s stomach from doing somersaults while he desperately tried to compose himself. “How do you feel about double dates?”
Sana laughed at that, and, for the first time since before he could remember, Changbin felt completely at ease.
95 notes
·
View notes
Oooooo girl I love these prompts!!! For a wild one hows about Robb Stark with genre3 trope2 and locashion7????
A Promise to the Moon
Robb Stark x Reader - 3873 Words - More Freaky Fics
Notes: This is a a dark fic, a Gothic Romance!AU in the style of Jane Eyre, Wuthering Heights, it features references and occasional quotes from both. I also emulated the writing style (prose and exposition heavy).
The requested prompts were: haunted house/ghost story, memento mori, and a secluded castle/manor. The ghost elements got lost as I wrote it- sorry!
Warnings: a toxic/icky relationship with controlling/possessive behavior (just like the ones in the afformentipmed novels), the word “fuck” is used once, light smut, dated health methods like leeches and bloodletting, major character death. There is no happy ending, Enjoy Responsibly ❤️
- - -
“Let the wind come shake me down! /Deliver me closer to the ground/ I made a promise to the moon.” -Jason Webley
The newspaper advertisement had asked for educated persons of age to apply for the position in person. The grand Winterfell Estate sat desolate among the moors, fog-covered bogs and copses of sickly forests mottled the land and turned the beautiful countryside into a crypt.
The owner and solicitor, a Mister Stark, had requested a tutor for his troubled little sister the estate’s only current inhabitant.
The locket around your neck held your mother’s portrait and served as your only reminder of the life you once lived. Lost in a strange and new place you relied on its familiar weight for comfort.
As you approached the Estate you noticed their family name was carved into the arch above the wooden door. It announced you as an intruder, and your locket confirmed you as an outsider. It made you miss the place you once called home.
The Housekeeper was more than amiable and the child, Arya as you learned she was called, was a verifiable genius. You knew instantly she would benefit from one-on-one specialized instruction. As for Mister Stark, he had yet to appear around the estate- the Housekeeper herself interviewed and appointed you to the position.
The work itself was exhausting and after a week of it, you were desperate for a brief moment of solitude. Arya was never satiated, her thirst for life and adventure outpaced any sort of book work and left you aching from chasing her around.
It was past midnight, the moon already hidden in the vast inky sky when you slunk into the sitting room. You lit the lamps and settled in with one of the many tomes that adorned the room. The pages felt brittle under your fingertips and you turned them ceaselessly.
An accented voice pulled you from the book’s pages, the shock made you snap the book closed harder than you would’ve liked.
“Now what’s a decent sort like you doing out of bed at this hour?”
A man leaned against the entryway, a smile on his face that made you feel exposed and downright sinful. The dark brown of his eyes was mirrored in the curls of his hair which were highlighted with light licks of a scandalous silver that seemed to sparkle under the sparse candlelight.
He smirked and it felt like you were falling through the floor. You could see luggage behind him in the hallway and you wondered why the Housekeeper hadn’t been alerted- and why you hadn’t been warned of such a distinguished intrusion.
“Certainly Sir, you know I cannot answer that,” you said shortly.
You rose quickly, shelved the book, and turned to leave. It was late and the entire situation was highly improper- yet he blocked your path a cheeky grin on his face.
“Have I frightened you?” He taunted you with a wolfish grin, and you felt your face grow hot.
“I am not frightened,” you lied smoothly, “I just wish to retire for the evening.”
He laughed openly seeing right through you. He stepped aside anyway but caught your wrist as you passed. You froze instantly and trembled as he brought your knuckles to his lips. “Goodnight then,” he spoke with a smirk the strange concoction of trepidation and intrigue evident as you pulled away and ran from the room.
It wasn’t until you were secure in your room, your hands clasped over your thundering heart, that you realized he must’ve been your employer whose portrait hung in the very hallway you just ran through.
You struggled to fall asleep, staring up at the ceiling until you thought shapes were starting to appear in the darkness. Yet you must’ve as the next thing you remembered was a burst of light and a loud noise waking you up.
“Oh me!” The Housekeeper wailed, as she announced herself in your chambers the next morning. You winced as she threw open the damask drapes, the sunlight almost blinding.
“I need you to keep Arya on her best behavior today,” she started ranting pulling your clothes out for the day in a flurry, “Mister Stark has returned and the entire west wing must be prepared immediately so I cannot manage the little miss!”
Typically the staff was prepared to assemble his rooms at a moment's notice. The estate’s Master was known to appear and disappear for any length of time at will.
You let the Housekeeper prepare you, and lead you to the same sitting room for your formal introduction. As you entered the room Robb eyed you hungrily and you knew the setting was chosen intentionally.
Embarrassment washed over you as the previous night’s run-in resurfaced in your mind. The only thing you could do was make a heaven out of hell, so you bolstered what confidence you could. No matter how charming and handsome he might be, he wouldn’t win the satisfaction of seeing your unease.
The Housekeeper cleared her throat and shuffled forward, “may I introduce-“
“Mister Stark,” you said smartly cutting her off and gliding forward. You could feel her ire at your break in tradition but knew this was the best way to regain some control over the situation. You smiled coyly and shook his hand with as much indifference as you could muster despite the anticipatory anxiety building in your body.
“Robb, please,” he insisted lightly. He watched you like a cat might watch a mouse and you felt a shiver course through your body as he openly looked over it.
“Is this proper enough an introduction?” The sarcastic lilt to his voice matched his devilish smirk, and you had to admit it was a good look for him.
“You’ll have to forgive me I’m often wary of new faces,” you said sitting across from him, “especially those belonging to nefariously enigmatic gentlemen.”
Robb laughed openly, and in a manic burst of motion took your hand in his. Your heart raced at his slight touch and you tried your best to suppress the smile on your face.
“And how do you find Winterfell? Is she fitting for such a roguish bachelor?”
Your smile faltered briefly, “the estate is beyond magnificent but, I can’t help feeling as if her halls ought to have more life within them.”
Robb nodded to the Housekeeper who still lingered in the doorway, “I do believe that is the first honest answer I’ve ever been given on the subject.”
“It would seem so Sir,” she chirped dutifully.
“Well perhaps I shall extend my stay,” he said a wicked smile spreading across his face as he turned his gaze back to you, “and see what other truths you might impart upon me.”
The Housekeeper made a small disgruntled noise in protest before leaving to summon Arya into the sitting room to formally receive her brother. Apparently, you weren’t the only one to gain her disapproval.
Within the short moment, Robb stood and crossed to stand over you. You titled your face towards him unconsciously, his face close enough to feel his breath on yours as he spoke.
”You intrigue me, ” he said, desire palpable in his voice, ”I will not suffer to let you go again when I wish to become better acquainted.”
You could feel the underlying threat in his words but the temptation to close the space between you eclipsed whatever caution lived in your mind.
You couldn’t explain what drew you to him, despite your better judgment. The only comfort you had was knowing how similarly affected he was by you. Your breath hitched in your throat as he suddenly backed away.
Arya bounded into the room not a moment later, the now frazzled Housekeeper rushing behind her trying to contain the girl. You smiled as they appeared, thankful for the distraction.
The next week was filled with similar close calls filled with double entendres, lingering touches, and companionship like you had never known before. After a month had passed in such a manner it was clear why he was staying- and the house dared to dream that for once he might stay forever.
Like most dreams, it was better left ignored. On another night you strolled under the moonlight along the estate’s often forgotten terraces. Robb held you by the waist as you walked, his grip lower and harsher than would’ve been deemed appropriate. Occasionally, the moon peaked out to reveal a scandalous state of undress on your part, the casual clothes betraying the growing familiarity between you two.
“Winterfell is stunning under the stars, is it not?” Robb glanced at you while speaking and you thought he also looked magnificent highlighted by the cosmos.
You nodded in agreement looking out over the estate’s grounds and gardens.
"You must have become in some degree attached to the house?"
“To a degree,” you answered wryly.
"Arya seems to have become quite attached to you, and I’m willing to wager you to her as well,” Robb continued.
You hummed in agreement, “I believe there is a mutual attachment forming. She’s an extraordinary child."
Robb stopped walking suddenly and turned you harshly in his arms to face him. All traces of levity had melted from his face, replaced with a drastic seriousness you hadn’t expected. “And you would be sorry to part with them?”
You ran your hand over his reassuringly. “I think some part of me will be here always.”
Robb kept a level expression as he continued, waiting to gauge your reaction as he spoke. “Then it is indeed regrettable that Arya must attend a finishing school next year.”
You froze beside him, “next spring?”
Robb nodded solemnly, “I’ve talked it over with her nursemaid and the Housekeeper they both agree you’ve done wonders for her mind but- the decorum benefiting a lady of our station is not something a tutor can impart.”
He paused and spoke then as if he was reassuring himself of the decision, instead of revealing it to you. “So yes, it is imperative she attends a finishing school.”
“Then I must inquire toward other positions,” you mused suddenly afraid the ground under your feet might fall away beneath you.
“Would you be grieved to leave then? I know some schools might permit a lady’s maid to accompany her,” Robb shrugged, “it is the least I could do.”
You tensed and bit your lip, “for her sake I might be able but it is so far away...”
“From what?”
“From you!” You spoke headlessly, finally voicing the thoughts and desires that had grown within you.
“Then I must ask you,” he said hoarsely as if he was unsure for the first time, “forsake neither Arya nor the estate itself, pass through the rest of your life here.”
Your silence unnerved him and you wondered what joke he was playing at. He was by the designation of your employment your superior, he had occasionally offered you crumbs of affection and attention- yet you felt he must know your feelings towards him- and that this was some cruel joke on your behalf.
“Do you doubt me,” he asked when you didn’t answer.
"Entirely,” you said without hesitation. He was too unknown for certainty, too reckless and listless for dependence.
He scoffed openly at your response, "so you have no faith in me?"
"Not a whit."
“Then you shall be convinced,” he hissed gesturing wildly, “have I not treated you as my equal? Have I not entertained your thoughts and whims as I might a dearest friend? Have I not watched you like a man possessed? You strange, you almost unearthly thing,” he gripped your arm tracing the length of it with frenzied kisses, “you will be mine. I shall not suffer your absence in my life!”
You shuddered, a peculiar sob racking through your body as he entreated you.
“I- I cannot answer this,” you cried tearing yourself away, “I cannot choose between my heart and my mind. I cannot see how you love me but rather desire to possess me- and for what love I hold for you, I cannot yet resign my fate so quickly.”
He turned away from you harshly, familiar darkness returning to his eyes. “Then think on these things,” he demanded before stalking away, “I cannot remain here for you to torture me so!”
You could not retreat to your rooms and drop into the soothing arms of sleep, your mind was twisted and confused. What kind of a man manipulated your emotions as a declaration of love? Moreover, what kind of man could confuse love and possession so easily? Your thoughts remained dower as the sleepless night raced on.
As you joined Arya and the Housekeeper for breakfast the next morning you were disheartened to learn Robb had left again.
Two months passed without a word from Rob to you or any persons in his household. Although the grand estate was filled with other employees and your charge- his absence left you strangely cold. But perhaps that was the changing air drifting in from the study’s open window.
“Arya please,” you sighed, “finish the recitation and we can move on for the day.” You rubbed a hand over your temple, your patience growing thin with the young mistresses.
“I don’t want to keep reading boring old books! I want to go outside!” Arya whined as she dramatically closed and pushed the book away from her.
The poor thing had been acting out lately, and it was wearing you down. You sighed and tried to sound as encouraging as possible, “Arya as soon as we finish here I’ll have the Housekeeper scrounge up your play clothes.”
Arya huffed and pushed the stack of books off her desk and onto the floor before crossing her arms belligerently, “I won’t do it!”
“Is that any way to talk to your tutor?”
You looked over at the interruption, Robb leaned against the doorframe with a smile on his face that made you feel as if you were seeing the sun for the first time in days.
Arya shrieked excitedly at the sight of her brother and bolted from her chair to wrap her arms around him as much as she could. She babbled in great run-on-sentences trying to condense the last month without him into whatever fragment of time she currently had.
He listened politely, the entire time his eyes never left yours. “Arya, it is clear to me that you’ll have no capacity for more studies today,” he said, finally looking at his sister, “why don’t you take the dogs and see what you can discover outside?”
Arya howled and ran from the room, you could hear her rapid footfalls and exaggerated cries rousing the Housekeeper and kennel master to her aid.
Then it was just you and Robb. You stood rapidly and all but threw yourself into his arms. You moved without thinking, unsure if you could survive another second apart. He pulled you flush against him, his strong grip threatened to bruise your hips and you didn’t care. You rested your hands against his chest, unable to hide the smile on your face before you kissed him.
“I suppose this means you haven’t been preparing to completely divorce yourself from the estate,” Robb joked dryly.
“No,” you said a little dejectedly, “how could I, knowing you’re out in the world somewhere.”
You looked away from him suddenly overwhelmed, “It was like I couldn’t breathe like my life-my very soul was separated from me.”
You tried to step away but Robb didn’t relinquish his hold on your waist and moved a hand to keep yours on his chest.
“You’ve absolutely ruined me,” he hissed tightening the grip on your wrist, “do you think I wanted to come back? Do you think I want to be here right now?”
“Let go of me,” you gasped struggling against him your face heated with indignation.
For a second the confidence and malice in Robb’s voice faltered, “stay- do not leave me where I cannot find you!”
“But I didn’t go anywhere,” you insisted, “I’ve been right here doing what I was hired to do.” You were trembling, no longer trying to escape his embrace yet not entirely afraid.
Robb laughed darkly and kissed the top of your head, “you’ve bewitched me body and soul, like some heathen wretch. You pulled me back here. You command me when I have no desire to be commanded.”
He moved to grip your jaw and turn your face to look up into his, the image was striking. You looked spent, as if he’d taken you- your body warm and trembling against him, your breaths shallow and rushed.
“If you left this room I would find you,” he whispered his voice low and heady, sending a shiver down your spine. “If you tried to leave this house I’d track you down.”
“Sir, you forget yourself,” you said lowly. Your voice threatening to break as your body responded wantonly.
“Do I?” He laughed darkly and moved to kiss down the column of your neck pulling phantom moans from your lips. His breath fell warm on your neck and you shuddered as his hand released your jaw and traveled to rest at the base of your neck.
You heard him kick the door closed behind you and a new spark of excitement and fear spread through your body.
The slight pressure at the base of your neck made you ache deliciously. You didn’t stop the strangled moan that fell from your lips as his grip tightened and you chose to put whatever doubts you had away for the moment. You wanted it to be you and him without context or strings to complicate what you were about to do.
Robb released you only to tear at your clothes, his hands running harshly over each flash of newly exposed skin until the locket around your neck was the only thing you wore. You wantonly returned the favor scraping your nails across his broad shoulders, savoring each groan that slipped from his lips.
You pressed yourself against him, your bodies skin-to-skin as the tension grew. Each touch was dizzying as if your bodies had been molded to respond to each other. His mouth claimed yours again before biting his way down your neck and you moaned as they bloomed into warm bruises.
“Robb please,” you begged your body no longer content with lingering touches and harsh passes of lips and teeth. You said his name like it was the only prayer you ever learned- the only one that mattered.
Almost tenderly he laid you down across one of the study’s couches. His fingers softly traced the side of your body as if for that second he was truly in awe of your form. He ducked his head to kiss your chest, your locket falling back against your shoulder sending a flash of light across your body.
You impatiently reached and pulled him over you, weaving a hand through his hair as you moved him into a searing kiss. You felt him against you and you desperately hooked one of your legs around his hip urging him forward until nothing separated you.
You lay trembling under him, your grip on his shoulders the only real thing in the world until a ferocious rapping started at the closed door. You both froze hoping whoever it was would move on, instead, you could hear the Housekeeper muttering to herself as the knocking continued.
Finally, she called through the door, “Lady Arya has requested your presence for tea.”
Robb swore and pushed away from you hastily donning his clothes.
“Fuck,” you mumbled grasping wildly to cover yourself as Robb stormed from the room shouting at the Housekeeper the entire time.
Without looking at you she slid into the room, keeping herself turned away as you redressed.
“I do not apologize for the intrusion given the improper extenuating circumstances,” she said tersely, “but we will be taking tea alone as soon as you’re no longer... indisposed.”
“I see no reason why we should take tea alone,” you protested, “Arya would certainly fear something was amiss given our absence.”
She spun to face you her face still composed into a stern line, “it is precisely for Arya’s sake that I am concerned.” You had never heard her voice like that before and suddenly you felt like you were a child again being scolded at primary school without companions to defend you.
It was a trap; that was the only thing you were certain of as you sat across the wisened Housekeeper a pristine tea set between you.
“You are aware Mister Stark is our employer,” she said with a terse smile.
“Yes Ma’am I do.”
The older woman across from you pursed her lips and took a measured sip of her tea. “This has happened before,” she started quietly, “you don’t know what you’re getting into. He is too stern for grace, an unreclaimed creature.”
“He's more myself than I am,” you whispered harshly unable to meet the Housekeeper’s eyes.
“You will ruin this house if you stay,” she hissed reaching across the table to grip your arm. “There will be no going back if you give into him, think of Arya...”
You remembered the darkness behind his eyes, the harsh grip of his hands on your hips, and knew she was just as correct as you were- despite that you could feel the familiar tug in your heart that connected you and knew you couldn’t leave.
Of course, she had seen this passion play before. The ending was known to her, it was written on the estate’s walls plainly for everyone but you and your charge who hoped beyond measure for the happy ending that would not be coming.
Robb spent the next thirteen months within the claustrophobic walls of his grand estate, his venomous temper directed at everyone when they felt too restrictive. But he couldn’t fathom leaving with you there and unclaimed, unwatched, and unprotected.
Your frenzied romance and rushed engagement distracted you to no end. By the time you realized something was wrong your face refused to hold any color, and your entire body ached with pain and fever. The first time he left the estate grounds was to fetch your doctor. But, in essence, it was too late.
“Robb,” you called reaching for him. You struggled to breathe and the contented sigh on your lips disfigured itself into a ghastly groan that made your lover weep.
Your locket dangled from his hands like a rosary and you wondered if that strange blasphemous reverence played a part in this destruction.
Neither the leeches placed along the curve of your hip nor the soft drops of blood let from your arm could prevent the advancing cold that spread in your veins and eventually closed your eyes.
Your strangled coughs stopped, the air in your lungs ran cold and your blood stopped running altogether. The thin red lines flowing from your lips and skin dried and all at once, the bloody affair was over. There was no fanfare, the world didn’t end. Winterfell and her Master remained as they had for the last forty years and would for forty more without you. Nestled into the sparse and desolate countryside your ghost couldn’t even be tempted forth for comfort.
51 notes
·
View notes
FFXIV WRITE 2020: Crux (#1)
Arukh had wondered no few times during the last few years of his life if there was a limit to how much a man could endure before he could no longer be called a man at all. No few times had he wondered just how far away from that nebulous line he himself lie after nearly four decades of having that which he held to slip through his fingers, no matter how tight his grip.
Such were the thoughts that lingered upon his mind now as he lie back amongst the blankets and furs of his bed, staring up without focus towards the ceiling of the yurt above him.
He could remember a time before he knew loss's hateful touch. Those early years of his life had been few, but still full of vibrancy and warmth. He could remember clinging to his mother's skirts as she tended the cookfire, the smell of spices filling their home and the soft melody she hummed as she stirred. He could remember his father hoisting him up onto his shoulders as he went about his tasks for the day, tirelessly answering each and every question that had escaped from his inquisitive young mind. He could remember when his parents had explained to him that another would soon be added to their family, and the wonder he felt with his hand pressed against his mother's stomach.
Yet the memories of that time grew fuzzier at the edges with each passing year. He could no longer remember the notes that made his mother's song, nor all the questions he had asked his father much less their answers. Once, he had vividly remembered the sensation of the baby kicking against his tiny hand. Now, he struggled to remember if that had even happened at all or if it were simply a fabrication of nostalgic longing. The rest of his childhood memories had grown similarly fuzzy, if not forgotten at all.
It wasn't merely the march of time that had robbed him of these glimpses into the past though, of that he was convinced. It wasn't that he had never thought back to them save for fleeting occasions moons or years apart. Rather, they were often on his mind, a safe respite that he had clung to in the storm-tossed sea of his life. He thought of those times when he closed his eyes, and when he slept he dreamt of what they could have become if only things were different. And yet still, as close to heart as he kept them, they too were leaving him.
It was a vexing phenomenon, but not one that defied explanation. If anything, the explanation was painfully simple: loss, and his was a life marked by it. Cursed by it.
First, he had lost his family; not just his baby sister who had been taken from them, but his parents as well. After they had been forced to surrender Ghoa to the gods, they had never been the same. His mother's cheerful hums had been replaced with muffled sobs. His father's endless patience for his questions finally found its end, and he had grown quiet and distant. And of course, the baby sister he had been eagerly awaiting was stolen away from his future for reasons that he was too young to understand --- not that he truly understood them any better as a man grown.
Without a doubt, the sundering of his family was a deep wound, though perhaps it might have had a chance to properly heal in time had it been the only injury sustained. But his lot was to be born into a tribe for whom loss was an inevitability. Each year, as Arukh turned from child to adolescent to young man, he had stood by and watched as more were taken from him each time the Kharlu came to claim their due. Friends he had grown alongside. Aunts, uncles, cousins that shared his blood. Mentors that molded and shaped him into the capable young man he had become. So many people of significant importance to him had been taken, to serve as little more than battle fodder to soften the Jhungid assault for their newfound Kharlu masters.
And then finally, he too had been chosen, and what did remain to him of home had been ripped away as well.
In its place, Arukh had found himself thrown into what felt to be the deepest pit of the hells. That first year a slave, surrounded by those who treated him with indifference at best, he had gravitated towards those who shared his plight for any scrap of comfort and belonging he could muster. He had been warned against it, of course, but he hadn't listened. Not until after the first battle, at least, when the majority of those whom he had called friends laid slain around him. After that loss, he had grown far more reserved and withdrawn.
Scant few had expected him to survive that first battle. Fewer still, if any, expected him to keep surviving them, year after year. Perhaps it was only natural after he'd thrown all of his time and energy into the honing of his skills rather than the makings of fleeting camaraderie and its inevitable end. But eventually, his capability and his stubborn refusal to die earned him the opportunity to rise above the miserable state of slavehood he'd languished in for what felt like a veritable eternity.
It had seemed like a blessing at first, as such typically do when one still possessed even the slightest bit of hope. He had earned the right to shed the title of slave and worthy of claiming himself as Kharlu, and he had been given the duty to prepare newly captured slaves for the battle ahead of them. Perhaps this was his chance to change things, he had thought. Those who had trained him upon his arrival hadn't even bothered to learn his name, such was their apparent apathy. They had cared not if he lived or died, but he would be different. He would pour all he had into shaping them and preparing them for what was to come. He refused to let them surrender to the hopelessness of their situation ere they ever heard the first bellow of the warhorn. He could do it. He could save them. He had to save them, because that was the only way he could still save himself.
What a naive ideal it had been, he had realized in hindsight as he had walked through the healers' tents set up after the war to tend to the wounded. A few of those he had trained had made it back, but far from a majority. Yet even of those few, almost half of those who had returned had succumbed to their wounds but days later. After all, the best healers and the lion's share of their resources could not be wasted on expendables such as they when there were those more worthy of treatment.
After that, Arukh had realized just why those who had prepared him for war were so aloof. You had to be, lest the neverending grief drive you mad. No matter what he did, war was war. No matter how hard he trained them, his men and women were little more than living shields for the Kharlu warriors that followed after. For those on the front lines, skill was secondary to sheer luck, and the odds were stacked against them.
In the years that followed, things had eventually become easier. While he still worked diligently to prepare those in his charge for the battles ahead, Arukh no longer cared to learn their names or where they come from. He no longer sat around the cookfire with them, lending shoulders upon which they could rest their woes and worries. And he certainly no longer walked the healer's tents after each battle, hoping each bed held a familiar face come back to him. It had taken time and no small amount of hurt to master, but Arukh had gradually learned how to meet those that came to him and then silently bid them peace and farewell in the same breath.
But he wasn't ignorant of the fact that what had made these endless cycles of loss easier to weather was that each one carved out another piece of him as it passed. With less and less of him left, it was hard to muster up any manner of attachment at all anymore. Keeping everyone around him at arm's length, he had only a handful of acquaintances but none he would call friend. And while most others of his position and age had turned their focus to family, finding a wife and having children had never been thoughts he had even passingly entertained. Even his attachment to life itself was tenuous at best, with only the solemn sense of duty he felt to those in his charge keeping him from letting the chaos of the next battle take him.
One day, Arukh suspected, he would find the point he had long pondered the existence of when there was no more man left to him. When the next loss would become the last loss, because it had stolen away every lingering drop of his ability to feel anything at all. Maybe then he would no longer remember those days of his carefree, happy youth, but neither would he feel swallowed up by darkness and loneliness and hopelessness again. Truthfully, there was a part of him that had begun to yearn for that numbness, even if it meant letting go of what little light he had left to him.
But what if there was another way..?
That was the next question that haunted him now, echoing in his head in the voice of the very woman who had posed it to him but a few suns prior. Chakha had come seeking to recruit him into the small sect of conspirators who aimed to bring the yearly war to an end and thus peace to the coastlands. That she had chosen him for this had surprised him, especially given that he had tried to keep her, too, at a distance. Naturally, his first instinct had been to decline. But something had caused him hesitation. Whether it was the persuasiveness of her words or something long buried deep inside him, he did not know, but he had finally told her that he would consider it and return his answer to her soon.
Now he stood at a crossroads. A crux that would set the course for the rest of his days: whether he would reject the idea that the cycle of loss could ever be broken and resign himself to the inevitability of emptiness once there was nothing left to lose, or if he would choose to not only believe that such a miserable fate could yet be changed, not only for himself but for those who came after.
It was agonizing, this decision. Surrendering was easier, and far more comfortable. He suspected it wouldn't be much longer until he reached that anticipated point of no return should he stay his current course. But to fight was to force himself to feel again, to force himself to hope again. It risked reopening all the ugly wounds that had taken years now to heal, and that to him was far more terrifying than any battlefield he had ever set foot upon.
But again, he could not stop his mind from going back to those memories of the happy, bright-eyed boy he had once been. He could not stop thinking back to all of those he had lost across the years. Most of all, he could not stop thinking about those who would walk these lands after him and if they would find themselves walking the same miserable path he had forged because he had been too afraid to let himself be hurt again.
Arukh finally squeezed his eyes shut, softly cursing the watery sting that rose to them -- a sensation he hadn't felt now in years of which he had long since lost track. It felt terrible and great at the same time, that rushing torrent of now unfamiliar emotion.
And he knew his answer.
23 notes
·
View notes