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roger-that-cap · 3 years

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meet me in the gardens

knight!natasha x lady!reader

summary: being the widow of a decently wealthy lord and sitting on a large plot of land automatically meant that you were a candidate for the program that you couldn’t say not to; the hosting. you had to sponsor a knight and keep them in your home for an entire year, which was troublesome enough on its own. but you never expected your knight to be a woman, and you certainly didn’t expect to have a full on illegal love affair with her, either.

warnings: marriage lol, angsty knights and ladies, reality slapping mfs in the face almost too quickly

word count: 3.3k

hi guys,,, it has been a slow minute, thank you guys for even still clicking on this after all this time lmao

part seven!!

It was customary to have more than one handmaiden dress a lady for her wedding, but both you and Wanda knew that no one was going to be allowed to watch you break down from the inside out. There were no words between the two of you as she laced you up as an unmarried woman for the last time, your gown gorgeous and heavy with weight and meaning. You didn’t even sniffle as the tears ran down your face, eyes blazing with emotions that would be forever unspoken.

Wanda wiped your face and started to dress that up, too.

While you stood there, you couldn’t help but think of the night before. Dinner with Rumlow was an absolute travesty. He was rude, brutish, and even more of an animal than your last husband. He chewed like he was some type of wolf, smacked his lips far too loud, and was by far the rudest person to your staff. His language was of the pirates and his eyes wandered from you, to Wanda, to a younger girl, and then back to you with the same look of disgusting desire. It was painfully obvious that he was the type of man to see things and get things because he desired them. He was the type to break his toys, as well. He was horrible, and that was all before the eyes of other people. You started to feel sick when you thought about how brave he would be behind closed doors. The doors that would be closing very, very soon on the two of you.

The dinner was horrible, but the worst part was that Natasha wasn’t there. The worst part was always going to be her absence.

“You look so beautiful,” Wanda said, her voice a crackling and regretful whisper as she watched you in the vanity, a small and forced smile on her face. You met her eyes only for a second in the mirror before you turned them away, down to look at your covered feet.

“I’m being thrown away,” you said slowly, like the words were pulling themselves from your lips. “For the second time in my life. Is this the life of a woman that I tried to avoid so terribly? Is this the fate of all women?”

Wanda opened and shut her mouth, trying to find something to say that could possibly help you, and then she just shut it for good, her lips wobbling. You could feel her guilt radiating off of her, feel it stewing and brewing inside of her heart and chest even though it wasn’t her fault. You wanted to tell her that, to reassure her that she didn’t fail you like she thought she did, and that she never could fail you, but your lips were stuck together as white hot tears fell down your face.

There were three sharp knocks on your door, and you wiped your tears quickly, expecting someone to barge in. “Who is it?” You asked, the fake strength in your voice barely enough to hide the fact that you were crying and miserable.

“I’m Lord Rumlow’s-”

“You aren’t allowed in here,” Wanda responded roughly. “No one sees her until she comes out, that’s a rule.” And it was a rule, one that you had forgotten all about. No one was supposed to see the bride before she made her long walk to the groom. And even during the walk, a covering was supposed to be on the bride’s face, shielding her from the world. It was sickening. “So go away.” Wanda’s tone had whoever the man was nearly jogging away, not even asking a second question.

“I don’t know if I’m gonna be sick or not,” you muttered, and Wanda pushed the barrel that she brought earlier closer towards you.

“Use it if you need to, honey.” Just as you were about to bend over and give up the breakfast that you didn’t even eat, there were soft raps on the door.

“If have to tell you to go away one more time-”

“It’s me,” a familiar vice said, and Wanda immediately stopped talking. “And I brought someone else, too.” You picked your head up from the barrel and looked towards the closed door, trusting that Pietro wouldn’t have done anything stupid. Wanda felt the same, clearing the space between where she originally was and the door within seconds. Pietro came in, fumbling and looking at you with a pitiful smile. You turned away, and then there was a flash of red in the corner of your eye.

Your chest seized up.Your hands started to shake, and the tears that you had dried started back up all over again. “Oh.”

“Let’s leave them for a few moments, Pietro.” Wanda suggested, tugging him out of the room by the arm and leaving you and Natsaha in the room together, alone.

No one spoke for a long time.

You just stared at her, just like she stared at you, watching her chest rise and fall, and the guarded look in her eyes. She looked angry. But you knew her better than that. Sometimes, you wondered how you know her better than that because you had such a short time to know her at all. But it felt like you had watched a thousand sunsets and seen millions of river cycles with her. But it still wasn’t enough. And now, standing in front of her with a wedding dress that wasn’t meant for her at all, you knew that you had lied to her and to yourself that night at the river. Nothing was ever going to be enough.

“You look…” She started, taking a step closer to you. “You look stunning. You always have.”

You shook your head at her, looking away for a moment to gather your bearings. Your voice trembled as you tried to get something out, anything that would make the situation even a little better. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” You gave her a glare. “Don’t be. We both knew how this was going to end, and we both still continued. This isn’t shocking news to me, or you. It’s horrible, but we knew it was coming.”

In that moment, reality hit. All those stupid promises about going to the gardens or the woods behind Rumlow’s back seemed like a suicide mission. That one, long chat about running away seemed like two naive children after being scolded by their parents. You had been peacefully living in an untainted world with Natasha, when you of all people knew much better than that. “So, what? What point are you getting at?”

“I chose to go on being with you because I knew that regardless of where you were or where I was, or who you were with, that the love wouldn’t leave. I chose to have a little slice of happiness and knowledge that we tried, and that we had fun together. I chose to have that, and so did you. We know that we would have worked out, if this wasn’t happening. We know that if there’s another universe or another life, that we’ll end up together. Just not this time.” She took a step closer to you, her eyes lingering on your damp cheeks. “I’ll always be in love with you.”

You were realizing too quickly that a world where you were allowed to love her and she was allowed to love you was years and years away. It was a place you could only dream about, but all you had to work with was a world who didn’t tolerate true love in the face of duty, and a world who certainly didn’t tolerate two women together. You would not let her die for you, or your love.

“From afar,” you said, and for a second you were afraid that she would push you and ask why you were walking away. You were afraid that she wouldn’t get it. You had been jumping around in your own mind, making concrete conclusions at the drop of a hat and jumping to the next subject. You wondered if she was keeping up, if she was on the same page as you were even through all the skipping around.

It hurt to admit, but you were realizing that you were on the same page. Just the other night, you were promising forever, promising every second alone to each other. You promised a life of secrecy and adoration, and that was what your hopeful heart wanted. But now, you had a mind, and your mind knew it was life or death. Your mind knew that sneaking around wasn’t plausible and it held more potential for danger than you ever wanted to have. By the look in Natasha’s eyes, you could tell that she had made a complete turn, too. You were both at the same crossroads, staring at each other from feet away.

You had told her forever, and she had promised you the same, but it just wasn’t going to work. It never was going to in the beginning.

But then she nodded at you, a sad look in her eyes even though there was a tiny smile. “From afar.”

“Are you gonna be there?”

“To watch you get married?” She said, her face twisting up in disgust. “No.” Pause. “I can if you want me to be.”

You shook your head. “Don’t come.” She would already have to sit through the hours of barbaric celebration by law, but she didn’t have to watch the ceremony. Making her would be torture to you both.

“That’s what you want?” You nodded your head. “Then I won’t come.”

Your heart was racing in your chest, contrasting to the way you typically felt just content upon seeing her. “What if I told you that I wanted you to kiss me one last time?”

“I’d ask where all the time went, for us to be on our last already.”

You scoffed, more out of disbelief than because you found it funny. “Where did all the time go?”

She shrugged. “The stars ate it up.”

§§

You had to be one of the angriest brides the kingdom had ever seen. The veil covered your face, your hands trembled with nerves and fury, and your eyes held unshed tears. Wanda was whispering beside you as the room to the door opened, telling you that she would always have your back while the procession started, but you hardly heard a thing. All you could think of was that it was your second time being sold like a farm animal, being made to marry someone you hated. You hated it. You hated the High Priest. You hated that the distant king did nothing. You hated that you weren’t strong enough to put a knife through Lord Rumlow’s eye.

The procession was slow, as all processions for weddings were. Much to Lord Rumlow’s chagrin, you were being led by two people instead of one, who was supposed to be one of his knights. Wanda and Pietro led you, one on each side, the three of you linked by hand while it was traditionally by elbow. Your feet ached almost as much as your heart as you walked past people that you could hardly see because of the veil, but you could tell that they were in awe. The dress was long and beautiful, you had some of the most expensive jewelry money could buy, and you were sure that you looked like a princess. You could hear the whispers of people who were excited to watch a noble wedding, excited to have the feat that was entitled to everyone in the village after such a big event. You wanted to cry once you realized how unaware they were about the way you were forced into it.

Soon, you checked out of your own body. You were confident enough in Pietro and Wanda’s leading of you to close your eyes, holding back tears. If he lifted the veil and saw you crying, who knew what he would do? You saw stars when you did, constellations, clouds, even flashes of your favorite rose bushes. You took in a breath, eyes still closed as you tried to find a happy place. You prayed to the gods that the walk would be never ending, that the twins would lead you off in the forest and have you live as some sort of forest woman, fending for herself but free. But then their feet stopped.

“Today we have come under the light of the sun to see a love blossom,” your eyes snapped open as you blinked, squinting at the priest who was holding his brown book, even though he hardly needed it. He was talking without looking at it, eyes searching the crowd for attention. You rolled your eyes.

He seemed to talk for hours. You could feel Brock Rumlow next to you, taking Pietro’s spot on your right. Pietro made a displeased sound and stood next to Wanda, who was clenching your hand tightly, like she was terrified of letting you go. You were so far out that you didn’t even realize that he was done talking until you felt your right hand be grabbed by a rough one, one that reminded you of words and fights and blood. It was callous and cruel, and your head whipped around to see Brock Rumlow holding the deep red sash, his mouth moving in confidence as he repeated the vows that the priest said.

“Lady Y/N,” the priest said, and slowly, your veiled face turned his way. “Repeat after me, if you please. No, I do not please. You echoed every word with such monotony that it hurt your own sears. You saw Rumlow’s jaw twitch at your minor defiance. You tilted your head higher. “You may now wrap your hands.”

You watched him wrap both of your hands together with the thick, red ribbon. Your stomach lurched as you realized that there was no going back after the priest said the next words. You had already been through it once before. Your heart skipped beats in your chest. I’m never going to be free again. This is it. This is my last moment of freedom. My last moment of true happiness has gone with the wind.

“You may now unshroud your bride, and show her to the awaiting world.”

§§

The rest of the day passed in a blur. A common girl that Rumlow had nearly thrown your way was refused by you, and when she said that she was required to stay, you made her sit down while Wanda undressed you and put you into the comfortable yet delicate dress that brides wore after their weddings. She had to watch awkwardly as you sobbed in and out of Wanda’s arms, not even caring that she was there.

The tears were long gone by the feast and the anger had come out to play. Every time your new husband attempted to speak to you, you ignored him. There was a hard look in your eyes as you sat and watched everyone, watching the culture clash between your peaceful people and his rowdy men and women. They were the ones drinking quickly, belching, laughing far too loudly for your taste, and being crude. Your people had separated themselves from them and were talking amongst themselves, no doubt becoming worried because of your demeanor.

“You’ve only spoken to me once tonight, wife.” You ignored him again.

It was true. You spoke to him one time, and it was when he told you that Wanda and Pietro couldn't sit at the grand table. According to him, there weren't enough seats at the table that was meant for lords and ladies, and he had brought his own fair share. He didn’t see the twins as anything other than your friends, and so he tried to have them moved over to the corner of the room. You didn’t tolerate that at all. “They’re staying with me,” was all you said, and by the way he tensed up, you were sure that it was going to be a fight. Maybe it was the rage in your eyes that made him back down and nod twice, jaw clenching along with his fists. But indeed, they were beside you, just as silent and angry as you were.

Natasha hadn’t shown up yet. It was heavily frowned upon for her to miss the celebration, but you weren’t going to force her to come. You knew that if the roles were reversed that you would rather die than see her dressed as a bride and not be your bride. You knew that the situation was eating at her just as much as it was at you. You hated it.

Part of you was glad that she wasn’t there. You were glad that you wouldn’t be tortured by seeing her so far away but so close, so unattainable that it was laughable that your heart even wanted her. But since she had gotten out of that carriage and you had expected a man, your heart pumped for her. And it always would.

“Are you enjoying yourself, wife?” Even though you hadn’t heard his voice much, you knew his slimy, self assured tone from anywhere. It sent shivers down your back and a frown to your face as your thoughts were catapulted from the woman you loved straight to the man who you would rather die than be associated with.

The dress was heavy on your shoulders even though you were sitting down, and your distraught feelings were heavy on your mind. “No.”

“We’re wed, and now we are powerful.” He said, his goblet of wine reaching out towards the guests, even though only a few were watching your interaction. “Look at us. Two people in deep lov-”

“I really couldn’t care less, Lord Rumlow.” You said, blinking twice once you realized that you had spoken your thoughts aloud. You swallowed some water from your own silver goblet with the time that his shock granted you. “You and I both know that this wasn’t for love, and if you ever suggest that was the reason we were married, I will tell everyone the way you begged for my hand over letters and make sure that you are no longer capable of having an heir.”

There was another moment of silence from him, and then a scoff. His face was friendly, maybe approachable even, but when you took a shallow look into his eyes, you could see the fury brewing beneath his expression, the anger at being blatantly disrespected- by a woman.

“Look,” he started, his voice more sinister than you had heard it yet, “we have two major pieces of land together, and a large population of people under our control. Farmlands and water, it’s ours now. On my own, I was strong. But now that I’ve wed you, I’m fucking untouchable.” He leaned back in his seat and you released a long breath through your nose. His dark eyes were still boring into yours, even as you dared to tilt your head sideways, a show of derision. There was a subtle flash of red. “And I will be damned to hell if I let you disrespect me after I’ve climbed my way from the bottom. Remember that.”

You had already had enough. Enough of him, enough of the situation, enough of being told what to do. The first man you married that had turned you from a girl rolling in dirt with pigs into a wealthy lady without even a whisper of your consent was long gone. You would be damned if you let another turn you into a broodmare and an idle chess piece, regardless of the consequences. “And my first husband is dead,” you said, head tilting even more. “Remember that.”

You couldn’t hide your smirk without the silver goblet.

******

an: well hi guys haha it’s been a while since this has been updated! i’m so sorry that its been about two months... i hope that someone still loves this story at least! its coming to an end very soon! i hope it all ties together like i want it to, and that it feels resolute to you guys. i’m gonna tag some of y’all!!

taglist!

@yelenabelovasgf @msmarvelsmain @procrastinatingsapphictrash @fayhar @8plasma @slut-for-nat @dontmindmejustreading @swords-are-cool @200605chaeng @thescottishavenger @antidaytime @jenny-song @madamevirgo @natasha-danvers @blackxwidowsxwife @shycucumbersandwich @dailyavengering

@xxxtwilightaxelxxx @ima-gi--na-tion–na-tion @chickenhavewisdom

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff angst #natasha romanoff fluff #nat x fem reader #natasha x female reader #natasha x fem!reader #marvel au #lesbian!natasha #lgbt marvel #natasha romanoff fanfic #marvel fanfiction #knight au #knight!natasha #royalty au

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mummacalavera · 3 years

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Real Life Mom!Salem (3/5)

based on my fantasies about Salem raising Watts, Tyrian, and Cinder in our world, completely unfounded, self-indulgence for the win. Part One. Part Two.

Among many basic habits, brushing her teeth correctly was something Salem had to stop and teach Cinder upon realizing the girl would mostly chew on the brush and eat the toothpaste. The level of negligence she had suffered was unforgivable. Simple things like tying her shoes, brushing her teeth, washing correctly, etc were ever properly taught at any moment, by none of the two previous guardians. Lots of Cinder's random pains and nausea disappeared after a proper hygiene routine was established. Also, the little girl was a fast learner, if correctly nurtured from the start she would've been way ahead of her peers, but because luck is a bitch, the child had to pick up the pieces and do her best to at least try to have a normal life.

Night terrors were just another aggravating consequence. And these were the only things that didn't seem to get better with time and therapy. Having Cinder sleeping into her bed at night became too common and something Salem allowed to build into a habit due to the number of problems she already had to deal with during the day.

When playing tag with Tyrian, Cinder accidentally tripped on a shelf causing one of the portraits to fall and shatter. At the sound of the glass breaking, her instinctive reaction was to throw herself into a corner and shrink into a ball. Tyrian thought she was hurt so he called his mom which only caused the panic attack to get worst. Salem couldn't even touch the trembling girl, trying to talk her down slowly while Tyrian was too worried to even step closer. Salem couldn't say for how long she sat on the floor, whispering comforting words and waiting for Cinder to recover. Her cellphone was filled with work calls, Watts kept asking for dinner, but she had something more important that needed her full commitment right there. When Cinder allowed her to get closer and climbed into her arms, the woman could explain in simple sentences that she would never hurt her because of broken furniture. Even if Cinder literally grabbed one of her vases and smashed in front of her because she was angry, Salem would not beat her because of that. She would be disciplined of course, but never physically. No object was that important, and everyone who had hurt her before was unexcusable and their behavior was unacceptable.

Cinder was homeschooled for about three years until she was ready to go to school. She was dedicated, with the right push she could learn anything. But Watts would prove to be a problem every time he talked about how embarrassingly dumb she was compared to other kids -- mainly, compared to himself. His constant negativity and cruel offenses began creeping into his sister's mind despite every proof of how fast she was developing.

Their second big accident at home happened when the three kids were in Watts' bedroom. He had invited Tyrian to play video-game and Tyrian invited Cinder. Watts was not letting his least favorite person in the world touch his controllers or his things, so he made her sit quietly and watch. Cinder wasn't a fan of being pushed around, even more now that she learned she had no obligation to be stepped on by anyone. Eventually, she got bored and started looking around, discreetly touching her brother's gadgets until she pushed a button that set off an alarm and Watts warned her about touching his stuff again. "I swear to god I will taser you", he threatened mindlessly before grabbing his taser he had ordered online, and showed her exactly what he meant. He wasn't really going to hurt her or even get the taser closer to her, but he wanted to impose his word. When the zapping sound broke and the blue electric light sparkled, Cinder lost it. She jumped on Watts and bit his arm with all her might until he dropped the taser, punching and kicking him in a frenzy of fury. Tyrian was shocked and laughing his nervousness out, loud enough for Salem to hear it. Salem arrived to find her oldest son trying to hold her daughter down while she screamed and attacked him so viciously, it seemed like one of Tyrian's breakdowns, not Cinder's. She got Cinder out of Watts and locked the door between them before Watts could try to get back at his sister. Now, away from the room, the youngest started crying, shaken by the angriest sobs Salem had ever seen in a kid. Apparently, her oblivious son had decided to pick the worst way to provoke his sister. The taser triggered years of trauma that were now overflowing in a storm of agonizing emotions too huge for such a small child.

#rwby #rwby headcanon #rwby au #rwby fanfic #salem rwby #cinder fall #tyrian callows #arthur watts #baby cinder #young cinder #mom!salem #rwby headcanons

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kiame-sama · 4 years

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Hello, Lovies~! Are you tired of Silva content yet? No? Alright~!

Warnings; silva/reader fight, reader unknowingly causes harm to self, reader harms Silva, Aggressive Reader, Depressed Reader, oral, lemon, the corner never lies.

~~~~~~~~

You lay curled up in your bed, buried under your blankets with your back towards the rest of the room. How could he? How could he send your child away without even telling you?

He swore he wouldn't after Milluki had been sent off, and here he has done it again! You should have known he was lying. All he ever does is lie to you.

You refused to get up and greet him when you heard the door open, signaling his arrival. It was easy to tell without a doubt that he knew you were upset with him. He treaded carefully, approaching you hesitantly. Instead of pulling you up or wrapping you in his arms, he sat next to you on the bed and minded his distance.

"(Y/n)." "Go the hell away." "I know you're displeased with me-" "Fuck off." "- but, I do apologize." "You're not forgiven."

A slight shift of the bed told you he was close, anger bubbling up in your chest. You could feel his gaze burning into you as you continue to ignore him, furious and upset with his actions. He was well aware that you were beyond furious, especially given it was Killua that he had sent out.

As the only son he allowed you to speak with semi-frequently, you had a rather close bond with Killua. At the moment, all you could feel was anger at him for his behavior and his actions. You quickly smacked his hand off of you the moment you felt him touch your shoulder, moving further away from him.

"I told you to fuck off." "(Y/n)-" "No! You're a fucking liar and all you have ever done is lie to me. All of that 'I love you' and 'I care about you' were just lies too, weren't they!?"

At this, you felt his body stiffen behind you and a low growl rumbled from his throat. You didn't care if you were pissing him off, as far as you were concerned, he deserved it. You hoped your words cut deep, slicing away at his heart, if he even had one.

"I do not lie about my bond to you. Do not suggest that I do again, or I'll-" "Or you'll what? Force me? Been there, done that. You'll hurt me? You do anyway even though you've told me you would never do it again countless times. All you do is lie! All you see me as is a fuck-toy-breeder whose sole purpose is to lay here like a doll and give you heirs!"

You stood sharply, done playing this game and done laying in a bed with him. No more. You refused to lay next to him anymore and you refused to listen to his lies.

"(Y/n)-" "Leave me the fuck alone, Silva! Go find yourself another fuck-toy because I'm done being yours. May as well kill me because I won't do this anymore!"

With that you stormed out of the shared bedroom and immediately to your corner, knowing your chain would just hold you back from the door. Tears stung and burned your eyes as you furiously tried to blink them away, scratching at your skin in frustration. You didn't even notice the cuts you were making on your soft flesh as you continued to itch and claw at your uncomfortable flesh confinement.

You heard his heavy steps as he slowly pursued you to where you sat, clawing at anything in reach. He moved to grab your hands to stop your intense self-destructive scratching but you refused to let him touch you. Your nails bit and dug into his arms until he bled from the clawing you gave him, finally backing off to let you try and calm yourself.

"Don't touch me again! Never touch me again!"

Silva silently backed off, letting you curl into your corner and sob in anger and pain. At least you had stopped scratching at yourself.

Silva knew you would be upset with him, but he had never even thought you would become this distraught and angry with him. He figured it would be best to give you time to let your anger cool off before attempting to apologize to you again.

You didn't even look back at him as you heard him leave.

~~~~~~~~

Silva sighed, walking to his usual place in the estate when he wasn't with you, sitting on his couch and looking at his cut up arms.

"I heard it didn't go well trying to talk to her, did it? Well, everyone probably heard that." "No. It didn't go well." "Impressive she cut up your arms that much, seems it's bad this time." "I'm aware."

Zeno walked over, hands clasped behind his back as he sat next to his son, relaxing into the cushions.

"How do you plan on apologizing?" "I don't know. She was the angriest I have ever seen her." "She was close with Killua. If anything, she's probably upset he was sent alone." "There's no changing that now." "No. There certainly isn't. But her fears can be lain to rest, should you tell her what she wants to hear." "I don't think lying to her is the best strategy at this moment. Seems that's part of why she is so upset."

Zeno let out a soft contemplative hum closing his eyes. A quiet silence fell over them before the door opened, revealing Maha who casually strolled in.

"Listen closely, children. There is one way to please a woman and it isn't lying."

~~~~~~~~

It was cold, as it always seemed to be in that horrible fucking cell.

You lay with a blanket wrapped around your body but it didn't do much to stave off the cold that you felt. Your entire figure shook and shivered from the cold as you lay in your corner. The sad part being is that your corner was actually warmer than the rest of your cell, but you were still shaking.

You did your best to try and slip off into sleep, keeping your cold feet and hands securely under the blanket. It wasn't the easiest thing to do, but you did manage to get to a bit of a light sleep started before something pulled you out of it. Warm arms wrap around you, holding your back up against a warm chest. Your cold feet feeling nice and toasty against hot flesh, making you slowly press them into the warm skin.

Another moment passed before you remembered that you were angry and another longer moment went by before you realized it was Silva holding you. The warmth that radiated from him made you want to forgive him and just cuddle into his large arms, to let yourself drift off in warm bliss. But, he was the whole reason you were in your corner and you truly didn't feel like forgiving him in any capacity just yet.

"Get the hell off me." "No." "Get the fuck off of me." "No." "Silva-" "You're cold, distressed, tired, and uncomfortable. Just rest." "All of those things are your fault." "Yes, they are."

Surprise ran through you at this, as Silva was not the kind to really admit he was in the wrong in any occasion. Even when things were directly caused by him, much of the time he would make you feel like you were overreacting to something simple. What was he playing at?

"You sent Killua away." "Yes, I did. I will send Alluka and Kalluto off as well when they reach six years old." "Don't..." "It is tradition. Like it or not, it is for their own good." "They'll get hurt." "Most likely, but they will learn from their mistakes and become stronger as a result."

Your sad answering whimper made his grip tighten around you, holding you closer to his chest. His warm breath against your cold neck made you shiver slightly, wanting to lean into the comforting heat. You silently realized that you had stopped shivering, your body relaxing and drinking in that warmth.

"What if something happens to him..?" "Nothing will happen to Killua." "How do you know?" "Because, I know my son well enough to know he will be fine. He is going to be an effective and deadly assassin." "What if he doesn't want to be?" "..."

His silence did little to calm you and you knew he would never let Killua be anything other than an assassin. He wouldn't let any of your children deviate from the family business. It made you sad to think that your children would never have that ability to choose, but Silva's confidence in Killua helped to soothe you slightly. Silva knew the skills an assassin needed to survive and he likely taught those skills to Killua prior to sending the boy solo.

"But what if it does..? What if he gets hurt and dies? We'll never know..!" "(Y/n), do you truly think someone isn't keeping an eye on him?" "... Yes." "He's fine. There are several of the staff ensuring he does not get harmed too severely." "... You'll tell me if he does get hurt?" "I'll tell you about every bruise if you want."

You whimpered softly, nodding as you let yourself relax in his arms one of your hands gently rest over his. The soft feeling of his lips ghosting over your neck made you shiver, slightly arching your back.

"Silva..." "Shh... Let me apologize to you."

His hand gently trailed down your front, sliding between your legs and pulling off your pants. He slowly moved to kiss your cheek pulling away from you before removing the rest of your clothes. A small frown pulled at his lips when you shivered, standing up and tucking the blanket around you.

"Stay."

You glanced back over your shoulder at his figure as he moved in the darkness, grabbing something. He laid out what seemed like a blanket and walked back over to you, picking you up before gently laying you down. You happily lay back onto it, realizing it was your warm heated blanket. You let out a pleased sigh, relaxing back into the warmth of the blanket as he lay out the one from your bed over you.

When he returned to join you, you realized that he had taken his clothes off. He was warm and his heated skin against yours just had your tired state wanting to melt into his touch. His hands slowly glide over your skin and gently work the soreness out of your muscles, leaving you sighing happily.

He slowly lifted one of your legs, moving down to settle it on his shoulder and lightly kiss the skin of your thigh. You looked down your front at him, watching him suck several marks onto your thighs before moving on to his favorite meal.

The harsh cry of pleasure that left your lips made you blush, not expecting to be so sensitive to his touch. But his hot tongue against your cold slit made it feel all the more intense. Instead of just shoving his tongue inside of you as he usually did, he slowly dragged long, lazy strokes through your soft folds. He periodically pause to flick his tongue harshly over your clit before returning to that slow pace.

You whimpered and let out breathy whines, gripping his long hair as he continued feasting on your sweet juices. Not only was his focused attention making your body heat up, but the sounds he made while doing so got you practically shaking from pleasure.

The sound of his lips smacking, his deep growls, and the obscene squishing coming from between your legs were overwhelming you. His low moans sending light vibrations into your body made you slightly buck your hips, sinking your hands deeper into his mane of white hair.

He carried on his slow pace and you let out a quiet sob, almost desperate for more pleasure than what he was teasing you with.

"Sil- Silv-ah..!" "Yes?" "Please..!" "Please? You're going to have to tell me what you need. After all, I'm busy eating my dessert." "Fu-fuck! Faster..! Please, I need you to go faster." "Hm, but then I can't savor you as much." "Damn it, Silva!" "Shh... Be patient for me." "No. I- Ah~!"

The moment you attempted to snap back at him was the very moment he slid his tongue into you and started thrusting it in and out of you at a fast pace. Your voice went up in pitch as you cried out, eyes rolling back from the sudden pleasurable assault on your senses. You mewled and whined in pleasure, your legs tensing over his shoulders as his bright blue eyes hungrily watched you fall to pieces underneath him.

You moaned out with enough force that your throat stung as that stubborn coil of pleasure finally snapped. Your body was flooded with bliss as you shook from the intensity of the pleasure, tugging firmly at Silva's soft hair. It took longer for you to come down from your high as Silva returned to that slow licking pace, making you ride out your pleasure.

When you finally stopped shaking and mewling, he slowly moved up your body, caging you beneath him with his hips settled between your legs. You whined ever so softly as he gently and methodically kissed your neck, his firm chest pushing against yours and warming you to the core. He was far more gentle as he slid into you than he ever had been before, moving slowly and pressing feather-light kisses over your soft body.

When he was finally fully settled inside of you, he slowly began to move his hips, your entire body moving with his. For some reason, his slow firm thrusts drove you wild far more than they ever had before.

"You have no idea how much you mean to me. Truly. You are not a fuck-toy in my eyes... It pains me to be away from you... To not feel whole. But like this, the both of us connected so intimately... That pain fades away into nothing." "Silva..." "My beautiful wife... My love... I can never let you go... I can't go back to living incomplete anymore."

He softly rumbled out these words into your ear, his slow thrusts never losing pace. You kept your fingers threaded through his hair, your legs up around his hips as he slowly drove himself into you. He ensured to slide up against every pleasurable spot in your body, practically setting you both ablaze with need.

As your pleasure built up, he slightly increased his pace just a bit more until it drove you both over the edge. He breathed softly in your ear as warmth settled in your stomach. All the anger and frustration inside of you seemed so trivial and distant now, as Silva lay on his back, wrapping you up in his arms and holding you securely against his chest. You slowly slipped off into a deep and comfortable sleep, soothed by the large hand caressing your back.

#Silva Zoldyck #hxh silva #silva x reader #daddy silva #Silva #yandere silva x reader #yandere x reader #Yandere Silva #28 Years story

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paperbodiesamongthestars · 4 years

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Billy has been to a lot of therapy in the five years since he died, and he feels like he’s dealt with a lot of his anger about his past. He feels less resentment toward his mother and Susan, who both could have made different choices but didn’t, and if he didn’t actually forgive Neil before the fucker drank himself to death, he hardly ever thinks about him anymore, and that’s a kind of freedom. He still goes to therapy, every other week, because between his shitty homophobic dad, and all the stuff he did while he was possessed by some nightmare creature, and actually dying at the fucking mall of all places, there’s a lot to unpack. He just isn’t as angry about all of it as he used to be.

No, the anger that Billy still feels, that keeps him up at night sometimes, that drives him to the gym a few times a week to beat the shit out of a punching bag, isn’t about his past anymore—it’s about Steve’s past. Steve has been to his fair share of therapy in the past few years too, what with the monsters and the Russians and all that time alone in his awful, empty house, but Billy still sees the scars from his past sometimes. In the way that Steve’s fingers sometimes twitch like he’s going to reach out for Billy, and then he stops himself, like any amount of affection from Steve Harrington could ever be considered too much. In the thin, anxious line between Steve’s eyes when he hands Billy a carefully-wrapped package, which invariably contains something thoughtful and personal and lovely, as if Billy could ever get tired of Steve’s soft, pleased smile when Billy gets a little choked up about one of his stupidly perfect gifts. In the way that Steve sometimes looks at all of it—their apartment near the beach, the cats, even Billy himself—like he’s memorizing them, in case he doesn’t get to keep this, doesn’t really deserve any of it.

What makes Billy the angriest, though, is the silence. The slow, gradual quiet that is often the only sign that something has happened—the nightmares are back again, maybe, or Steve’s dad has invented some new bullshit to be a complete dick about. Billy reserves a cold, implacable fury for whatever combination of people and events taught Steve Harrington that he wasn’t allowed to ask for help.

Billy knows now that he used to deal with his own hardest feelings by pointing them outward, lashing out at the world. He cut himself on those sharp edges plenty of times (the sickening feeling of that plate hitting Steve’s head will live in his memory forever, even if Steve forgave him years ago, waved off his apology to lean forward, big eyes wide with sincerity, and apologize for not seeing what Neil was doing sooner. As if it was his job to see it, as if he wasn’t also just a kid with shitty parents, as if he wasn’t spending his time fighting different monsters. The side of Steve’s face still aches sometimes in cold weather, which Steve blames on the Russians, but Billy knows he’ll spend the rest of his life trying to replace the feel of that plate in his hand with gentle fingertips on soft skin), but Billy was never aiming at his own heart. Steve, on the other hand, deals with his hardest feelings by trying to keep them from touching anyone he cares about. He tries to keep all the sharp edges on the inside, which is why Billy sometimes wakes up to find Steve’s side of the bed empty, and he knows that he’ll find him on the bathroom floor, knees pulled up, head in his hands, sobbing in almost complete silence. Billy will sit down next to him and pull his head into his shoulder and hold him until he’s done crying, and tell him to wake him up next time, and Steve will nod and definitely will not wake him up the next time. Steve is always there for everyone else—has held Billy through...all of it, has sat on the couch, Robin’s head on his shoulder while she cried about a bad breakup, has fielded endless calls from various members of the Party when things got too hard or too painful or too real—but he just never seems to expect that anyone would want to be there for him.

And then one summer night, a miracle. Or the beginnings of one, anyway. Billy gets home from the gym, showers, finds Steve on their balcony in a lounge chair, nursing a beer, staring at the sunset. Billy grabs his own beer, takes the other chair.

“Good day?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Steve says, not looking over, “it was...” and then he trails off. He takes a breath and he looks over at Billy and Billy notices that his eyes are shiny with unshed tears. He holds his breath. “No,” Steve finally says. “It wasn’t a good day. My dad called, and I don’t really want to talk about it, but do you think we could just...” Billy is out of his chair by now, beer forgotten, kneeling next to Steve’s chair and lacing their fingers together. Steve doesn’t finish the sentence. Billy reaches up with his other hand, cups Steve’s face, wipes away tears with his thumb.

“We can do anything you want, baby,” he breathes. Steve smiles, closes his eyes, touches his forehead to Billy’s, and Billy feels his chest constrict. He’s breathing past a lump in his throat because they have time, and they’re healing together, and maybe they can never really escape the past, but maybe this is what it feels like to gradually, painstakingly leave it behind them, where it belongs.

#harringrove #my writing #super soft #fluff

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saharamae21 · 4 years

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Hero (JJ Maybank Imagine) - Disney Day Three

Hey guys! Day Three of my 30 Day Disney Challenge is here! This challenge is going to be 30 days of imagines inspired by Disney songs. I’m really excited to be doing this and I promise I will try to stay more on top of it than I did with my last challenge.

These are not song fics, but imagines inspired by songs.

Day Three (October 30th) - Hero (Unplugged) (Starstruck) - JJ Imagine

Word Count : 1499 Words

Sorry I thought I had this queued to post and apparently I did not.

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Even though JJ and you didn’t always get along, you knew that he was the only one you could talk to. The other Pogues always had amazing home lives and you didn’t want them to look at you any differently. Deep down, you knew that they wouldn’t, but you always worried anyways. JJ was the one exception. He was tortured at home and he was loyal to a tee. He would never tell anyone your secret.

The day that you finally told him what was going on was intense. You had gone through the ringer at home and hid at the beach to calm down. The sand burned against your skin, but you had to come up with a plan to explain to your friends how you got these bruises. Usually you only had to lie about one or two, but today your skin was painted in this ugly shade black and blue. Tears were slipping rapidly down your face as you hugged your knees to your chest. How would you explain this to your friends?

When JJ got to the beach he was already in a bad mood. He thought taking the day off from his friends would help clear his head, but then he saw you out of the corner of his eyes. He scoffed at first, knowing that the happy-go-lucky girl would run up to him as soon as you noticed he was there. He had two options, say hi before you had the chance to annoy him or ignore you completely. He sighed, knowing the right thing to do. Even though you could annoy him, he still had a soft spot for you.

As he walked up, he heard your sniffling. It shocked him to see you like this because the only version he had ever seen of you was bubbly and filled with bliss. He never thought you could be like this. Then the bruises caught his eye. His breath hitched as he put two and two together. The way you fidgeted when John B asked how you got the bruises. The dismissiveness and resent in your voice when they would ask if you were okay. It all made sense now. He was angry at himself for not noticing sooner.

“Y/n?” he asked softly. Your heart stopped as he said your name. You had been caught red handed. You turned your head slowly to look at him. Tears cascaded down your face as he saw the real you for the first time. He didn’t know whether to reach forward and hug you or to call Kiara. She was always better with the emotional stuff than him. He sensed that you needed him right now though. He took a seat next to you and said nothing.

“I’m fine JJ,” you muttered softly. You didn’t look at him when you said that. You couldn’t bring yourself too. The embarrassment was too intense to look him in the eyes.

“You don’t look fine…” he awkwardly said back. You bursted out into tears as he said that. He cursed under his breath, wishing that he knew how to handle the situation. He remembered what Kie always did when he was distressed and pulled you into a hug. It was awkward at first. JJ and you had never hugged before in your two years of friendship, but as soon as your arms slipped around him and your face burrowed into his shoulder, all the awkwardness dispersed. His hands found the way to your back and held you tightly. With you in his arms, it was like he could read your mind all of the sudden. He could tell you anything that you wanted or needed to hear. “You’re okay now. I won’t let anyone else hurt you.”

After you settled down a little bit, he released you from his hold. He let you explain what it was like at home. He listened as you told him your fears about the others knowing. Every word you said, made sense to him. He went through the exact same thing, only he was more cynical than you could ever be.

“I had no idea. You always seemed so cheerful,” he muttered. It made you happy that he thought you were cheerful.

“Whenever I’m sad, I always promise to myself that I’ll be happier and work harder,” you explained. You never wanted anyone to know that your life was hard. You didn’t want the people you cared about most to worry about you when they all had so much on their plates already. “Don’t tell the others, okay?”

You watched him nod sadly. He knew that there was no point of trying to convince you. He had been there before and even though the Pogues wouldn’t treat you any differently, it didn’t erase the fear and guilt. Plus he kind of liked the idea of a secret that only he knew about.

That night when you guys went back to the Chateau, you had forgotten to make up a story to tell you friends. Kiara ran up to you immediately and asked if you were okay. JJ shoved her back a little bit, not allowing her to get a closer look.

“I was teaching her how to surf and she took a huge fall,” he muttered. “She’s still shaken up so give her some space.”

You stared at him as he lied for you. The both of you knew that if she looked closer the story wouldn’t add up quite as well. You smiled at him as he tossed you one of his hoodies to hide some of the marks. You slipped it on and grinned at the soft smell of him that lingered on the fabric. The more he did for you, the closer you two got. You could feel yourself falling for him. It was as unstoppable as gravity.

A few weeks passed and JJ spent more and more time with you. Usually he would get annoyed with you after a while, but now he made it his own mission to make sure you didn’t get hurt. Every time you would cry, he would tell you about how the two of you could get out of the OBX. He would fill your head with ideas of Mexico, but realistically, he would take you anywhere you wanted to go as soon as he had the money to do so. He wanted to be your hero.

One night, he was caught up at work. The chateau was a little too crowded and you were feeling a little overwhelmed. Over your better judgement, you went back home for the night. The place was a mess and your dad sat on the couch with a beer in hand. You looked at your feet as you explained where you had been. He told you that he didn’t care and told you to get him another beer. Your voice was shaky, but something about JJ made you realize that you didn’t have to stand for this. Even though the two of you were ordinary people with just a heart and soul, you could stop this. You told him no for the first time in your life.

The rest of it happened so quickly. His fist hitting your cheek. His hand wrapping around your throat. Your gasps for air as he threw you to the ground. You listened to him yell at you to get out. He didn’t have to tell you twice. You ran quickly out the door, but right into JJ’s body. He had heard from J.B. that you went home and had come to check on you. Your arms slipped around him and you sobbed into his chest, still trying to catch your breath. His heart stopped as you clung to him. If only he left work on time, maybe you wouldn’t have gone home. He placed a kiss on your forehead and muttered apologies over and over, even though none of this was his fault.

He snuck you back into his house. It was similar to yours, messy and unkempt. You didn’t mind though. He shut the bedroom door behind him and turned on the light, seeing the bruising for the first time. Your neck was purple where your dad had grabbed you. The more he looked at it, the angrier he got. He was angry at you for going home. He was angry at your dad for doing this to you. However, he was the angriest at himself for not being there. He wiped away your tears carefully and stared at your broken face.

“I’m sorry,” you said softly. It broke his heart that you were in so much pain and you still felt like you had to apologize to him. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours, telling you that you never had to be sorry when it came to him. He would always be there for you, no matter what. He would be everything you ever needed.

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Tag List : @justcallmesams @jellyfishbeansontoast @prejudic3 @queenieloveswriting @jjtheangel @infinitydols @simpingforrudypankowonly @waywardbarbie @outerbankslut @outerbongs @ilovejjmaybank @beth-winchester21 @jiaraendgame @maybanksbaby @rudyypankow @tomhardybby @crxstalreeds @mayraki @potterheadhollander @teenwaywardasgardian

Let me know if you want to be added or removed from tag list.

#JJ Imagine #jj maybank #jj maybank imagine #jj mayback x reader #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank fanfic #jj outer banks #jj obx #jj obx imagine #jj obx fic #jj outerbanks #outer banks jj #Outer Banks #outer banks imagine #obx #obx netflix #sguymon21 #30 days of disney

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bnhayyy · 3 years

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Growing Pains

Wordcount: 7.2k

Series Tag: Click

Ao3 Link: Click

Notes: Thank you to @celadongirl for the beta! This fic is the third in a series wherein Reiner is Marleyan on Karina’s side, but enough context is provided within that it could probably be read on its own with only a wee bit of confusion. If you enjoy it, please consider following me on twitter at Museflight or buying me a ko-fi!

Summary: Gabi Braun doesn't have a drop of Eldian blood in her. But her cousin does, and for that, the entire family is condemned.

Or; Gabi is made to live in Liberio after Reiner's heritage is discovered. She tries to avoid the Eldians, only to find that she is not immune to loneliness and Falco Grice is nothing if not persistent.

He was visiting; the devil that was her cousin. Gabi was careful not to look at him. She wasn't supposed to talk to the devils. Her parents had said that this one was an exception, but she didn't want to take that risk.

Too bad the devil didn't seem to get the hint. Of course not. He was a devil.

He cleared his throat. His voice was still dangerously like the one she remembered, the one that had belonged to a good person, back when everything was alright. "Gabi-"

Gabi snapped her head up to give him her angriest glare - so angry she could feel it burning. "Don't talk to me, devil!" she yelled.

The devil faltered, and Gabi quickly turned and ran away. By shouting at him, she had messed up and looked at him. And what she saw was absolutely horrible, worse than if she looked up and saw the tallest of titans sitting at her table.

He still looked like Reiner. But he couldn't be, not anymore. The Reiner she remembered couldn't turn into a monster. The Reiner she remembered wouldn't have let his family get thrown in with the eldians.

But they had been- because of him- because he was-

Gabi raced into her room and collapsed on her bed in a sobbing heap.

Her parents had told her that the thing that looked like Reiner was going to be sent to the devil island soon. Good. She didn't want him around to make things worse. She didn't want him to stick around and confuse her by acting like her Reiner.

She wasn't supposed to talk to devils.

It felt like Gabi had been stuck inside ever since they had been moved in with the Eldians. She knew that that wasn't technically true, but it might as well be. Her parents didn't take her out often, and when they did, she had to stay right by their side. She wasn't allowed to play outside without them there to watch her. When they were there to watch, they didn't let her go beyond the tiny yard surrounding their tiny house.

And of course, there was no one for her to play with.

She understood why. The only people around them were Eldian devils. They weren't safe for her to be around. It wasn't safe for her to talk to them, for more reasons than just their evilness.

Gabi knew that they weren't supposed to let the Eldians know that they weren't like them. She didn't really understand why, but she knew that it was their most important rule. She also knew that her parents were worried that she might break the rule if one of them spoke to her. It wasn't true; Gabi was smarter than that. While she didn't want to talk to the eldians, she didn't like that her parents didn't trust her. So she pushed and prodded and begged for more freedom so that she could have the chance to prove it to them.

And because she wanted to play outside.

It took a long time and a lot of swearing up and down that they could trust her, and eventually they started letting her go outside alone again. By the time she was six and a half, she was allowed to leave the yard, just as long as she stayed close enough to see the house.

That was how she met him.

Gabi was skipping. She wasn't skipping for any good reason. She just felt like it. It was a nice day, the sun was shining down, she could hear birds in the distance, beyond the bleary old buildings, and it was fun to skip. So she did.

She went further than she should have.

The sight of two devil boys down the street made her glance back at her house, to remind herself that she could be back and safe in a moment if she needed to be. Except the house wasn't there. She couldn't see it. Her eyes widened, a burst of fear exploded in her chest, and she stumbled.

Gabi let out an involuntary yelp as she fell. She caught herself, but it caused a burst of pain in her hands as they tore against the rough pavement, accompanied by an ache in one of her knees. A whimper escaped her throat, and she bit down on her lower lip to stop any more sound from escaping as she fought back tears.

"Hey!" someone called.

Gabi tensed up. Despite the pain, she forced herself to sit up on her knees so that she could see who was talking to her.

It was one of the boys - the smaller one. He was running toward her with what looked like worry on his face. She knew that it couldn't be. A devil wouldn't be worried about some girl he'd never met. He must have been too stupid to realize that though, because he ran right up to her and asked, "are you okay?"

She stared at him. The boy shuffled, uncomfortable, then held out a hand.

Gabi scooted back, eyes wide. The devil boy wanted to touch her.

"It's okay!" the boy said, even though it very much wasn't. "My name's Falco. Maybe we can be-"

No. No more of that.

"Don't talk to me!" Gabi shouted, jumping to her feet and running back the way she came.

It didn't take her long to find the house.

When her parents asked how she'd skinned her hands and knee, she told them that she'd tripped and fell. She didn't tell them that she'd gone too far or about the boy she'd met.

Her mother had to go to the market.

Gabi knew that it might be dangerous, since it would be swarming with Eldians, but the change in scenery called to her in a way that she couldn’t ignore. Besides, just because it was dangerous didn't mean she was scared. She begged her mother to be allowed to go with her, and her mother reluctantly agreed.

In the aftermath, she couldn't tell if going had been a mistake or not. It was definitely nice to get out of the house. She had to stick by her mother's side the entire time, but it was still more than she had gotten lately.

But she also saw that boy again. ( Falco.)

He looked like he'd been running an errand with his brother when he spotted her. He waved cheerfully, and Gabi glared back, which had made him hesitate and take a step back.

Falco didn't actually say anything or approach her or her mother. But when they got back home, Gabi found herself wondering how much this boy would bother her.

She had a feeling that this wouldn't be the end of it.

Gabi was almost seven when her parents finally decided that she could explore a little further by herself.

It was fun.

(It would be more fun if she wasn't alone.)

Sometimes it was fun. It was fun if she found something interesting to explore. Despite being in the devil's land, finding something interesting was actually pretty hard sometimes, seeing as she still wasn't supposed to wander too far from home. She got used to her expanded territory in just a few days. Still, she managed to come up with something to do most of the time. Even when it wasn't fun , it killed time. And when she couldn't come up with anything at all...

It was probably the best she could expect from this place. She didn't belong there and it didn't want her. That didn't matter though, because her parents said that they weren't going to be there forever.

She just hoped that they got out soon. Before things could start to get too boring.

Gabi was standing on a big, old, weathered rock next to a creaky, old, abandoned house that she’d already explored four times before when she heard footsteps. She paused, and looked down to see that it was that boy (Falco) again.

"Hi," he said. He sounded a little more shy than before, a little more slow. Maybe he would stop trying to talk to her if she pushed him away again.

(Then no one would talk to her at all.)

Gabi wasn't supposed to talk to the Eldians anyway, and this boy was an Eldian. Even if he was all small and non-threatening looking.

(But could he really do anything if she just said 'hi'?)

Always doing what she was supposed to was boring though, and she was already getting so bored.

"Hi," she said, making sure to frown down at the boy.

Her frown didn't matter. He perked up immediately, like a dog that had been thrown a bone. "Hi!" he chirped. "I was wondering, do you want to-"

"No."

She'd already said 'hi' when she wasn't supposed to. That was enough. Gabi frowned at the boy again, harder this time, jumped off her stone, and started walking home.

(She definitely didn't wonder what he was going to ask her.)

A welcome surprise appeared during another visit to the market.

There was a Marleyan soldier wandering around.

Someone Gabi could talk to!

She was going to wait for her mother at first. But she was taking so long to haggle with the fruit vendor, and as the conversation drew on, Gabi's impatience grew. When she tugged at her mother's shirt sleeve, she was dismissed with a wave, which made a scowl sprout across her face. She didn't know why the soldier was there or how long he would be around. It wasn't fair for her to lose her opportunity to talk to him just because her mother was taking forever with the fruit guy.

Gabi cast a thoughtful glance around the area before allowing her gaze to drift back to the soldier. Her parents didn't like her going over to anyone without them around, but that was with the Eldians. This was a Marleyan soldier. That had to mean that it was okay!

Quietly but quickly, Gabi stepped away from her mother and started walking toward the soldier. She'd be back before she even realized she was gone.

"Hey," Gabi called once she was close enough for the soldier to hear her. "What's your-"

The soldier drew his rifle and pointed it at her. "Get back, devil!" he barked.

Gabi stepped back, heart beating far faster than it should be. It didn't make sense. He was a soldier of Marley. She should be safe around him. Sure, she couldn't tell him that she wasn't Eldian, but she wasn't . He should have been able to tell that she was different because of that. So why was he pointing his gun at her and looking at her like she was some sort of thing?

She swallowed down the lump in her throat and tried to speak out over the sudden clamor erupting around her. "I'm not-"

"Do not speak unless ordered!"

Gabi opened and closed her mouth. How was she supposed to tell the soldier that she wasn't doing anything bad if she couldn't speak?

"Gabi!" her mother shouted. She raced forward and shoved Gabi behind her, looking up at the soldier with wide, wild eyes.

Her mother looked scared.

As her mother drowned the soldier in apologies before quickly shuffling Gabi away, groceries forgotten, she felt tears prickle in her eyes. They should have been because of how stupid and irritating and unfair that whole thing was. But deep down, she knew the truth.

The tears were there because it had been scary.

It was weeks before she was allowed to wander alone again.

She couldn't speak with the Eldians, because they were Eldian, but apparently, she wasn't supposed to speak to Marleyans either. Because it wasn't safe. Because they couldn't know that she wasn't Eldian. Even though she wasn't.

When she asked why, they started saying something, but cut themselves off and said they'd explain when she was older.

When she asked when they would be let back into Marley, they gave some excuse about his mission, but didn't give her an actual answer.

When she asked if she was supposed to spend the rest of her life without talking to anyone, they didn't say anything at all.

"I haven't seen you in a while," the boy said.

Gabi was at the abandoned house with the big rock again. She wasn't standing on it or exploring anything this time. Instead, she was sitting on the edge with her feet dangling off the side, watching them as they swung back and forth.

She felt empty. Or at least, she felt empty until the boy came up to her. Then she felt...

She felt like doing something that she wasn't supposed to.

The boy took a step back and started stammering when Gabi looked up at him. He waved a hand around, like he was trying to say that he was innocent of some mystery crime. Like anyone would care if he was. "I can leave if you wa-"

"What's your name?" Gabi asked, even though she already knew what his name was. Better to let him think she'd forgotten than let him know she'd remembered.

The boy - Falco - brightened up immediately. Like a puppy. Or a happy bird hopping around with a stick it had found. He looked more like the puppy, but something about him felt like a bird. "I'm Falco!" he said.

Gabi nodded. "My name is Gabi," she said.

Falco wasn’t bad, for an Eldian.

Part of her kept expecting him to prove her wrong after she started letting him spend time with her. But he didn’t. He just kept being better than she expected.

And a lot better than being alone.

It happened only a few houses away from Gabi's, because some people just had too much audacity.

She knew Falco would be waiting for her when she set out for the day. Despite being friendly, he didn't really have any friends aside from the other kids in that weird program he was in, and he seemed to spend more time with Gabi than any of them. And Gabi... she wasn't going to risk spending time with any other Eldians. Falco was enough for her.

They had a pattern. There were a lot of variations to it, but they had a pattern. Falco was busy with his training in the morning, so she wouldn't bother leaving the house until the afternoon most of the time. When he was able to hang out earlier, he usually told her the night before so she could plan accordingly. Sometimes he would have to leave for more training after that. Sometimes they would meet up again in the night, when he wasn't too tired and her parents let her go without asking too many questions. Sometimes, on big training days, he would be away for most of the day and they'd only get to see each other for a little while at night. Those days were boring. She would go to the abandoned house and wander around for a little while, trying to stay entertained, but always seemed to end up sitting on the big rock and waiting for him to show up. It sucked, but the stupid puppy face Falco made when he saw her kept her waiting.

The point was, Gabi knew what to expect. She liked knowing what to expect when it came to Falco. Maybe she would accept a nice surprise, but that was all.

Showing up at their meeting spot to find two larger boys cornering Falco wasn't a nice surprise. Their body language was tense and aggressive, and Falco was all but cowering against the wall.

Gabi stared, brows furrowing when one of the larger boys said something loud and Falco tried to shuffle away. It didn't make sense. Falco had said that he was in that titan-wannabe program and learning how to fight. So why was he just standing there and letting them push him around?

One of the boys moved to punch him, and as a wave of white-hot anger washed over her, Gabi decided that the reasons didn't matter. She wouldn't call Falco her friend, but she wasn't going to stand around and let people treat him like that.

(He was hers.)

Gabi rushed forward and jumped on the closest boy's back, wrapping one arm around his neck and smacking the top of his head with the other one. "You leave him alone!" she ordered, tightening her grasp when the boy began to flail and shout.

"Gabi!" Falco cried.

"Hey!" the second boy cried in the same instant. He moved to rush toward Gabi, which finally spurred Falco into action. He rushed forward and kicked the boy right between the legs, causing him to crumple in on himself like a dead spider.

Gabi started to laugh, only to be cut off when the boy she was still clinging to grabbed the arm wrapped around his neck and tried to flip her off him. She let out a tiny scream, tightened the arm around his neck to avoid being flung off, and fisted her free hand into the boy's hair. Once she was secure, wrenched that arm around his neck out of his grasp and plunged that hand into his hair too.

"Be careful!" Falco cried. He was stepping anxiously around them now, his eyes flicking between the boy Gabi was clinging to and the one still on the ground.

"Crazy bitch," the boy she was clinging to spat. His voice sounded garbled, like he was in pain. Good. "I was just-"

"I don't care!" Gabi shrieked. "Go away!" She briefly let go of his hair with one of her hands in order to bonk him again for good measure.

"I will!" the boy cried. "Just get off!"

Scowling, Gabi let go of the boy and let herself drop to the ground. Her victim skittered over to his fallen friend while Falco raced over to her. "Are you okay?" he asked, putting a hand on her shoulder.

Gabi looked at Falco and scowled. There was a bruise welling up underneath his eye, and when she looked down, she noticed scratches covering his knees and the palm of his exposed hand. "Why are you asking that?" she demanded. "You're the one who's all beaten up!"

She turned to shoot a glare at the pair of scumbags. Now that she was closer and not on the one boy's back, she could see that they really were significantly bigger than her and Falco. Just not big enough to stand a chance against her. They weren't actual titans, after all. They weren't soldiers, either. They didn't have guns or any real means to beat her down. She wasn't going to let herself be scared by them, and if they tried anything, she could probably even take both of them at once.

---Falco was in a pretty sad state though, and the boys were shooting him as many glares as her as they tried to pull themselves together.

Gabi swallowed down a knot in her throat. She’d been able to pounce on one of the boys before, but now she’d lost the element of surprise. Could she take them on without it? Probably , but with Falco all scared and beaten up…

No. There was no time to think or plan or worry. She had to act now.

"Come on," Gabi said before grabbing Falco's wrist and starting off at a run.

"Where are we going?" Falco asked. He didn't try to pull away. In fact, he kept up with her easily. Good. This would be easier if she didn't need to drag him all the way home.

"My house. We're gonna get you patched up."

"Oh. You don't need to-"

"Shut up, Falco."

He shut up.

Upon reaching her house, Gabi shoved the front door open and dragged Falco into the kitchen. Her mother was standing by the sink washing dishes, but looked up in surprise at the sudden sound. "Gabi," she greeted. Her gaze traveled down her arm, over to Falco, where a hint of wariness entered her expression. "Who's this?" she asked.

"Falco," Gabi said. "He's hurt."

"I can see that," her mother slowly said.

Her eyes flickered over to meet Gabi's. Gabi stood firm. Finally, her mother sighed.

"Let's get him taken care of, then."

Her mother patched Falco up and sent him on his way. Gabi knew that she wouldn't be allowed to go back out for the rest of the day after that, so she just told him that she'd see him tomorrow. And for hours, that was that.

Until dinner rolled around and, with everyone gathered around the table, her mother mentioned the boy Gabi brought over.

"You aren't supposed to be making friends with Eldians," her aunt said, disapproving.

Her mother snorted. "You're one to talk," she muttered.

"Gabi, how long have you been hanging out with this boy?" her father asked, worry clear in his voice.

Gabi shrugged. "A while." A few months. It had been a few months since she'd told him her name and started meeting up with him. Her parents wouldn't be happy with her if she said that though.

Her father's frown deepened. "Gabi-"

"I was bored!" Gabi exclaimed. "I'm not supposed to talk to anyone, and it's boring and-" lonely. "- it sucks."

"I can understand that," her mother said, voice slow and careful. "But you know there's a reason you aren't supposed to talk to Eldians, right?"

"I know," Gabi said. "But Falco's..." she paused, struggling to find the words. After a moment, she turned to look at her aunt. "Aunt Karina, you said that some Eldians are different from the others. Better." That was what she'd tried to say about him anyway. Gabi didn't trust that her aunt had been right at all when she said that, didn't see how he had made anything but bad things happen, but Falco... "Falco's like that. He's special."

Maybe he was her friend after all.

No one said anything for a long time. Finally, her aunt said, "be that as it may, you're better off not getting attached. We'll be getting out of here when Reiner gets back."

Gabi's parents glanced at each other and exchanged some wordless message. She looked at them and frowned, but quickly turned her attention back to her aunt. "That could take ages though!" she protested. "You can't tell me that I'm supposed to be alone until then! Falco's a good Eldian - you should let me play with him."

The room went quiet again. Her mother eventually sighed and, with reluctance plain in her voice, said, "alright. You can continue to see this boy. Just... be careful, and don't let yourself get too attached. You are still Marleyan, Gabi. This can't last forever."

"You should meet the other warrior candidates sometime," Falco suggested.

Gabi wrinkled her nose. "Why?" she asked.

"Because I think you'd all get along?"

He was doing that thing again, the one where he tried to sound confident but ended up sounding more like he was asking a question than anything. It made Gabi raise an eyebrow at him. That, in turn, made him falter.

"And also... I think you could use more friends," he hesitantly admitted.

Gabi frowned. Why on earth would he say something like that?

(Was he getting sick of her?)

"I don't need more friends," she said.

It was true. She had managed without any friends for years. Now she was almost eight years old and stronger than ever. She was perfectly fine with it staying just her and Falco.

(Was he okay with that?)

"Maybe not, but you deserve more," Falco argued.

Gabi relaxed imperceptibly.

"I don't want to make friends with just anybody," she said warily. The closest she could come to saying the truth.

"I know," Falco said, even though he really, really didn't. "But I think you'll really like them! I'm actually kinda..." He trailed off, then looked away.

Gabi leaned forward to get a closer look at the blush trailing up his cheeks. "You're kinda what?"

He hitched his shoulders up and ducked his head down.

"Falco!" Gabi pressed. "What were you going to say?"

"I'm kinda surprised that you aren't in the warrior program," he squeaked out, still not looking up. "I think you'd be good at it."

"Oh." Gabi looked down at her feet and tapped her fingers against the bench they were sitting on. She definitely couldn't tell him the truth about that one. What could she tell him though? What would he believe? What could she say that didn't run the risk of him finding out that she was lying later?

(Would she be in the warrior program if she was an Eldian? They seemed to think it was a big honor to be chosen to turn into a monster.)

"I'm not in the warrior program because... there's no need," Gabi slowly said.

Falco perked up. The blush was gone. Now he just looked at her with curiosity glimmering in her eyes. "What do you mean?" he asked.

Gabi struggled to hold his gaze and force her next words out, but somehow, she managed. "My cousin's the Armored Titan." A devil, even though she knew Falco wouldn't see it like that.

And he didn't.

Falco gasped. "He is! Why didn't you tell me!? Gabi, that's... hey." The curiosity shifted into worry as he reached out to touch her arm. "Is... is something wrong?"

Gabi blinked, which caused her to realize just how much her eyes stung. Oh. Oh no.

"I'm fine," she said, reaching an arm up to scrub at her eyes. "I just don't see what's so great about turning into a monster."

"The shifters aren't monsters," Falco said, a flicker of hurt flashing across his face.

Right . Falco was a warrior candidate. All of his training was in the hopes that one day he'd be chosen to turn into a monster. Just like her cousin. If he was chosen...

No, surely it wouldn't be the same. Falco was a good thing in her life. A good person. Her cousin had caused her family a whole lot of harm, and no matter what her aunt said, it didn't look like whatever he was doing on that island was doing anything to make it better. He and Falco weren't, wouldn't, and couldn't be the same.

Gabi wanted to tell Falco that it was okay, that he was an exception, but she couldn't risk him asking why. The best she could do was let the fire drain out of her voice as she said, "they turn into titans. Isn't that upsetting to you?"

"A little," Falco confessed. "But the shifters are really brave."

"Because they protect Marley?"

"Kinda, but also... I think they do a lot for their families."

Gabi blinked. When she didn't say anything, Falco nodded and continued. "You know how titan shifters get to be honorary Marleyans, right? And their families get some benefits because of that."

Gabi nodded, even though her family hadn't received much in the way of extra benefits other than not being executed. Her aunt said that would change once her cousin returned from Paradis, but she wasn't sure how much she trusted that, seeing as he was the reason they were in this situation in the first place.

"Sometimes, it's also a second chance." Falco paused then, eyes clouding over with sadness. "My... My uncle did something bad, a long time ago. He was sent to paradise, and now me and Colt are in the warrior program to prove that the whole family isn't evil."

Gabi reached out to squeeze Falco's hand. "I'm sorry," she murmured.

(Not about his uncle, obviously, but anyone who spent a little time with Falco should be able to tell that he wasn't evil regardless of who he was related to.)

Falco gave her a small smile. "Thanks. I think we'll... I hope we'll do well. But for us and the others... it's a way to prove ourselves, take care of our family, and show Marley that we aren't evil . It's the closest that we'll come to them seeing us as people. Turning into a titan doesn't feel like it matters much, compared to that."

Gabi didn't know what to say to that. Luckily, she didn't need to, because Falco kept on talking. "Udo and Zofia - the candidates I spend the most time with - are almost as hard-working as you. I think you'd get along."

The pair were silent for a moment. Then, finally, Gabi sighed. "Alright. You can introduce me to them."

They couldn't be her friends, not like Falco, but... maybe they would be decent company.

Udo and Zofia were alright. They weren't Falco, but… they were alright.

A few months after she turned eight years old, Gabi woke up to the sound of shouting.

It cut off almost immediately after, but the damage was already done by then. How could she roll over and go back to bed when she knew that something was happening?

She crept out of bed as quietly as her feet could carry her. Once she was outside her room, she could hear her family's voices again. They were too quiet for her to make out what they were saying, but loud enough for her to follow the sound. It led her to the kitchen. There, she pressed herself up against the wall just outside the entryway and strained to listen.

"You're delusional, Karina!" her mother spat.

Her father sounded worried as he began, "Lyra-"

Her aunt cut him off. "I am not! When Reiner gets back-"

"- If gets back-"

"- Don't you dare-"

"- If he gets back, then he might be forgiven for existing. Do you really think that'll do anything to help our situation?"

Her aunt sniffed. "If Reiner does well-"

"Karina, that's a lot of 'if's," her father said, voice low.

"Well, excuse me for having faith in my son, George."

"You can have your faith," her mother cut in, voice cold. "It doesn't matter. Even if he does everything perfectly, the best we can hope for is to be treated like the families of the other Eldian warrior families."

For a moment, silence descended over the household, and all Gabi could hear was her own heart beating. It was broken by her aunt's voice, lower and more subdued, saying, "well, if he gets honorary Marleyan status, they might-"

Her mother laughed, harsh and unhappy. "Let us all back into Marley? You've been in this place for too long, Karina. Even if they let us out, it won't be until Reiner's-"

"Don't. Say it."

"...There's nothing Reiner can do to help us," her mother said after a long moment. "And I'm not saying it's his fault. I'm saying that it would be nice if you would take a little responsibility."

"Responsibility for what?"

"Are you kidding-"

"I've already been punished, haven't I? Me and Reiner. I know honorary Marleyan status isn't that great, but we are more than that. I know that this place is awful. But we will get out eventually. The deal was that our status as Marleyan citizens will be restored if we perform well. What are you worried about?"

"I'm worried about Gabi."

Gabi felt a lump lodge itself in her throat. She took in a deep breath and held it, since she wasn't sure if she'd be able to stay quiet otherwise.

"What about Gabi?" Her aunt asked. "She's been adjusting well."

"Yes, because she was thrown in here when she was three," her mother argued. "By the time Reiner dies, the Eldian Internment Zone will be all she's ever known. What if they aren't willing to take her back?"

It became hard to hear after that. Her family was still talking just as loudly as before, but the pounding of her heart and buzzing in her head made it hard for her to think.

Marley might not want her back? Just because she had grown up in Liberio? Where they had made her grow up? Why? What were they afraid she would do? It was ridiculous and weird and... unfair.

(They treated Falco unfairly, making him and his brother join the warrior program because of their uncle.)

Gabi raced back to her room and crawled into bed. She laid there, eyes squeezed shut, pretending that she was asleep. Between the racket in her head and heart, it felt like someone should have heard her. Like someone would come in and check on her in a moment. But no one did.

After a few moments, she opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling.

Then she started to plan.

The facts were simple.

Gabi's family wanted to get out of Liberio. Aunt Karina thought that Reiner would get them out. Her mother didn't think that there was anything he could do to help, which made sense. Reiner was the reason they were in this situation in the first place. How could he possibly make anything better?

Her mother was also worried that Marley wouldn't take Gabi back because she had grown up in Liberio. It made sense when she stopped to think about it. How were Marley's important people supposed to know that Gabi was only hanging out with good Eldians like Falco and Udo and Zofia? They might have been worried that the bad Eldians had rubbed off on her. It wasn't fair, since they were the ones who made her grow up in Liberio in the first place, but...

Marley wasn't always fair. That was why Falco was in the warrior program because of something his uncle had done. He was a good Eldian, but he had to work himself to the bone to prove it. Because sometimes Marley struggled to see things that should have been obvious and pick the good Eldians out from all the bad. That was probably going to be the situation with her. She would need to make them see that it was still good.

Sometimes the warrior program served as a second chance. It was an opportunity to prove that you were good despite who you were related to - or grew up around.

Gabi didn't have a drop of Eldian blood in her. She wouldn't be accepted as a warrior candidate because she couldn't inherit a titan in the first place. However, there were also non-shifters who worked with the Eldian unit. Most of them were the Marleyans who kept them in line, but she'd heard that there were a few exceptions, lower-ranked soldiers who'd proven themselves exceptional. If she could become one of them, if she could make herself useful to Marley and prove herself in their eyes, show that she hadn't become too sympathetic toward the Eldians and only surrounded herself with the very best of them...

Reiner was working for Marley because he had no other choice. But not her. Surely that would mean something.

She would help her family where Reiner couldn't. She would become one of their very best warriors, and when the time came, her family would be allowed back into Marley. And Gabi would go with them.

(She would miss Falco.)

"What if I joined the military?" Gabi asked.

Falco choked on his own spit and almost fell off the rock. She grabbed onto his shoulder to steady him, even though they were tall enough now that it wouldn't be much of a drop even if he did fall.

"W-why would you do that?" he asked. "I thought- your cousin-"

"Have you considered that maybe I also want to be useful?" Gabi challenged, letting go of his arm and leaning forward.

Falco leaned back. "There are plenty of other ways to be useful. The military's - it's really dangerous."

Gabi crossed her arms and let out a huff. "I'm fine with dangerous. Besides, that's not all there is to it. The family can't depend entirely on Reiner, and I want to help."

"Are you sure?" Falco asked. "I mean, if there's anything you need, I c-" He looked away, cheeks slowly starting to dust pink. "There are other ways," he said.

"Yeah, but none of them would be as effective." Nothing else would get her in around the warrior program, which was what she needed to happen.

"I see." Falco bit his lower lip. "I mean, it would be nice to see you more often, I guess. If you'll be around the warriors."

"Of course," Gabi said, allowing a hint of haughtiness to slip into her voice. "I have a plan." It was a risky plan, but she was sure it would pay off.

"Are you- Are you trying to get in to the program?" he asked, a hint of nervousness creeping into his voice. Probably worried that she would outscore him if she got in. She probably would, too, if it wasn't impossible.

"No," Gabi said. "It's probably too late for me to get in. But I can do the next best thing and work with you."

Falco nodded. He didn't look entirely convinced, but that wasn't her problem. She knew that she wouldn't actually pose a threat to his standing. He had no reason to worry, and in time, hopefully he would see that.

It did make her want to change the subject though.

"Speaking of, Colt's doing well, isn't he?"

"Yeah," Falco said, perking up a little. "It looks like there's a real chance he'll be chosen as the beast titan's successor."

"That's great!" Gabi said. "Are you going to drop out if he's chosen?"

Falco hesitated. When he spoke, it was with a new flicker of resolve in his eyes. "No," he said. "I don't think I will."

Gabi had met Commander Magath several times since she started hanging out with Udo and Zofia. He was a strict man who generally seemed to view Eldians the same as all Marleyans. However, he didn't take it long for her to start to suspect that he cared about the warrior candidates more than he let on. She was also pretty sure that he liked her, even if he did sometimes look at her like he was seeing a ghost.

So much of her plan hinged on the hope that she was right about him liking her. It could mean so much trouble if she was wrong. But if she was right...

The potential benefits of her being right outweighed the risk of her being wrong.

Her opportunity arose on a bright warm day. Gabi was walking around town with Falco, Udo, and Zofia when she spotted Magath walking down the street with Zeke Jaeger and a handful of other officials. She didn't know who most of them were or what they were doing there. It didn't matter. All that mattered was that most of them were Marleyan and one of them looked like he outranked Magath.

Gabi turned to her friends and grinned. "I'll be right back," she whispered, taking a step back.

Udo and Zofia exchanged a confused look but didn't question her. Falco, however, stepped forward, worry shining bright on his face. "What are you doing?" he asked.

Gabi's grin grew. "I told you. I'm going to get into the military."

She didn't wait so much as another second before turning around and racing toward the officials. As she did, she coaxed her expression into one of gleaming admiration, the sort that even the soldier from that day in the marketplace would have had trouble lashing out against.

"Excuse me!" she cried. "Commander Magath, Mister Jaeger!" Gabi saluted smartly - perfectly - as she skidded to a stop in front of them. Then, as she looked at the Marleyans, she made sure to look at them like they were heroes, perfect and above her in every way. The way every Marleyan wanted Eldians to look at them. "Are these your superiors?"

All of the men looked caught off-guard. Magath, though, he looked wary.

That wariness might have caused a problem if Zeke didn't beat him to responding. "They are," he said.

"That's so cool!" Gabi exclaimed. Her voice was perfectly sincere. She didn't even need to fake it, considering what she was saying. Even if her own circumstances kind of sucked, she could still appreciate the good that all of these men did. "Thank you for everything you do. My mother was telling me about the devil island the other day, and I'm really glad that Marley's here to protect everyone. I know Liberio's full of Eldians, but I'm glad we don't have those devils with us."

She could practically feel Magath's gaze boring into her at this point. As the chief overseer of the warrior unit, he knew about her family, which meant that he probably knew she was up to something. And because he knew about her family, there was too big a risk that he would turn her down if she approached him and asked to be thrown into the military. That was why he wasn't the one that mattered here though. Gabi kept her gaze on the other Marleyans, noting the bemused expressions. One of them, the one who outranked Magath, gave a tiny nod.

It was working.

"I was actually thinking," Gabi continued, training a hint of humility and hope into her voice. "I want to help the warrior unit!"

In the corner of her eyes, she noticed Magath's expression shift into one of shock. There was something else under it though, something tired and guarded.

"You do, do you?" Zeke asked, amusement leaking into his voice.

"I do!" Gabi exclaimed. "I know I'm probably too old to become a warrior candidate, but there have to be other ways I can help, so let me prove myself to you! If you give me the chance, I'll train night and day to catch up!"

Magath frowned at that point. "Gabi..."

"Magath, you know this girl?" the commanding officer cut in.

"I do," Magath said. "She's the Armored Titan's cousin."

Zeke raised an eyebrow at that. The other Marleyans, however, looked thoughtful, but not suspicious or concerned. Good.

Gabi held her breath.

Finally, the higher ranking officer turned to Magath and said, "she should already be familiar with the program then, and we could always use another soldier."

"No point in turning down such an earnest offer to help," Zeke remarked, an odd twinkle in his eyes.

When Magath hesitated for a moment longer, the commanding officer pointed out, "I'm sure you can find some use for her."

Magath let out a deep breath. "Fine." As he turned to Gabi, eyes shadowed and grave, she was certain that he was seeing someone other than her. It didn't matter though, because he said, "come with Falco to training tomorrow."

Gabi took in a deep breath and smiled so widely that she thought it might pop off her face. "Thank you, Sir!"

Zeke chuckled. Magath, meanwhile, waved a hand and said, "you're dismissed."

Gabi saluted before sprinting back to her friends, and every step felt like she was walking on air.

She was going to save her family. They were going to get out of Liberio.

(Maybe, if they both did well, she could bring Falco with her.)

#Gabi Braun #Falco Grice #Falbi #Reiner Braun #SNK #SNK Fic #Attack on Titan #my fic #my writing #unchanging destinations

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fortunaaamajor · 4 years

Text

The Ultracheese (Fred Weasley)

(This was previously posted on my old account that has now been moved here, sorry if anyone is seeing this twice.)

Fred Weasley x Reader

This story is based on one of my favourite lyrics at the moment. It’s a mainly fluffy, cheesy but angsty in parts story of Fred and Reader reminiscing on their relationship.

Reader is vague - gender not specified, no specific house mentioned.

Song Link: The Ultracheese by Arctic Monkeys

Warnings: Mild bad language, mentions of Umbridge’s Black Quill (torture)

Word Count: 2k

Although I am using the Harry Potter universe as a basis for this story I do not support JK Rowling or her views.

“Fred Gideon Weasley!” a piercing shriek from Molly erupted through the bottom floor of the Burrow, as Fred skidded into the living room where you were sitting. You gave him a pointed look as she followed him through muttering about “…making my life so difficult, can you just give me one moment to RELAX, you’re old enough to know better at this age - both of you!” her voice rose at the end of her rant so that George could also get the gist from wherever he had run off to in the cramped house. Fred was chuckling as he plopped himself down beside you. He glanced at his long suffering mother as she took a couple of deep breaths, turned on her heel and left the room, but not before spitting out something about he and his twin being “…inconsiderate, childish…”.

Lifting up the crochet blanket you were sitting under, Fred attempted to weasel his way in beside you. He looked slightly hurt at Molly’s last comment, you captured his jaw in your hand carefully and turned it towards you

“Go and apologise to her. Bonus points if you can convince George to join you.”

“But it was only a-”

“Uh uh! I don’t wanna hear it, you know I’m right. It’ll make all three of you feel better. Go.”

He hung his head, knowing you were right yet wondering how he’d ever ended up falling so hopelessly in love with someone who had a tongue almost as sharp as his mother’s.

When he returned the crochet blanket was being held open for him and there was space for him to curl up beside you. He rested his head on top of yours, kissing your hair. “How come you always know how to get me out of trouble?” he mused as his hand crept round your shoulders to hold you closer to him.

“I’ve been practicing, one day I’ll share all I’ve learnt with you Freddie boy.” you replied dryly, but with a peck on his cheek afterwards.

And practicing you had been, for four years. You had always known it would be this way when you fell in love with Fred - your second ‘date’ was in detention for Godric’s sake. He and George had roped you into helping prank Filch, being as smitten as you were for the older twin you had accepted. Unfortunately, as the three of you hid behind a suit of armour Fred had tried to be smooth and brought the whole thing crashing down (literally).

“Good job darling, you can definitely join us again” he had whispered in your ear. Then as he reached a hand round your waist he knocked the armour, which as if it had an occupant, had jumped away from the three of you - still intact. The clatter of the armour alerted Mrs Norris, and when Filch came running there was no longer anything hiding you all from his beady stare.

That was how you came to be sitting in Professor Binns’ room on Thursday afternoon, with Fred attempting to flirt silently from a few desks away. The clock was counting down until dinner, which couldn’t come quick enough. Not only were you starving but you knew that Fred would no doubt bound up to you in the Great Hall later ready to talk your ear off about his newest invention to try and impress you. It was sweet really, to see him like such a lovesick puppy who never wanted to leave your side - you might even have made fun of him if it hadn’t made your heart rate increase and your face flush with heat.

For now, under the (not so) watchful eye of Professor Binns, he had to stick with writing notes and placing them on the desk between you as silently as he could.

The first note appeared blank until his handwriting scribbled out his message…

UH OH, SORRY ABOUT THIS! HOW CAN I EVER MAKE IT UP TO YOU?

Looking over you saw him pouting, bottom lip jutted out. Blushing, you just shrugged, trying to play it cool. He frowned and sent another note your way…

SATURDAY NIGHT HOT CHOCOLATE IN MY DORM? I’LL SNEAK YOU IN X

The words scrawled in front of you caused your cheeks to burn and your palms to sweat. All you could muster was turning to him and nodding. His retort of blowing you a kiss had you reeling, so much so you didn’t notice Professor Binns coughing quietly at the front of the room.

These shared detentions lost their appeal when Umbridge arrived at Hogwarts and started enacting her ‘stupid bloody toad rules’ as Fred called them. He worried about ever getting you in trouble with the nightmare clad in pink and forbade you from joining in on any pranks, or even helping out with Weasley Products. Umbridge had it in for you because of your link with the twins, even if you were perfectly polite and pleasant she would nitpick or accuse you of things you hadn’t done. This broke Fred’s heart, especially after the three of you first experienced that damn black quill. From then on, Fred was on high alert, the idea of that monster getting her hands on you again made him want to scream. Fifteen minutes into a dull Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson she had already pounced,“Weasley, see me after class.” she scolded, her tone clipped.

“But Professor I…” he had begun to exclaim, before she raised her arched brows

“Three of my second years this morning had to be excused due to illness… I know one of your ghastly concoctions was behind it.” she practically sang.

Fred knew the group of boys she was referring to, they had been saving up for Puking Pastilles in order to skive one of Umbridge’s lessons, and to be honest, he didn’t blame them. He said nothing, but a voice piped up from across the class. Horrified, he realised it was you.

“Professor, you can’t possibly blame Fred for that! What if there’s a bug going round? Or what if they bought the product from someone else?”

Umbridge tried to suppress a smile as she nodded along.

“I see, you can join Mr Weasley in detention, along with his brother. I’m assuming he is the ‘someone else’ you were referring to, Y/L/N?” she quipped, turning now to George. You groaned, looking over apologetically at George as that was definitely not the outcome you had hoped for. Fred had to clench his fist to stop from lashing out.

Back in the common room Fred was angry, the angriest you or George had ever seen him. “She’s a cow, a wretched cow. Y/N you shouldn’t have gotten involved, you know exactly what she’s going to do to you - do to all three of us. I can’t bear it.” This had you frowning, explaining you would rather go through that pain with him, and be there for him.

“NO! Don’t sacrifice yourself for me, if she hurts you Godric knows what I’ll do to her - and then what will happen? How can it possibly get any worse than bloody torture?”

All three of you were silenced by his outburst. He saw the stress in the lines in your forehead and the anguish in your eyes. Reaching out for you, he surrounded you in warmth. “Y/N, I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry. I shouldn’t have acted like that. I just hate to see you hurting, but I appreciate you always wanting to be there for me. I really do, love.”

The twins’ final day was one you would never forget. You’d only known about their plan for a few days - they couldn’t risk anyone finding out and putting a stop to it. Fred would definitely be happier away from Hogwarts and, more vitally, Umbridge. She would hopefully ease up on all of your unjustified detentions as well if they were no longer there to provoke her. In only a few short months you and Fred would be back to spending your days together, and he had big plans to save for your future away from Hogwarts. To him, this was simply preparation and planning (two things he excelled at if he did say so himself) for the rest of your lives.

The day arrived, standing outside the Great Hall you saw the excitement running through the twins. The morning had been blissful, Fred had snuck you both to Hogsmeade and you had relived one of your first dates. Then by the fire of the common room you had spoken about the future, and the plans that were just about to begin. After a bittersweet kiss, he had mounted his broomstick with George and kicked off the ground. Your heart soared watching him do what he did best, the chaos and joy of the scene surrounding you was enough to make you well up with pride. As the sparks rained down he caught your eye and winked. Umbridge’s uncontrollable fury was the perfect ending to your day as she stood seething amid the cheering, happy students. You made sure to describe it all in glorious detail in the owl you sent to Fred that same evening.

The worst ever trick pulled on you by Fred was the moment that you realised that sometimes fun and games weren’t always… well… fun and games. You two had spent the day together in the bedroom of the flat above the shop. In the morning he had a short meeting with George about work stuff. After that, he had returned to bed and the two of you had relaxed, sharing kisses, chatting nonsense and talking about life until you felt it was time to get up. Heading through to the kitchen you saw an unfamiliar potion bottle, “Freddie, what’s the new product?” you had shouted through before picking it up and sniffing it. Immediately your nose screwed up and you spluttered “eurgh, smells like Polyjuice potion!” turning to Fred, who was plating up breakfast using small flicks of his wand. “Are you allowed to sell this in the shop? Has someone tested it?” your brows pulled together. “Oh, love I must’ve forgotten to say - I’m testing it right now!”

“Freddie, what do you mean?” you looked over at him. That’s when you noticed, Fred’s small scar on his eyebrow was gone. In fact, upon closer inspection you weren’t looking at Fred, you were looking at George. As you frowned his eyes widened dramatically.

“Oh… its worn off.” whispered George as he stood infront of you, “We tried it out at the end of the meeting but it must have been an hour since then.”

“FRED AND GEORGE WEASLEY YOU HAVE 5 MINUTES TO EXPLAIN YOURSELF BEFORE I BURN THE SHOP AND EVERYTHING IN IT TO THE GROUND!” you bellowed, rushing round the flat in an attempt to find the real Fred.

When you found him, he was doubled over laughing. “You can quit that! I’ve just spend the last hour cuddling your bloody brother you prick” you raged at him. He wiped tears of laughter from his eyes and tried, unsucessfully, to pull you into his arms.

“No Fred this is not funny, you can’t just use me as a test subject, you don’t get to mess with me like that. Have some respect!” you continued to shout.

“Darling, darling. The thing is… you weren’t cuddling my brother. We just planted the potion for you to find and swapped when we went into the kitchen, babe, It was me earlier!” Fred wheezed. He looked over at George who was standing in the doorway, caught between a terrified sort of trance at your reaction and a chuckle bubbling from his lips.

“Brother of mine, this was all very fun but please remind me never ever to try and trick Y/N ever again, that was really…scary.” he admitted.

“I know,” smiled Fred “wasn’t it brilliant!”

Back on the sofa in The Burrow, Fred couldn’t believe his ears “What do you mean by practicing?” he asked incredulously. You scoffed “You’ve been getting yourself, and sometimes me, in bother for four years now Fred. I had to adapt to survive!” he chuckled at this. “Ok fair play…” he whispered into your hair, leaning down to hover his lips over yours, “I’ve done some things that I shouldn’t have done… but I haven’t stopped loving you once.”

A/N: Please let me know if you enjoyed this story, my requests are currently open but please read the guidelines on my page first. Thanks for reading.

#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley one shot #fred weasley fic #harry potter imagines #harry potter one shots #harry potter fic #fred weasley fluff #hp fic #hp imagine #hp one shot #fred weasley

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fortunaamajor · 4 years

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The Ultracheese (Fred Weasley)

Fred Weasley x Reader

This story is based on one of my favourite lyrics at the moment. It’s a mainly fluffy, cheesy but angsty in parts story of Fred and Reader reminiscing on their relationship.

Reader is vague - gender not specified, no specific house mentioned.

Song Link: The Ultracheese by Arctic Monkeys

Warnings: Mild bad language, mentions of Umbridge’s Black Quill (torture)

Word Count: 2k

Although I am using the Harry Potter universe as a basis for this story I do not support JK Rowling or her views.

“Fred Gideon Weasley!” a piercing shriek from Molly erupted through the bottom floor of the Burrow, as Fred skidded into the living room where you were sitting. You gave him a pointed look as she followed him through muttering about “...making my life so difficult, can you just give me one moment to RELAX, you’re old enough to know better at this age - both of you!” her voice rose at the end of her rant so that George could also get the gist from wherever he had run off to in the cramped house. Fred was chuckling as he plopped himself down beside you. He glanced at his long suffering mother as she took a couple of deep breaths, turned on her heel and left the room, but not before spitting out something about he and his twin being “...inconsiderate, childish...”.

“Go and apologise to her. Bonus points if you can convince George to join you.”

“But it was only a-”

“Uh uh! I don’t wanna hear it, you know I’m right. It’ll make all three of you feel better. Go.”

He hung his head, knowing you were right yet wondering how he’d ever ended up falling so hopelessly in love with someone who had a tongue almost as sharp as his mother’s.

“I’ve been practicing, one day I’ll share all I’ve learnt with you Freddie boy.” you replied dryly, but with a peck on his cheek afterwards.

For now, under the (not so) watchful eye of Professor Binns, he had to stick with writing notes and placing them on the desk between you as silently as he could.

The first note appeared blank until his handwriting scribbled out his message...

UH OH, SORRY ABOUT THIS! HOW CAN I EVER MAKE IT UP TO YOU?

Looking over you saw him pouting, bottom lip jutted out. Blushing, you just shrugged, trying to play it cool. He frowned and sent another note your way...

SATURDAY NIGHT HOT CHOCOLATE IN MY DORM? I’LL SNEAK YOU IN X

“But Professor I...” he had begun to exclaim, before she raised her arched brows

“Three of my second years this morning had to be excused due to illness... I know one of your ghastly concoctions was behind it.” she practically sang.

“Professor, you can’t possibly blame Fred for that! What if there’s a bug going round? Or what if they bought the product from someone else?”

Umbridge tried to suppress a smile as she nodded along.

“NO! Don’t sacrifice yourself for me, if she hurts you Godric knows what I’ll do to her - and then what will happen? How can it possibly get any worse than bloody torture?”

The worst ever trick pulled on you by Fred was the moment that you realised that sometimes fun and games weren’t always... well... fun and games. You two had spent the day together in the bedroom of the flat above the shop. In the morning he had a short meeting with George about work stuff. After that, he had returned to bed and the two of you had relaxed, sharing kisses, chatting nonsense and talking about life until you felt it was time to get up. Heading through to the kitchen you saw an unfamiliar potion bottle, “Freddie, what’s the new product?” you had shouted through before picking it up and sniffing it. Immediately your nose screwed up and you spluttered “eurgh, smells like Polyjuice potion!” turning to Fred, who was plating up breakfast using small flicks of his wand. “Are you allowed to sell this in the shop? Has someone tested it?” your brows pulled together. “Oh, love I must’ve forgotten to say - I’m testing it right now!”

“Oh... its worn off.” whispered George as he stood infront of you, “We tried it out at the end of the meeting but it must have been an hour since then.”

“No Fred this is not funny, you can’t just use me as a test subject, you don’t get to mess with me like that. Have some respect!” you continued to shout.

“Darling, darling. The thing is... you weren’t cuddling my brother. We just planted the potion for you to find and swapped when we went into the kitchen, babe, It was me earlier!” Fred wheezed. He looked over at George who was standing in the doorway, caught between a terrified sort of trance at your reaction and a chuckle bubbling from his lips.

“Brother of mine, this was all very fun but please remind me never ever to try and trick Y/N ever again, that was really...scary.” he admitted.

“I know,” smiled Fred “wasn’t it brilliant!”

Back on the sofa in The Burrow, Fred couldn’t believe his ears “What do you mean by practicing?” he asked incredulously. You scoffed “You’ve been getting yourself, and sometimes me, in bother for four years now Fred. I had to adapt to survive!” he chuckled at this. “Ok fair play...” he whispered into your hair, leaning down to hover his lips over yours, “I’ve done some things that I shouldn’t have done... but I haven’t stopped loving you once.”

A/N: Please let me know if you enjoyed this story, my requests are currently open but please read the guidelines on my page first. Thanks for reading.

#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley fic #fred weasley one shot #harry potter imagines #harry potter one shots #harry potter fic #fred weasley fluff #hp fic #hp imagine #hp one shot

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romioneficfest · 4 years

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A different kind of apology

Title: A Different Kind of Apology

Prompt/Day: Day 7 - Anything goes!

Tumblr name:

Rating: K+

Brief summary: Ron has just returned, fresh after destroying the locket, and Hermione has never been more furious: though he, undoubtedly, expects her temper to subside after a few hours —as it usually does—, night falls again and she still refuses to talk to him. What she doesn’t expect, though, is that he’ll try anything for her to forgive him.

She lays in bed, lost in thought, facing nowhere as she feels her thoughts stew. They haven’t stopped boiling since he’s come back: a Molotov cocktail of relief, euphoria, incapacitating hurt, and steely fury is brewing in her mind, and it’s all she can do to keep it from exploding.

So she’s kept her mouth shut.

Not an easy feat for her, especially not when she feels herself overflowing with things to tell him (it’s so good you’re back, I’ve been dying to talk to you), with things she wishes she’d said before (don’t leave me, Ron, I can’t do it without you), with things she yearns to spit in his face (how dare you, walking out like that, I thought you were dead)… But some things take precedence over others, and for Hermione Granger, the utmost priority is always to think— and right now, she needs some silence to do it properly.

She hears a rustle as someone clambers in through the tent flap. Harry’s on guard tonight: he’d been volunteering a lot more today (undoubtedly an effort to get her to talk to Ron), but she hadn’t let him; finally, when he’d noticed she was starting to succumb to exhaustion, he’d forced her to step inside and get some rest, Hermione, for Merlin’s sake.

So she had, and Harry had taken her wand to sit out front and keep watch.

But that means there’s only one person who could be climbing in right now— and it’s the person she least wants to talk to in the world right now. So she rolls over in bed, her blankets shifting as she switches her gaze to the opposite wall, keeping her brow furrowed and her back turned to the rest of the tent.

“‘Mione,” she hears a soft plea, and her heart threatens to melt: he never calls you that, he must mean it, oh Merlin, it’s so sweet. However, her anger regains command and steers her harshly away from that path: he left you, he screamed at you, and he came back laughing, like nothing had happened… With steely determination, she remains where she is. “'Mione, please…”

And still nothing.

A second later, she hears the cot springs squeak as another weight settles down on it— and she really has to steel herself to keep her arms crossed, her face unyielding, to not reach out and smack him, how dare you, Ronald…

“You don’t have to talk. I know you don’t want to. But just listen to me, please.” Silence. “Please, can you do that?” She keeps her silence, impassive. Ron seems to take it as a yes, sighs, and plunges in: “I know I should’ve never left…”

She hears a cold laugh rattling around her insides, and hates how it sounds: Oh, figured that out, didn’t you, you bright boy, took you long enough to realize you should’ve stayed. She shakes it off; its cruelty scares her, and she refuses to think that’s how she really feels.

“…and I’m sorry I did,” he continues. “And if I have to keep apologizing to you every day of my life until you believe me, Hermione Granger, I will. There wasn’t a second after I’d stepped outside your spells —they’re brilliant, by the way, I really couldn’t see anything, but of course you don’t need me to tell you that— that I didn’t wish I hadn’t. And it’s not like I went back and lived comfortably in the Burrow, you know, I had to hide too—” She scoffs, and he hurries to correct the offense: “—well, of course it’s wasn’t as bad as you lot had it, but still… It would’ve been better if I’d been with you. Everything is, Hermione, please trust me on that.”

She still says nothing. That awful part of her, the one that keeps cackling in the pit of her stomach, wants to see him grovel, wants to see him beg, wants to see him get on his knees and bawl for forgiveness. But Hermione’s nothing if not level-headed, even when she’s the angriest she’s ever been, and so she holds her icy silence.

He tries a different approach now, in a softer tone, at a slower pace: “I meant it, Hermione, it was your voice I heard coming from the Deluminator. There’s no way I could’ve made that up. Your voice— well, it’s the only thing that could’ve brought me back. And it did. I don’t think— I mean, if it’d been Harry’s, I would’ve thought the thing was cursed and chucked it,” he stops to chuckle, but quickly zips it when he notices she stiffens rather than laughs. “You don’t understand, do you? It’s you. I came back for you. Yeah, of course, it’s a noble quest and we’re going to save the Wizarding World and all that rubbish that some kids are gonna be bored listening to Binns droll about in a few decades, but I came back for you. I couldn’t bear the thought of you alone. I couldn’t bear not seeing your face among the first things I saw when I opened my eyes every morning. I couldn’t bear the fact that I wasn’t getting regularly lectured in the same voice that brought me back. I couldn’t stand it, alright? Guilt was a factor, I can’t deny that, but being away from you is the hardest thing I’ve had to do.”

The beast in her chest is quiet now. It’s not purring —though it wants to, a part of it does, he missed you, Hermione, you, he came back for you—, but it’s laying low, still on the lookout for a threat without being on attack. Ron seems to sense her softening, because he places a hand on her shoulder. She doesn’t swat it away— whether it’s because her anger is still petrifying her or because she genuinely wants it there, not even she can tell. “Say something, Hermione,” he pleads, even softer this time. “Anything. You don’t have to say you forgive me. You don’t have to say it’s okay. Just say… say… say anything.”

She’s still not looking at him, but it’s as if he’s deflated. He doesn’t try anything more— is he still hoping? Is he thinking she’s going to roll over and look at him and tell him it’s okay, you lovely boy, I forgive you? She can’t lie to herself— a part of her wants to, it’s pulling at her heartstrings to just look at him already, but she won’t give in. She can’t. She’s too angry, and he needs to know that, he needs to know just how broken he left her.

She doesn’t move.

Everything stands still for a moment, a tension thickening the air so much you could slash through it. Then he speaks again, almost mumbling: “Alright, you don’t wanna talk to me, I understand that. Just let me try to apologize to you— let me show you how much you mean to me— in a different way.”

The bedsprings lift again, and she thinks he’s gone to sleep, he’s gonna try again tomorrow, but he’s given up today— and then the bedsprings creak down again with even more force. The blankets lift, and he crawls in bed behind her. She feels him settle in a curve around her, cupping her body with his, and he drapes a careful arm around her midriff. He hesitates; but she hasn’t stiffened, she hasn’t tried to get away, and he takes that as a sign that he can pull her to him tighter.

She’s surprised to feel tears prickling at the corners of her eyes, surprised at how much she likes this, surprised at how a long-hidden craving she’d had for so long (while he was gone, while he wasn’t near her) at last feels sated now that he’s holding her. And finally, in the warmth of his arms, even as she still feels her chest bound with the last strains of anger, she allows herself to fall asleep peacefully for the first time in months.

#Romione FicFest 2020 #Fic Post #Romione #Ron Weasley #Hermione Granger #Submission #Queue Up for the Dragon #Rated T

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rubiesintherough · 3 years

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(( @residualed sent --- answer all of the rough childhood questions for your muse with the most childhood trauma!! ))

( tw’s for trauma, child abuse, child neglect, violence toward children, death, and selfharm mentions )

oh, oof.... okay, here we go. hard to choose, but i think imma go with... melody

does your muse blame themselves for their trauma?

hard to answer, because both yes and no... she realizes that her parents were just pieces of shit who would’ve done all those things to her regardless of how she acted, but --- caused mostly by the fact they kept telling her this directly to her face --- there is a part of her who wonders if she was the one responsible for it... who wonders if, maybe if she’d been quieter, more polite, more obedient, they wouldn’t have hurt her. At least, not to the extent they did.

does your muse suffer with nightmares of their trauma?

sometimes... for her, it usually only happens if she’s already really stressed out or upset when falling asleep, then her brain plucks those traumatic memories up and drops them back in the forefront.

what triggers does your muse have from their childhood?

anyone grabbing her by the chin, no matter their intentions... she will go absolutely feral, resorting to anything, even biting, to get away. Same thing goes for someone grabbing for her hands / arms. Similar reaction, she’ll twist, pinch, scratch, whatever it takes to get them to let go, no matter what intention they had in doing it. Also, the smell of burning or burnt food is a trigger and will immediately make her feel like throwing up. People being angry at her... but, she’ll also go out of her way to push other people’s buttons, because the feeling of being triggered by someone being genuinely furious at her, that adrenaline fear, is a feeling she... likes isn’t a good word for it, but it’s the closest I can think of right now. It’s a rush. It allows her to be angry back. It’s a familiar feeling, no matter how bad it feels overall, it validates her belief that people are awful, that her trauma is real, and it almost gives her permission to let loose and be crueler, ruder, angrier back.

who in their life was most responsible for your muse’s trauma?

her parents. She rarely met anyone outside of them.

has your muse ever been officially diagnosed with ptsd, c-ptsd?

nope. Needless to say, her parents weren’t very invested in looking after their child’s mental health...

what was the worst / most traumatic moment in their childhood?

actually, even will all the others in mind, i’m going to say it was the act of killing her parents. It’s not something she regrets, and she feels it was fully justified... but it was still an extremely traumatic event.

how old was your muse when they realized they had childhood trauma?

probably around 13-14. She didn’t have a word for it, and didn’t fully understand the topic of trauma, but she understood enough to know that her childhood was wrong, and messed up, and that she wasn’t okay because of it.

how does your muse react to being triggered? ( disassociates, becomes angry, etc. )

anger. Anger is protective. Snapping at other people, driving them away from her, physically lashing out so people keep their distance... it keeps everyone away from her. And, if they’re away from her, they can’t hurt her. She does also disassociate, but this only tends to happen in moments when she is badly triggered... but, instead of what some disassociation looks like, she doesn’t go quiet, or mentally drift / get a thousand yard stare, she just gets shaky... really shaky, like she’s freezing to death due to how adrenaline hits her. It’s the same thing that happens when she has a panic attack.

what coping methods ( healthy or unhealthy ) did your muse learn during their childhood?

see above. Anger is the one she uses most. It’s definitely not healthy in the way she uses it, though... but she doesn’t know any other way. She will also use physical pain to cope: smashing her hand into a wall, for instance. And she will destroy things around her to get the anger out, which is especially dangerous, considering the power she has. She won’t just throw things. She will light things up, has destroyed entire concrete columns with a flare of electricity when at her angriest... definitely unhealthy but, again, she doesn’t know any healthy ones.

does your muse want their abuser(s) to face consequences? Or would they rather forget any of it happened?

they already did. She made sure of it.

was there anyone who was a shining light for your muse? Ie. was there any adult who they could genuinely rely on / trust?

unfortunately, no. She was rarely allowed to even leave the house aside from school and occasionally visiting her friends’ houses, but that was few and far between. And there was no one in either instance that she trusted enough to tell... especially because her parents had told her, repeatedly, that if she told anyone, they would find out and it wouldn’t end well for her. Of course, there were teachers or other parents who asked about visible bruises, but Melody explained them away by saying she’d been helping with yardwork, etc. And no one cared enough to look further into it.

#abuse tw #child abuse tw #ptsd tw #trauma tw #death tw #selfharm tw #so many of my muses have childhood trauma and they're all really bad in their own way #but i think i have the least amount of deep diving for her #info ( melody )#(( ooc. ))

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metallic-roses · 4 years

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Everything for You

(For this one I’m going to assume that Plumbeline is in her mid twenties during the recent events in Crown of Candy, and was around five when the Ravening War ended)

My dress drags on the stairs behind me as I walk down the stairs, my slippers silencing my feet on the marble. The manor is cold today, colder than usual, and I wrap my arms around myself.

My great grandmother’s old, creaky voice echoes through the foyer “Blienne, come here.” She summons and I obey.

“Coming Granmumma,” I reply, reminding myself not to run or rush.

Mother always tells me to be respectful, but elegant. To leap down the stairs, tripping over the skirt of the flowing dress I’m wearing, would most likely be the least elegant thing imaginable.

I enter the family room to see my great grandmother sitting on one of the couches, green hair in wild waves Mother would never allow one of the other family members to wear.

I perch myself on an armchair across from her “Good afternoon Granmumma.” I greet, and when she doesn’t respond I continue speaking “Oh, have you seen that beautiful comb that Father brought from the Meat Lands for me? I’ve been looking for it, I’d like to bring it-”

“The comb isn’t important.” Granmumma interrupts, green eyes distant “You should know that.”

I force a polite laugh. I think I know where this conversation is going “Well, not really, but I’d still like to have it. It’s the non-essential things that make life worth living, at least in my eyes.”

Granmumma’s hand snaps out to grasp mine, faster than I thought she was capable “The comb isn’t important, Blienne. Not to you and I. House Corymbos possesses the last of Fructera’s magic, you cannot continue to let your gift fade.”

“Granmumma you know we’re not supposed to talk about that-” I rush, but don’t pull my hand away. I don’t know why.

Granmumma waves her free hand and a coffee table lifts into the air. My words fade.

She turns back to me, eyes warm “Try, Blienne.” My great grandmother urges. I hesitate and Granmumma continues “I know you have the gift. As much as you deny it, as much as my granddaughter denies it. I know I shouldn’t have waited so long to push you.”

And I listen.

There’s always been that quiet song of magic in my blood. Ever since I was a child. I’ve been good at ignoring it for years.

But for the first time, I yield to that song. Let it envelop me, let myself fall into the magic.

Frozen smoothie begins to spread from me through the room, soft and slow. I stare at sight, watching the pastel pink spread through the room, glittering in the light. I reach down to the floor and brush my fingers over the new surface, ignoring the cold biting through my hand.

“It’s incredible,” I breath, a smile spreading across my face.

A harsh, angry voice cuts through the room “What the hell are you doing?!” Mother yells, storming through. The frozen smoothie cracks and shatters, fading into nothing in seconds.

Dread creeps through me. I never should have done this, never should have entertained Granmumma. This is the opposite of what I’m supposed to do.

Mother turns on Granmumma “She’s leaving for Comida tomorrow! She’s going to be the youngest handmaiden to the Bulb-damned princess of Fructera, the daughter of the Concordant Emperor! Do you know how much work I’ve had to do to get Blienne that position? How much training I’ve had to give her to make sure she’ll be able to restore some of the glory to House Corymbos that you lost when you insisted on continuing to support magic, even when the Bulbian Church took power? I will not have you continuing to ruin this family. I will not have you putting my daughter in danger. Besides Brightgarden, Comida is the lion’s den for magic users. She will be hanged for witchcraft!”

Granmumma sits up straight, folding her hands in her lap. She hardly looks fazed “Magic is worth it, granddaughter. We are the last keepers-”

“I’m not listening to this,” Mother says, waving her hand dismissively. Her face is the angriest I’ve ever seen it “Blienne, go to bed. You have a long journey tomorrow.”

I nod, standing and brushing off my skirt “Yes Mother,” I reply and rush off, not looking back.

(Three years later)

I haven’t looked back at magic. Not since that day, not once.

I’ve done what Mother asks of me. Time and time again. I have been what my great grandmother should have been. Obedient and elegant and Bulb-worshipping.

The other handmaidens scoffed at me at first. I was young, part of a disgraced house, and it was clear that every coin my family had left was put into getting me here. I let them scoff. I didn’t retaliate. No matter how much the magic within me begged to.

Two things made it worth it.

The honor I’ve been bringing to my family, to my elder brother and younger siblings, to my parents. The future I’ve been giving them.

And Lady Plumbeline.

I loved her from the moment I saw her and I have continued to love her ever since. The beautiful, quiet, strength and bravery of her. The elegance and skill. The undying ambition and the intelligence and ruthlessness to back it up.

She doesn’t know, of course. One of the many things Mother taught me for court is to hide my emotions expertly. To portray what I want people to see.

It’s been a useful skill in climbing the ranks. It was useful among the other handmaidens, who were surprised to say the least, when I rose to become Plumbeline’s favorite. Her most trusted. And from Plumbeline’s support, I began to build House Corymbos’ reputation back up, brick by brick.

I don’t know what I’ll do if I don’t have Plumbeline’s support, her company anymore.

Because Lady Plumbeline has gotten sick. Deadly sick. None of the healers know what to do. Emperor Uvano has said that it’s a sickness his family has been prone to throughout the years. A one common to die from.

I remember when I heard that it’s likely she’d die. It was hard to keep the mask hiding my emotions on then. My knees went weak, my eyes filled with tears, and my chest tightened impossible. I felt my magic race through my veins, fear and sorrow fueling a surge more powerful than I had ever experienced.

That tightened feeling in my chest hasn’t faded, but gotten sharper as Plumbeline’s condition has worsened. And worsened. Until the possibility of Plumbeline’s death, which looms closer every day, is the only thing I can think about.

It’s the thing keeping me awake tonight.

I curl up on top of my blankets, deep violet curls spread out around my head. As usual these past few weeks, my mind is occupied with racing through every piece of medical information I’ve ever heard. Anything that might save the girl I love.

And then it crashes into me.

Magic.

Not magic I know. I haven’t trained nearly enough to be able to help. But Granmumma told stories of beings of magic, spirits of Fructera.

I reach out my hand, digging inside myself for something. Anything. Any way to summon a creature that could save Plumbeline.

A seed appears in my hand. It’s a small, warm, light brown seed. I pick it up between two fingers, examining the object, trying to contain the hope that’s exploding within me.

The seed cracks open, sending a shock through my hand. I drop the seed on the floor, and before I can reach to pick it up again, a bright green sprout begins to curl up from the seed.

It grows right before my eyes into a creature with wood and bark for a body, leaves for hair, and different types of fruit dangling off of their arms, back, shoulders. It towers above me and I swing my legs off the side of the bed, staring up at the spirit. The Fruit Tree.

“Hello Blienne Corymbos,” The Fruit Tree groans, their voice low and grumbling. I open my mouth to respond but the Fruit Tree instead begins to move, kneeling in front of me and touching a large, rough hand to my chin “You are young for the burden placed upon you. The last magic of a land is no small deal, Blienne Corymbos.”

And then an orange snaps off the Fruit Tree and splatters on the ground. The Fruit Tree stumbles to the side, catching themselves on one hand.

“I am not as strong as I was, Blienne Corymbos.” The Fruit Tree tells me, sorrow clouding their voice. The sorrow seeps into me, adding into the anxiousness and worry. The Fruit Tree seems to sense my change in mood “What do you wish of me?” They ask.

There is no hesitation, not a doubt in my mind “I want you to heal Plumbeline Uvano. I want you to save her.”

The Fruit Tree tilts their head to the side, more fruit falling to the ground and splattering “You love her.” They say. Not a question.

“I do. More than anything.”

The Fruit Tree shrinks an inch. I flinch in shock, but don’t comment on the change. They weren’t exaggerating when they spoke of fading strength.

“There is not a world were you get to live a life with Plumbeline Uvano, Blienne Corymbos.” The Fruit Tree tells me and I feel... numb. I don’t feel anything “Do you still wish to save her?”

I look up at the being, the spirit of something long gone.“I believe she’s going to do good in the world. Plumbeline is worth it.” The Fruit Tree nods slowly, flickering and shrinking again. I scoot forward “What’s happening to you?”

“I am not as strong as I was, Blienne Corymbos.“ The Fruit Tree repeats.

The hope I feel flickers and terror races through my veins “Can you still heal her?”

More fruit falls on the ground. Item by item. Agonizingly slowly.

“I believe I can, Blienne Corymbos. But it will come at a cost.” The Fruit Tree says “My strength alone is not enough to save your love, not since magic has faded from Fructera. I will need yours. Permanently.”

I tilt my head, considering what he means by ‘strength’. And then I know. And even though I’ve been pushing it back all my life, I know I’m losing a piece of myself if I do this.

“You- you want my magic?” I ask and the Fruit Tree nods. “Okay. Okay. I’ll do anything. Just-”

And my magic fades.

Everything is shattering into a million pieces. I can’t see, can’t breath, can’t think. All I feel is aching emptiness. The remaining pieces of me turn to piercing shards, scratching at my insides.

Agony. That’s what I feel. My body fades. My being fades. I’m just an empty shell where a life used to be, where vibrance used to be. It hurts so badly, so so badly.

And then I’m back.

I fall to the ground and curl up, gasping for breath. The Fruit Tree is gone, along with the fruit that fell off of it. But i know that it worked, I can feel it deep within me.

All I can do now is hope that Plumbeline uses this gift wisely.

#ACOC #A Crown of Candy #Fanfic #Dimension 20 #OC #D20

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acioo · 5 years

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( PART THREE HERE ) & ( PART ONE HERE ) here are NINE MORE CHARACTER BASES ( label & background & personality ), all of whom i have played out in the past. they expand beyond ‘ the fuck boy ‘ and ‘ the arrogant rich kid ‘ because i think as a community we’re all tired of the cliche bull, so have some of my most fun & most subversive times. these are for inspiration purposes as well as admin purposes. if you are going to use these in an rph setting, i request credit, but otherwise, it’s not necessary. ( all details viable to change ; pinterest board links available for all of them - if you are interested in my characters, see my muse page ) TW : violence, alc, drugs, ( parental ) emotional neglect, death, blood, homelessness, police

001. THE WITCH — you are in the second generation of witchy women in your family. you’re not meant to misuse, you’re meant to give back, your mother tells you. nature loves you but nature holds grudges, your mother tells you. you are not you but we, your mother tells you. you will not heed her advice. age six, you learn how to make the tea boil in seconds just by whistling, even if you know that it’s not necessary. age ten, you make the kids who say bad words to you trip on their way up the stairs, leaving them with bloody noses and mouthfuls of curses. age sixteen, you fall in love with a girl who loves you like she’s going to lose you, who makes you forget why your parents crossed continents and why your blood sings a song of violence and why you stand unflinching in the eye of loss. you and your friends get into bad things when you start to get old enough for people to notice you. their eyes always go to you first. you and your dark eyes. you and the furrow in your brow. you and your lesson in awakening. you adopt another stray emotionally compromised teenager into your friend group and she tells you breathlessly, reverently that you’re the most beautiful person she’s ever seen. and it makes you mad, but maybe not at her, because you can recognize the good and bad people like a lie detector that’s seen too much and knows in details what a long night is because they’re all you have. you’re powerful in a way that they don’t seem to understand and maybe, you will take a lesson your mother. you’re powerful and you won’t let them see.

002. THE PROM QUEEN — the oldest by eleven minutes, you grow up trying to be everything your little siblings need. your parents are twisted but you learn to see them through rose-colored glasses instead of living in pain. when your siblings fall, you feel it, too, and when they cry, you cry too. it’s too much responsibility. your parents feed and clothe them, but you hold their mental health in your hands and the truth is you’re no better. you just got so good at hiding behind your mask that you can’t seem to tell the difference between you and party favor anymore, and the fact of the matter is that while they’re quiet and just so different in a way that your parents feared they would be, you blend in like a chameleon. you’re class president and prom royal. that’s the way it’s always been. but all the makeup in the world can’t hide the fact that you’re no better. the older you get, the more they can see. your grandmother, first. then your little sister’s best friend. your first love. everything you try to hide sits in your lap and you try to wrestle it into submission and sometimes it wins. they know you but you don’t. your eyes flash golden sometimes when you’re mad enough that you remember that you’re the one who put the burn stains on the wood floors of your family’s old penthouse, but you’re more human than anyone can ever even imagine.

003. THE UNAPOLOGETIC SLOTH — you’re the small-town preacher’s child who comes out with a slam when you turn ten years old. you’re burning your clothes in the basement when your mother comes home from book club. you’re looking for a way out, but all she wants to know is if you want to do it in the expensive fire pit outside instead. they call you their golden child but no one else shares the sentiment. you’re lucky that your group of friends ( they don’t look like you exactly or act like you exactly, but you all know what it’s like to feel like you’re alone in the world, or you did until you met them ) likes the way you bite back even if your grandmother doesn’t and neither does she come over for christmas dinner anymore and it tears you up inside until you bleed an angry and violent storm and trail curses ( against anyone, against god, if there is a god at all, if you even believe in a god at all ) down the creaky wood stairs from your room all the way into you mom’s lexus. you’ll come back but for now, you are a tempest and you are only beautiful when you’re burning. you’re not the type to bend yourself out of shape for people who won’t look back at you. you’re happy with yourself in a way that most people wish they could be, most people who spend nights drinking or turning in bed or smiling. you’re happy because you couldn’t care less.

004. THE PYROMANIAC — the child of two famous superheroes, you’re the picturesque image of your mother. you only have your father’s mutant blue eyes and you think that you’ll curse your mother with unhappiness for it until she gives up on you like you want her to. you hate her for her giving you everything you have. your powers, your hair, your two good hands. you love your father more than you love anything. it starts when you’re still little. lying about your powers, saying you have your fathers. your parents can’t stop it. the therapists certainly can’t stop it. not even your classmates' jeers can. the fires start in your teens around the time you start sneaking out at night. your mother with her kind eyes ( not yours, which are an icy and violent storm that everyone needs to seek cover from ) and tired crinkle in her forehead, who loves you even if the only time she gets your affection is at the request of your father, asks you about it and you don’t answer, look at her with contempt and a scoff. she knows the answer anyway. you’re the angriest kid she knows and they all wonder where you got it from as you project the worst pieces of your parents. your father's arrogance. your mother’s envy. by the time you turn eighteen, you’ve been arrested six times ( your party stories are to die for ; arson & assault & arson & underage drinking & arson & disorderly conduct ). you’re so hilarious, so famous, that they like to forget that you are also lethal.

005. THE PRINCELY POLYMATH — you don’t grow up as a person. the only child of one of the richest men the world may yet see, you come out of nowhere. bright hair and brighter eyes, you look and act nothing like your father. it takes you many years to find out that the only reason you’re surrounded by people is that they want something from you. the anxiety develops around the same time. coils into you and holds you tight. you cover it up poorly with anger and insult. it’s a bad look on you and it makes you bite your tongue hard enough to draw blood but it’s better than the alternative. you’re still going to get followed around. you’re still going to have callers. because you’re attractive and you’re devastating and you’re one of the brightest minds they’ve ever seen. you try not to let your father find out that under that mop of blonde curls lies a brain that can’t be matched, but he does when the maid returns from your room with empty vodka bottles and books on aeronautics and too-tiny baggies and sketches of architecture. your iq test makes the news, but you just wanted something of your own. your new school is just as fancy, but now you don’t have to hide the fact that you’re bored and unchallenged. when you’re fourteen, your starlet mother, who your father never forgave you for resembling, will overdose on pills in a bathroom in ibiza as you take the sats. you’re not allowed to be sad. you haven’t seen her since your fifth birthday. there’s nothing for you here. you wonder when there will be.

006. THE BEST OF THEM ALL — for as long as you can remember, you’ve been the nicest kid anyone has ever known. a candy-sweet smile and you really mean it, too. people marvel at the way you carry yourself and the hpw you can speak to people, but they’re always looking over your shoulder for your brighter, more reckless friends. you’re in the instagram posts but you’re no one’s first choice, and it’s okay because you’re used to it. you’re still going to be there when they fall down and cut themselves on the sharp edges of others that you told them with a wavering voice to watch out for. you keep a shovel in your trunk and your ringer on. because you’re that good. you won’t survive this kind of disregard but you think you’ve known this from the start. you’re not the protagonist in this story, but maybe you should be. people like to hear about warzones and long nights with longer bottles but the fact of the matter is that you’re not the kind of kid. you’re warm hands and a down looked smile. you won’t stand on the edge of the mountain but you’re happy to use your first aid kit to patch up anyone who does.

007. THE ACTIVIST — your mother never wants to be a mother and your father isn’t the kind of man she’d trust with her heart, let alone you with your chubby hands and big eyes. giving you up is the right thing to do. you run away from foster homes left and right. eventually, they stop looking for you, and you move from state to state, a rolling stone of your own. you find a person of your own. you call them your twin, but the facts don’t line up in a way you won’t realize for a very long time. eventually, you find your place with a microphone in hand and a shoebox under your feet. you care about everyone but yourself and you’re pretty okay with that. you’re a survivor, you always have been. when you’re fifteen, the peaceful protest you organized gets interrupted by local police who ask for a permit that’s not there. the noise ruptures your eardrum ; the crowd, the riot guns, the yelling. you never get back all your hearing but it won’t stop you. you’d never let that happen. you keep going, just different and with the help of friends. when you’re sixteen, you’re moving through a crowd, doc martens ahead of you when you stumble into a strong chest. an older man with a kind smile. when he offers to walk you home, asks if you’re parents know where you are this time of day, you laugh, but he’s serious. ( you’ve never met someone kind over the age of twenty. ) he adopts you in the spring and your platform is larger now, but you’re still the same old kid with fire in their heart and no chip on your straight shoulders. that’s the year you track down your biological mother. she’s apologetic and kind, but honest with you and you forgive her. she thought she was doing what was best for you and you think, despite the grim, and the scares, and the bad parts, that she did. you grow up, move from smartphones to tv screens to podcasts. you make a difference.

008. THE PSYCHIC’S DAUGHTER — you’re never going to be your sister, and eventually, you’ll be able to live with this fact. she’ll know of a father, a man who has dark hair and dark eyes and a dark heart, but you left him breathless and unhappy because he, like you, is a fighter. the worst person you know has your last name and your lips. your mother. she is what someone would call a powerful woman. she opens up a business of psychic women, trademarked under your last name, and you know it’s going to haunt you until the day you die. you know they have no power. you know they’re a trick of the light or a flick of a card or a bag of sequins. they teach you one thing. if you say anything with enough confidence, someone will believe you. you don’t know why you never say anything, but you don’t. you won’t. you will never reveal their secret. it’s not yours to tell. when you’re sixteen, following after your sister with big puppy dog eyes as she speaks gold and weaves silk with her steps, she will beat a girl half to death on the football field. she never tells you why and it seals the fate between you, but the truth is that you’d never be able to forgive yourself if she told you. ( she did it for you. the unloved child people whisper about under the bleachers. the psychic's youngest. you’ll curse them, they say. ) you are not your sister and you’re certainly not your mother. you’re dramatic, earnestly so, not with an outreached hand but with an open heart. and you may never recover from spending your days in the dark house at the end of the block, but it won’t hurt to try.

009. THE BACKGROUND CHARACTER — your small town chokes you from a young age. you grow up as one of the cool ones in that big squad of pretty, rich kids that everyone wants to be apart of, but you never asked for entry. your mother’s a bird who breathes down your neck, pecks at you for answers that she will never get because you’re too stunted, too angry to really be the child she’d always dreamed of having, and you find that kind of funny because you’re a lab baby that cost more than her car. you’ll try for her, but not for anyone else. they know that your ‘we’ll see‘s and your ‘maybe‘s are really just your fun way of saying you don’t want to hang out. you’ll try for her because she gave you everything you have ever had, but all they give you is migraines. too loud and too inconsiderate, you think. you’re a harsh judge on people, but they know what they bought into when they invested your sour apple self. you watch from the windows and that’s how you’ve always liked it. you’re safe there. they can’t hurt you. you’ll sleep with one every other month, or attend a party or two, but you’re too fast and too much of a whim for them to even know you before you’re gone.

#rph #rpt #rpc #rpa #resources #masterlist #admin help #writing #mine: char bases

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cynicalrainbows · 4 years

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Possibly the sappiest thing I have ever written.

Based off an idea @upsettimyspagetthi and @moan-jeutas had, about an AU in which Bessie is fostered by Aragon and Hyde features as a stuffed animal (and Maria features as Aragon’s pet cat).

Honestly, content warning again for how incredibly bad this fic is; there is like no plot.

She’s never been one to cry easily. It’s not out of toughness- tears just don’t come easily to her, even when they should, even when she can TELL someone is getting frustrated with her refusal to just react like a normal kid fergodsake, even when she knows that it’s what they want. Whether they’re someone looking for tears of contrition, or of forgiveness or (and these are the worst, these are the ones who get angriest when she remains sullen and dry-eyed, ironically) the ones who want her to cry as a sign that she’s finally opening up…..they all go disappointed.

Except now she’s crying for real, her throat hurts and her head hurts and her face stings from the salt and she can’t stop and it’s for such a stupid reason too, that’s what makes it even worse.

She never forgets to shut her bedroom door usually- it figures that the one time she gets careless is the one time that Maria actually bothers to drag herself upstairs, the one time that her animal-huntress-instincts seem to have gotten the better of her usual sleepy-lap-cat self.

Whether she was playing at being a leopard or whether this is her cat-way of telling Bessie she isn’t welcome in what used to be just Catalina’s flat…..well, it doesn’t matter.

Hyde is just as shredded either way.

(The fact that she still thinks of her as Hyde- the fact that she’s still thinking of this pile-of-fur-and-stuffing as her at all- is ridiculous and she knows it. Why can’t she just grow up?)

If she was a proper person, she’d just shrug it off, she knows. Move on. Get a snack, watch tv.

Even if she was still a bit sad about it- well that wouldn’t be unreasonable. But she’d still be able to get things in perspective, to reflect that a shredded soft toy arguably a very, very light price to pay for the fact that she now gets to live with someone who doesn’t say her name as if they’re trying it out for size, who doesn’t coach everything in false smiles, who actually remembers things like her hatered of tomoatoes and her preference for burnt toast, who asks her opinion as if it matters.

She is grateful for these things- she is, she is- but obviously she isn’t grateful enough because she can’t stop the sick emptiness inside, she can’t push away the sudden feeling of being very, very alone and very very small.

She can’t rationalise and she can’t reason, she can’t even clear up the mess of fabric from her usually scrupulously clean carpet. Instead she just sits puddled on the carpet and holds a piece of Hyde’s fur to her face and sobs the way she’s seen kids cry on their first day as a Kid In The System.

It’s ridiculous. She’s ridiculous.

(No wonder nobody ever wanted her until now.)

She can’t bring herself to throw the pieces of Hyde away but she can’t leave the mess either so she nudges them under her bed.

That’s all she can do for now.

When Catalina comes home from work, she’s gotten as far as dragging herself down to the living room (no one likes a reclusive teenager, she knows that already, so she does her best not to be one) and she’s washed her face in water cold enough that most of the redness has gone from her cheeks. She makes a decent attempt at sounding normal (she thinks).

Clearly though, she isn’t doing a good enough job: she’s just thinking she’s gotten away without Catalina picking up on anything amiss when Catalina takes the last of the freshly-dried dishes from her hands and asks her if she’s ok.

She freezes.

She’s already prepared some answers (Fine. Tired. Homework.) but they fly from her head for a moment and she just stares at the woman, not saying anything.

Catalina is one of the more patient ones (she’s stopped- just about- being scared that Catalina will get cross at her not answering fast enough) but annoyingly, she’s also one of the more persistent ones.

‘Bessie? Are you ok?’

‘Fine.’

Her mouth is dry and she’s angry at herself. Here she is- at the best placement she’s ever had- and she’s ruining it, just as she always does. Sometimes it’s her moods and sometimes it’s her nightmares and sometimes it’s just her being a bit too weird.

‘You look so worried, querida.’

She hates the concern in Catalina’s face. If Catalina knew that she was moping over a stupid stuffed animal…. The thought makes her feel a bit sick.

‘I’m okay. Tired.’

She hates the thought of Catalina looking at her in that way they all have- half pitying, half mocking (‘Don’t you think you’re a bit old to be so childish, Elizabeth?’ ‘Don’t you think you should grow up a bit?’), which soon resolves itself into weary resignation (‘Of course, they’re all like this really- they all have these issues-’).

She’s determined not to drive Catalina away like she has done everyone else- she can be normal, she can be adjusted, she can- but even as she’s thinking it, something in Catalina’s voice, in the warmth of her hand on her arm (not gripping her, not pulling her, just….there) makes her have to blink hard and bite her lip.

‘Bessie- please talk to me, what is it?’

She shakes her head. She can taste blood.

Why is she like this? Why is she so pathetic?

Catalina still doesn’t look annoyed though- she doesn’t look as if she’s getting tired of trying, as if she’s edging into one of those ‘I don’t know why I even bother-’ sighs. Instead, she just wraps an arm around Bessie’s shaking shoulders and walks her into the living room.

‘Just one of those days?’

It’s a question she can answer by nodding (it’s an answer that will hopefully cut off the possibility for more) so she nods once and allows Catalina to gently pull her down to sit on the sofa.

‘You poor thing.’ She finds the tv remote and flips through the channels. ‘In that case, I reccomend a cup of hot chocolate. And some poor quality television.’

There’s a pause, and she feels Catalina draw back the tiniest bit, the way she always does, giving her an out, giving her the chance to escape if she wants to. ‘Of course, if you would prefer some space, that is also completely alright, ok? I could bring you a drink up to your room if you’d like?’

(It’s funny- she’s the only one Bessie has ever known to remind her so often that she doesn’t have to stay, that she’s free to go, that she can choose what to do. Funny too that it’s these reminders that she can leave that actually make her want to stay, more than any number of requests to ‘Come sit with us!’ ‘Come join in!’ ever have done. She knows it makes no sense.)

Part of her wants to go back to her room, where she can fall apart in peace and without fear of Catalina seeing….but then she knows if she does go back to her room, she’ll just be faced with having to throw Hyde away properly. So she stays.

She ends up tucked under Catalina’s arm, silent tears dripping silently down her face and soaking into Catalina’s shirt, while a host of women argue over wedding dresses on the screen.

They don’t talk, other than Catalina occasionally murmuring assent or disagreement over the choice of one bride or another.

‘Ooh...bad choice, mija….. She thinks that lace is good idea?’

(When Bessie first came to live with her, she had assumed that Catalina had been watching the reality tv shows in an attempt to bond with her, and that her commentary was the forced, awkward attempt of an adult to connect to a nearly-teenager. She’d hated it.

Now though, she knows that Catalina will watch the program with or without her, and that her commentary, likewise, will go ahead whether or not Bessie or even Maria is there to hear it, and it’s oddly soothing, as background noise goes.)

Every so often, Catalina will hand her a tissue from the coffee table, or tighten her hold on her, or press a light kiss to the top of her head, but she doesn’t press for answers or intimacy and Bessie is grateful.

Still though, not grateful enough- because she’s still just….sad.

She wonders if this is how people feel when people they love leave- she knows it’s awful of her to think it, to compare the two things…..but still. (Hyde at least has been constant. Hyde has never shouted at her, hit her, locked her into or out of a room. Hyde has never lied to her, broken a promise or feigned anything. Obviously, her capacity to do any of those things is somewhat limited, due to her not actually being real but…...still. Hyde at least has never left her.)

After a couple of episodes, Catalina suddenly remembers she needs to put a load of laundry on and excuses herself (‘I’ll be right back, querida; I’ll make the hot chocolate after I’ve put it on-’) and…..Bessie waits.

And waits.

And when she realises that Catalina has been gone for far, far longer than it would take someone to put a load of laundry on, she feels- after the familiar first sudden sick sinking feeling- a distinct lack of surprise.

Of course she got tired of her.

(They all do, in the end.)

She wonders if the drawing away will happen all at once (like it does sometimes) or if it will be more slow (like it is othertimes).

She doesn’t know.

But it is coming- she knows that much.

And now she doesn’t even have Hyde.

On screen, a woman jumps up and down, her face red, arms waving. Bessie can’t even tell if she’s meant to be pleased or not.

Catalina does not come back.

After a while, she wonders if she should go to bed- it’s getting late after all.

The hall is dark upstairs- no light under Catalina’s door, maybe she’s already asleep (making it her first night in Catalina’s home without being wished sweet dreams)- but lightness from her own room.

Which is funny because she’s sure she turned the light off….

Catalina is sat on the edge of her bed, and she jumps, guiltily, when Bessie enters.

‘Oh! Querida, you startled me-’

Oh god.

Bessie has had people go through her stuff before but the fact that it’s happening so fast….it just hits her hard.

Was her mood really so noticeably bad that Catalina thinks she’s hiding something?

She wouldn’t be the first to suppose drugs or boys or boys-with-drugs….and she wouldn't be the first to go actively searching for evidence….. Bessie’s stomach clenches into a tight fist.

‘I’m sorry-’

‘-I think we need to have a talk-’

They speak almost at exactly the same time but she knows what she’s heard- she’s heard the same words before out of the mouths of so many people. She knows what’s to come. She just hopes she can keep herself together throughout it- it’s always been so much harder when she breaks too quickly, there’s something vaguely repulsive about being begged for another chance, she knows (and it never changed their minds).

(She won’t beg.)

‘Ok.’

‘Sit down.’

She sits.

‘Querida...there’s no easy way to say this…’ She bites her lip in anticipation, steels herself.

‘And I’m so sorry it’s come to this-’

Here it comes: ‘Just not working out….better for us all….fresh start…..’

‘-but I must have completely forgotten to shut your door this morning-’

Ok. This is not what she expected.

‘-and Maria…. Well, decided to take against your things, for some reason-’

Catalina takes a breath and takes what she had been holding from where she’d pushed it under Bessie’s pillow.

Not her diary after all, like she’d assumed.

Hyde.

But not Hyde as she’d last seen her- she looks the same as always, as if nothing has happened at all.

‘I’m so sorry querida- I thought I’d have finished before you came up, when I first found her but I lost track of time….’

She grabs Hyde from Catalina’s unresisting hands and studies her: up close she can see the lines of tiny stitches, she can see where the scraps of fur have been patched together and patiently, bit by bit, restuffed.

There are still a couple of seams left to do but- there’s no doubt about it- she’s pretty much finished.

‘You- fixed her-’

‘I tried to- I’m so sorry, I don’t know what got into Maria to make her go so wild-’

Catalina looks so apologetic and it’s just….strange to see.

She’d have expected a brush off, perhaps a scolding for being careless enough to leave her door open, perhaps a chiding for being childish enough to even care since she’s nearly a teenager, she’s nearly an adult, or close enough-

The idea of Catalina frantically sewing in order to fix a stupid stuffed animal- even trying to do it quickly like it was a big priority, something important- makes her throat feel tight all over again.

‘I’m sorry I couldn’t do a better job of it darling-’

Catalina’s words barely register- she holds Hyde against her face and tries to breathe normally: she’s slightly lumpier than usual but she still smells the same and oh god, the sudden lifting of the darkness that had settled upon her is enough to make her feel limp with relief.

She leans against Catalina’s shoulder and sighs shakily.

‘I’m- you-’ She can’t find the words for what she wants to say- she can’t express it all properly and she isn’t even sure that she wants to- but she grips Catalina’s arm fiercely and clutches Hyde against her chest with her free hand. ‘You fixed her-’

She feels almost dizzy- as if she’s just felt too much in the last few hours. It’s exhausting- and she can’t explain that either, not to Catalina (who she is sure is probably wondering why Bessie hasn’t even said a proper thank you, is probably secretly still thinking she’s too old to make such a fuss over something so silly, is probably thinking twice about- It’s an effort to shut down the spiral but she does, just about. Catalina’s warm, solid presence next to her helps.

‘Of course.’ She says it so easily, but not as if she’s upset with Bessie for doubting her. ‘I promise, I’ll always try to help if I can. With anything.’

It’s a promise she’s heard a variation of many times before….but never when accompanied with actual sewn-together proof of the truth of the words.

She can’t explain that either, why it means so much to hear it now, why it’s making her cry all over again as if she hasn’t already been pathetic enough for one day….but perhaps Catalina understands a little bit anyway: her other arm goes around Bessie’s shoulders, her hand gently rubs circles against her forearm.

‘Ok. It’s ok. Everything is alright, sweetheart.’

Catalina sounds so very sure; Bessie lets her eyes drift shut for a moment, focusing on her voice, on her touch.

‘Everything is alright.’

Perhaps it will be, after all.

#sixfic #six the musical #six the musical fanfiction #six fanfiction

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realityhelixcreates · 4 years

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Lasabrjotr Chapter 53: Cleanup

Chapters: 53/? Fandom: Thor (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: Teen And Up Warnings: none Relationships: Loki x Reader (Getting There) Characters: Loki (Marvel), Additional Tags: Post-Endgame: Best Possible Ending (Canon-Divergent), Keep Walkin, Nothing To See Here,

Aftermath and looking forward. A small confession

The next few days were spent out among the camps, helping to organize their rebuilding. You had to write down who lost their tents to the fires, what belongings needed to be replaced, and who was sharing their tents with whom. The Icelandic authorities had come in force-probably every cop and emergency serviceperson on the island-to oust the militant camp. Large portions of it had been found empty, which was concerning, but those remaining mostly went peacefully. Either they felt they had accomplished what they had come to do, or they realized that they never would.

Whoever owned those empty tents had either escaped into the countryside or the city, or, more worryingly, had slipped in among the other camps, and were hiding there.

There were a total of five bodies that needed to be transported to Akureyri for storage, so that their families could be notified. Three militants, one protester, and one believer. That was not counting the two who had vaporized. Nobody seemed able to identify who they had been.

As you logged everything, you also recorded names, and thus found out about a number of missing persons. Several people from the protester's and believer's camps had fled in the attacks, and not yet returned. Fritjof was still missing and Sofie's friend, Savane, was adamant that he would not have run away from the battle.

The protesters camp was coming apart. Many people just quietly packed up their things and left, much like the unsavory elements of Trolekaerhalla had done months before. Several others had asked to join the believer's camp, and their leaders had convened for a quick Thing to discuss the subject. Eventually, they agreed, with some conditions: while no one absolutely had to worship the gods, they did have to hold a certain respect for them and Asgard. No more angry signs, no more blame. A curiosity about Asgard, and the will to learn was all that was required.

The remainder of the protester's camp consolidated, re-pitching their tents in a tight circle and refusing to discuss anything further with you.

Trolekaerhalla was just itching to get started on their longhouses, each person trying to decide what they could offer to the construction, looking up how to make this and that, getting in touch with people who knew more about how to build such things.

There were going to be six to start with, arranged in rows, with room to move or store things between them. People who preferred their tents could set them up in the alleys the houses created, which would shield the tents from some bad weather, and allow the inhabitants to easily get inside, if things got too harsh outside. There were plans being made to create areas of outdoor worship, little shrines to each god, called hörgr, and a large building for indoor worship as well. Sofie told you that it would be based on a probably mythical temple that was supposed to have existed in Uppsala, Sweden, but now was only remembered in the writings of people who described it after it was destroyed.

She said the grand temple was supposedly wrapped in gold chains, but that they would probably just carve chain patterns out of wood or plaster, and paint them. That all the gods would have their little niches and thrones inside, and that they would plant some trees outside, in remembrance of the sacred grove that grew outside the old temple, but that they wouldn't sacrifice any living things there.

“Our ancestors did it to please the gods, and ensure their prosperity for the coming year.” She said. “But the gods have asked nothing of us, and we are already prosperous, so there's just no need for it anymore. It would just be uncivilized now.”

Though it was weirdly exhausting, just taking notes all day, you were strangely excited about building houses. You wanted to stack stones, you wanted to hammer nails, you wanted to cut thatch. You didn't even know for sure what thatch was, but you wanted to!

You were pretty sure Loki would not want you out here, putting together buildings, but he surprised you by not only saying that expected you to do so, but that he would be aiding in the construction himself! Not just supervising, but actually building, with his own two godly hands.

“It will confer a blessing on the building.” He said. “At least, it will seem to. My blessings are...rather fraught, I'm afraid.”

“I think the bragging rights alone would be worth it to them.” You said. “Sofie told me that some of the pagan groups from elsewhere in Scandinavia are pretty jealous. Some of them are gonna be sending official representatives, if they haven't already. But she also tells me that some of those groups are pretty racist, so I think they are bound for disappointment. Serves them right though. Oh, she wants to know if she has permission to film you next time you go out there. She was too nervous to ask.”

Loki thought about it. “Tell her to ask me herself. Only then, may she know my answer.”

“Tough, but fair.” You said, texting Sofie. “When will we start building?”

“Oh, it will be some weeks yet. We need to measure out foundations, how much we need in the way of materials, where we are getting the materials, and how long it will take them to arrive. This is going to be a mostly human endeavor: our builders and the Bifrost are still tied up in the construction of Asgard.

But there are so many humans out there, from so many different backgrounds, and they have so many connections. Some already know where to get the stone and wood, and some even already have building tools being sent to them from home. They are just as impatient to get started as you are, my dear. My, but humans really do love to build, don't they?”

You had resumed your lessons in magic and knifework, though Loki kept it light and still made you check in with Bjarkhild once a day, to make sure your head was okay. You didn't mind; the check ins never lasted long, and it gave you the chance to speak with the injured humans before they were all released. Most of them marveled at the way the machines had healed their burns and broken bones-much more efficiently, now that there was more human data programmed in.

“Let them get their county established, and maybe soon, these things will be all over the world.” You had said, and that made even the angriest of the protesters think.

You had presented to the scholars the leaf you had taken from your most recent shared dream of Titan, and they had placed it next to a vial, containing a tiny amount of the orange dust that had come through the last time- likely scraped from your blankets for study.

You really wanted to get to the bottom of this. What if this dream travel one day took you some place you couldn't survive? You had been safe so far, the blue light that helped you fly had also protected you from freezing on Jotunheim, but who knew if that would last.

Loki seemed as clueless as you on this subject, even though it never happened without him. All he could say for sure was that magic was involved.

Your magic was becoming more precise, though you still hadn't tried to move anything big again, not since the huldra. That had been far too much. However, your skill at moving small things with increased accuracy was coming along great!

So great, in fact, that when Loki had attempted to prank you at dinner by having hot peppers hidden in your food, you had gotten back at him by teleporting the peppers into his own food, and had the immense satisfaction of watching him go nearly purple in the face and pour sweat in front of Brunnhilde and his brother.

The Valkyrie general had, of course, laughed uncontrollably, and declared you a national treasure, and even Loki had congratulated you, once he could speak again.

It turned out that, while both Thor and Loki had an insatiable sweet tooth, neither of them had any tolerance for spicy food, and that opened up plenty of opportunities for mischief. Loki was one day going to fall prey to hot cinnamon candies, though you would save that one until a time when he needed a proper punishment.

Your knifework was still nothing to write home about, though you knew, with all the exercise you did, both with Loki, and with the Valkyries, that your body was getting stronger. Borgliot still taught you, but she didn't flirt anymore. That was fine. You knew she was a good catch, but she did still intimidate you a bit, while Loki didn't so much anymore. Maybe it was because you had seen more sides of him than you had of her. Still, you hoped she would find a nice lady soon.

You took ever more lessons with Saga, learning Asgardian law and language. Lofn still shot you sly little smiles, either because she thought you weren't looking, or because she wanted you to see. You didn't think she was making fun of you anymore, but you also didn't know what else her game might be.

And Loki grew ever softer with you, as the weeks went by, relying more on your emotional support, and trying to offer you the same. Often you found yourself sitting beside him, in front of his fire, discussing little anecdotes from your childhoods, planning out the next day's activities. There were always things he was withholding from you, which you expected from him, but it also seemed like they were very important things. The kind of things one probably should discuss with one's Seidkona, but also the kind of things that shouldn't be forced. You were not a professional therapist, after all, you didn't know how to deal with everything he might be feeling. You could just barely deal with what you were feeling.

And, oh boy, were you feeling.

You lusted after him, and then felt bad about it. He had no idea what you were thinking and feeling about him, and you had abandoned the idea of just coming out and confessing to him after all the trouble with the huldra. That tinged your secret fantasies with a patina of guilt, made the pleasure you felt in his presence just a little dingy. When all you had to touch yourself to was the vivid memory of that horrid 'kiss'-how it had felt so good, but had been under such bad circumstances-you couldn't help but feel conflicted.

You wanted him to replace that memory. You wanted him to just grab you by the shoulders during one of these thickly romantic evenings in front of the fire and kiss you silly. Steal your breath, hold you too hard, leave your lips bruised from overuse, any release for this emotion.

And he had no clue.

You went to bed every night, charged with desire, while he slept blissfully unaware, just a few yards away. It was driving you nuts.

You would keep it on lockdown though. You were an adult, you could handle this.

You could handle it.

*****

Fritjof limped back into camp a week after he had disappeared, bedraggled and shivering, but very alive. He had been welcomed back like a hero, to his very visible shock; his hurts patched up, and his presence celebrated.

Once they'd pried Savane away from him, he'd been brought to the rest of the camp leaders, to explain where he'd been.

“I was kidnapped off the battlefield.” He confirmed. “They tied me up and put me in this small camping trailer, like the ones some tourists use. They drove it to a new place every day. I don't know who they were, but they took things from me. Blood. Hair. Skin. I don't know why. I escaped because one of them was stupid enough to stop for a smoke break too close to the trailer. I had to walk back from Mývatn though. Couldn't use the road.”

Sofie got him another blanket and something hot to eat.

“Frit, once you've rested, you need to present yourself at the gates.” She said. “I believe they want to speak with you.”

He nodded. “Do I have to leave?”

“No, of course not.” She said. “Why would you have to leave?”

“Because,” He called the central fire to his hand, then put it back. “of what I am.”

“Oh, Frit. We don't care what you are. It's who you are that's important.”

“You know that's not true.”

“It is here.” Sofie assured him.

*****

“So he's a mutant?”

“Is that what you call human Aesir?” Loki asked. “Seems strangely disrespectful to some of your people's greatest heroes.”

“What are you talking about?” You asked. The jerk from the camp-Fritjof, you remembered-had presented himself for 'processing', and Loki had decided to question him in person. He seemed much less of a jerk now, much more subdued, though he refused to look directly at you, and spoke only Danish the entire time. Loki claimed that he was ashamed of himself, that he could tell a great change had come over the young man. “I thought mutants were new?”

“New according to whom? It's possible the terminology is new. Certainly, your ancestors probably did not call figures such as Herakles 'mutants', if only because they liked their bones where they were. But you know now that mages have existed on your world for thousands of years. Why not mutants? This is one of the planets where Aesir have been found. Many became legends; you would have heard of a few, I'm sure.”

“Wait does that mean that you, and Thor, and Saga are just mutants?”

“...'Just'?” Loki repeated, looking insulted. “Pray, what is 'just' about me? I am Aesir. You know of my greatness. Your 'mutants' are Aesir as well, and if your species had even a fraction of the religious freedom you claim to, you would be worshiping your native Aesir just like you used to do alongside my father!”

“Woah, woah, geez I'm sorry!” You held your hands up in a conciliatory gesture. “I was just trying to understand. I don't mean the word as an insult.”

“It is reductive.” He insisted. “Neither of us needs to like him, but he is Aesir nevertheless, and when you refer to him in such a way, you also refer to me as such...oh.”

“Epiphany?” You asked.

“Perhaps. Though I wonder why you do not seem to think that you are one of these mutants yourself?”

“Well...because I'm not.”

“You think not?” He grasped your wrist, teasing the mark on your hand with a fingertip. “Yet you wield powers that other humans do not. Does that not set you apart?”

“It does, it's just...Magic is something you learn, isn't it? Mutation is something you're born with.”

“We do not yet know from whence your power springs.”

“Wasn't it from you?” You caught his gaze, while he continued tracing the mark. “I wasn't able to do any of this until I met you. Until this rune.”

“Ah, but I did not lay this mark upon you. Something else inflicted it on the both of us. What that was, exactly, remains a mystery to me. Perhaps it was the Norns, weaving our strings together ever more tightly. Perhaps we truly were meant to come together, and just needed added incentive.”

“Yeah, without either of our consent.” You pointed out.

“True. But the Norns, should they exist, do not ask, they simply act. Think of them as vast consciousnesses, far beyond ours, incomprehensible and impartial. Still, if they brought you and I together, I cannot hate them for whatever else they might have done.”

You blinked in surprise, and he released your wrist, looking away.

“Loki...That's very sweet.”

“I see no reason to pretend to austerity here. It should be clear by now that I...care.” He said, slightly flustered, as if he'd revealed something he hadn't meant to.

But of course he cared. You knew that. He defended you, and protected you, and tried to take care of you and make sure you were happy. He was your friend, whatever else he might be.

“I know, Loki. I do too.”

His embrace was tight this time, heart fluttering fast. Yours worked to match it.

#lasabrjotr #loki x reader #loki (marvel)

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punkscowardschampions · 4 years

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Ava & Nancy

Ava: Has he told you? Nancy: Yeah Ava: How are you holding up? Nancy: better than he is Ava: Not saying much but Ava: that's something Nancy: how are you holding up then? Ava: It's been, a rollercoaster implies that it's in any way on the rails so not that, something as up and down and side to side Ava: tornado, perhaps Ava: but it's far from about me so I'm just here, you know Nancy: I know what you mean Ava: It's more to do with you than me Ava: so, what did he say exactly? Nancy: You know what he's like, just coming out with it Nancy: there's nothing for me to argue with Nancy: maybe if I had a clue then but now Ava: Yeah Ava: but none of us did Ava: I think mum was probably right, even if that's fucked Ava: taking it to the police wouldn't have done anything Nancy: She'd had talked her way out of it, his word against hers and he doesn't come across well when he's upset Ava: Exactly Ava: it's one of those legal grey areas Ava: morally black but you know Ava: can't get charged for that Nancy: I feel like shit, if I hadn't left it wouldn't have been her and none of this would be happening Ava: I know, but you have to try not to think like that Ava: she picked him, really Ava: he was angry and upset, with you, yeah, but Rio too and you know, everyone and everything Ava: but I don't think he would have pursued her, if he were in any state Ava: and she had her problems with you, but I don't think that's solely why she did it either Nancy: I know but he could've used any girl in Chelsea to get back at Rio, it was her because of me, that's all my thoughts keep coming back to Nancy: and no other girl would've used him like that for any reason Ava: We all let each other down Ava: sometimes you have to do what you have to do Ava: and then sometimes bad shit happens because of that Ava: Chloe wouldn't have felt the need to drop this if I weren't with James Ava: we could all just keep on not knowing Nancy: It's not your fault, Av, she hated you cos she hated me first Nancy: it's not like she's heartbroken over James Ava: Still, it wouldn't have happened, you were never going to be dating him Ava: but none of us can live beholden to her and the things she has over us, we shouldn't Ava: at least now, we aren't, she's played all her cards Nancy: Did Buster tell you she's already engaged? Ava: I heard Ava: I looked on Gen's profile and he's like her dad's age Ava: and really stereotypically Italian Nancy: Gross Nancy: I swear to god, she's not a real person Nancy: who does any of this? Ava: I think she does her hardest not to be Ava: fuck everyone else Ava: her parents are just Ava: at a total loss Ava: we say ours are ashamed of us but this is so real Ava: they've had more to do with James than her for years now Nancy: At least he's got their support Ava: I think they're just as scared that they'll lose contact as he is Nancy: Yeah, of course Ava: Did he say if he'd told Ri yet? Nancy: I asked, when I was at my angriest, before I really understood what the circumstances were Nancy: He wouldn't talk about her which either means he has and it didn't go well, or he's still working up to it Ava: She's going to know something is wrong, he can't hide anything from her Ava: and the test takes as long as it takes, I know he was waiting for that but I don't know how Nancy: Right now, I'm selfishly glad that she knows we barely talk so she won't ask me Ava: That's going to be Ava: not fun Ava: never mind how pregnant she is Nancy: Oh god, don't Nancy: I was going to come back for a while but maybe that'll make it worse Nancy: Like he'll think I'm just there to oversee his downfall or something Ava: You don't think that will happen, do you? Nancy: I don't think she'll leave him Nancy: But the old wounds this is gonna open up, even though nobody's disputing he didn't actually consent, when they're still dealing with everything that happened with Venus Nancy: add her hormones in and his way of reacting to literally anything Ava: Fucking hell Ava: you should come back, if you want to though Ava: regardless Nancy: Ri might need me Nancy: not that she'll admit it, obviously Ava: 'course Ava: I don't think it would hurt Nancy: I'm a crap babysitter but I'm a great person to vent at about him so Nancy: if I slag him off enough she'll start leaping to his defence automatically Ava: An evil-good plan Nancy: something good needs to come out of all the evil Ava: We can but try Nancy: Yeah Nancy: I know I need to Ava: Does feel better than doing nothing Ava: only a bit but Ava: still Nancy: I wish there was more I could really do, but it all just feels too late Nancy: inventing a time machine feels very above my capabilities, if I'm honest Nancy: Feel free to tell James I'm here if he ever wants someone to talk to about his monster of an ex Ava: I will Ava: you might have to open a hotline, by the sounds of it Nancy: That'd be a decent earner while I'm back Ava: Time is money, like Nancy: exactly Ava: Wonder what the wedding will be like Nancy: what I remember hearing about hers and James' sounded awful Nancy: but of course this one will have to be more stereotypically Italian Ava: fucked herself on flower girls too Nancy: unless he's got a big family she can insert herself into Ava: Heaven help him Ava: or she's already knocked up, the only way she does it is with a gun to her head and the groom's Nancy: has anyone checked he can speak enough English to know what's going on, like? Ava: I don't know if we've got the welfare team on that Ava: he looks pretty pleased with himself Ava: the pictures would really confirm your homosexuality for you tbh Nancy: Well that's disgusting Ava: If he was the teenaged pool boy, be all over that, obviously Ava: can only hope she's met her match this time Nancy: Even if she hasn't, like you said, there's no more she can do to any of us Nancy: And she'd never get the kids back if she wanted to try that as a last resort Ava: Not putting anything past her obviously Ava: but yeah, I can't see her trying and failing at that any time soon Ava: it's a small mercy Ava: she was no mother Nancy: Imagine having her as yours, oh my god Nancy: it makes me wanna hug mum Ava: Let's not get too crazy Nancy: the urge will have passed by mid-flight, don't worry Ava: Unless you have too many complementaries, of course Nancy: well yeah Ava: No one would blame you on that score Nancy: it doesn't help though Ava: The drink or the lack of blame? Nancy: Both Ava: Yeah Ava: not much in the party mood myself Ava: pity or otherwise Ava: though being forced to 'focus on my schoolwork' like that's remotely important right now is getting me close Nancy: Is there a brochure for the planet mum and dad live on cos I'm really intrigued by it? Ava: They really think they can keep me out of it Ava: Like I'm not the one who did the DNA test, like I'm not the one who got James and Buster to talk Ava: sure, I'll forget about that and write my politics essay, hold on 🙄 Nancy: I'll do your essay as long as you leave enough time for a thorough spell check Ava: You really wanna keep busy, yeah Nancy: Yeah Ava: You are allowed to be angry with him Ava: you know Ava: because he was a victim too doesn't mean you're not allowed to feel that Ava: even if it means you don't direct it at him, you don't have to try and repress it Nancy: I am angry at him, but I'm also so tired of being Ava: Damn genetics Nancy: He can't forgive me for going and I can't keep defending why I had to Nancy: cos he'll never accept that it's not entirely my fault, that I needed him to help me and he wouldn't Ava: He does though Ava: he's told me Ava: like you said, it's too late Nancy: He'll never tell me, so we'll only ever talk when he has good or bad news to give me Ava: Yeah Ava: it's because it doesn't change it Ava: like you said, no time machine Ava: getting him to admit that he wasn't there doesn't change that he wasn't, even if you want to hear it Ava: just like you explaining why you had to leave doesn't mean you stayed Ava: it's all just words, you know Nancy: Then how can we ever? Ava: Maybe you can't Ava: because that isn't a truce Ava: if neither of you is willing to leave your post there is no middle ground Ava: you actually have to be ready and willing to drop defending yourself and blaming each other Ava: and neither of you is, so Ava: that's that Ava: you can't make yourself give it up, clearly Nancy: It's so unfair Nancy: that everything turned out like this Ava: It just is Ava: you have to get to a place where you can just say that's what happened Ava: not attribute why's and who's to it, see it entirely objectively Nancy: maybe if I fly to Tuscany first and murder her Ava: Maybe Ava: you'll still hate yourself though Nancy: Thanks for the reminder Ava: Like you forgot Nancy: my phone alarm is set for hourly bursts of self-loathing, of course Ava: That'll be why you're tired Ava: can't even put that on him, eh Ava: unlucky, like Nancy: I'll have the luck of the Irish and all that good craic to fall back on soon enough, like Ava: 'Course Ava: be a blast Nancy: It always is Ava: It's been a while Ava: things might have changed Nancy: This family would have to catch some kind of break first Ava: Naturally, when I finish this essay, it'll all be worth it Nancy: Just make sure it's worth sticking on the fridge Ava: 'Cos that wouldn't fuck with the aesthetics Nancy: It's no finger-painting, sure Nancy: But if anyone needs the reminder that you're not a toddler it's mum and dad Ava: Really surprising they're not more elated to gain a ready-made grandkid Nancy: If the mother was anyone else, they'd be jumping for joy, no doubt Ava: Unless that mother was me Ava: of course Nancy: James has probably been well and truly scared off Ava: I reckon she's a pretty strong contraceptive Nancy: I'm in no danger but if you put me in a room with her I'd take the pill Ava: 💀 cyanide Nancy: or whichever colour gets you out of the Matrix Nancy: bye babe Ava: Careful Ava: that's what 'woke' lady and minority haters call themselves Ava: don't wanna get in that camp Nancy: is it? Ava: yeah, they're 'red pilled' 'cos they know 'the truth' Ava: the truth that feminism is a lie and all women are evil bitches, like Nancy: Oh great Ava: You accidentally been making loads of enemies over there? Ava: Whoopsie Nancy: I'll say that's the reason now Ava: Go the whole hog and call yourself an incel Ava: when any of the fam asks you how your love life is going Nancy: 😂 Nancy: Don't make me laugh though, my head is killing me Ava: I feel you Ava: the only pills I've been popping are paracetamols Nancy: Nurofen express 💚 Nancy: my actual true love Ava: so rock and roll Ava: shame even by American standards, that's no bitch's name Nancy: Read it in your best impression of the accent if you wanna swoon though, obviously Ava: It clearly does it for you, like Nancy: It's a very diverse place, thank god Ava: Sure babe Ava: the fashion industry is known for it 😏 Nancy: 🙄 Ava: Thanks for not trying to deny it Nancy: I'm not their spokesperson, pros or cons Ava: Not part of the job description of photographer or girlfriend then? Nancy: No Ava: Phew Nancy: Find a way to include it in your Politics essay Ava: Alright, mother Nancy: Never call me that again, please Nancy: if I didn't have a headache before Ava: Yeah, we didn't reckon you'd be next Nancy: Weird that you've discussed it, but okay Ava: The heat needs to be taken off somewhere, like Ava: What about Billie and her fella, do you reckon they'll go for 👶👶? Nancy: No Nancy: they barely see each other at the moment Ava: I won't put my money there then Nancy: You'd be better off keeping it on Buster Ava: I think he's disqualified by default Ava: obviously Ava: don't need no 🔮 Nancy: This one better not be born early cos of the drama Ava: She's getting out of the danger danger zone at least but still Ava: having babies is like what they were born to do Ava: missed those genetics, clearly Nancy: Lord Ava: 😂 You're so squeamish Nancy: I don't like babies, excuse me Ava: I didn't mention anything about the miracle of childbirth even Nancy: thankfully Nancy: cos it's not a miracle, it's a 🤞 & pray for the best kind of situation Nancy: you might tear open or get cut open and you get off lightly if you only 💩 or 🤢 everywhere Ava: 🙄🙄 the dramatics Ava: I've had worse nights out Ava: and I didn't get a cute kid at the end of it so 🤷 Nancy: it's not me that you need to convince so Ava: I don't think I know anyone else so definitely anti-child Nancy: I've got nothing against children, I just don't want any Ava: uhuh Nancy: It's only considered weird cos this family is so obsessed with having as many as possible Ava: Nah, it's not that Nancy: Like I said, reserve the soapbox for someone who wants to hear the pros and cons Ava: Okay Nancy: Okay, I've got loads to finish up before I can leave Ava: 'course you do Ava: I'll let you go then Nancy: I'll talk to you soon Nancy: without time zones to factor in Ava: Cool Ava: no worries Nancy: Let me know if you wanna meet up, who knows where mum and dad will decide to base themselves and when Ava: Regardless, I don't have time to come over there so I won't Nancy: Yeah, exactly Ava: Focus on what you need to do Ava: I was just checking you were okay Nancy: And I wanna check in on you too, so let me know, okay? Nancy: It's the shortest flight ever Ava: Seriously, there's no need Nancy: Alright Ava: Just focus on helping Ri, if that's what you're going to do Nancy: I'll do my best Ava: 👍 Nancy: Later then Ava: Bye Nancy: 🧡 Ava: Is Billie coming over too? Nancy: I don't know Nancy: I'll ask her when she gets home Ava: She should Nancy: I'll do my best with that too Ava: Alright Ava: that's all then Nancy: Okay, bye

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