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thiswaycomessomethingwicked · 3 years

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What do you think Grima and Eomer are most scared of? Apart from being left alone with each other, of course :) I think Eomer is terrified of spiders - he has to ask Eowyn to remove them. Grima's fears are probably grander and more philosophical e.g. non-existence, failure, imperfection. But I bet he's terrified of weird stuff as well - exposed knees, clowns, steep stairs...

Oooooooh I love this question!! (granted I love any and all questions about these two)

[Oh god this got so long, I’m sorry but also not sorry.]

So I mean, it would depend what kind of fear we’re talking about.

In terms of day-to-day fears/things that spook you or creep you out. I think Eomer has a REAL problem with house (mead hall?) centipedes.

‘Too many legs, Grima. They have too many legs. I did not sign up for this.’

Once. when Eomer was like 10, he woke up with a house centipede on his chest and he’s never recovered.

Grima just shoos the critter outside. Eowyn lectures her brother about their importance in the grand ecosystem. Eomer doesn’t care.

Like when Eomer sees a house centipede all the hair on his body stands on end and he feels that cold wash of terror. I mean, if he had to, he could deal with it himself. But he’d be internally screaming the entire time. Stoic externally, of course. He is a brave rider of Rohan! But inside? Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

I think Grima gets creeped out by uncanny valley things. Mostly dolls. I think he assumes 90% of all dolls are cursed. One time his niece left her doll behind and Grima had to lock it in a box and hide it in a storage room and he was still a little convinced that it was going to escape and murder them all. Chucky style.

Eomer: I want to get my sister a doll for the baby she and Faramir are about to have. How about this one?

Grima: W h y would you traumatize a baby like that Eomer? Are you a monster?

Eomer: This .... this is a cute doll. It’s not going to haunt them.

Grima: You don’t know that for certain. Look at those beady eyes. Always watching.

Eomer: Ghosts and draugr are fine but not dolls?

Grima: My undead brother might be a pain in the arse but at least I know what to expect from him. Mostly his trying to eat people. But it’s within the bounds of reason. That fucking doll on the other hand? Who knows what it thinks in the dark hours of the night. Who knows what secrets it holds in its heart.

Eomer: . . .I think I’ll just get the kid a stuffed animal horse.

Grima: Much better.

I also think Grima gets easily spooked by flying insects. Like once he ascertains that the sudden movement within his line of vision isn’t going to hurt him, he’s fine. But his initial reaction is to get up and leave very quickly and let Eomer deal with it. Grima has a strong association between sudden movements and getting punched. Reasonable, really.

Shared thing? I think Eomer and Grima both find teeth to be really creepy.

Eowyn: They’re just bones in your mouth. It’s fine.

Grima: MOUTH BONES??? DON’T CALL THEM THAT.

Eowyn: Mouth! Bones! Mouth! Bones!

Eomer: I hate all of this.

Eowyn: Mouth bonessssss!

Eomer shows up in Osgiliath, hasn’t seen Eowyn in like two years, she gives him a hug and whispers ‘mouth bones’ into his ear just to freak him out. Because they’re loving and caring siblings like that.

Eowyn: My daughter is just starting to get her mouth bones in.

Grima: I refuse to engage with this.

Faramir: Babe, why are you like this??

Eomer: I brought this doll for her.

Eowyn: That is so cursed, I’m surprised Grima let you buy it.

Eomer: I don’t know, I think it’s kind of cute.

Eowyn: hmmmm yeah well you’re sleeping with that thing over there so I don’t know that your judgement can be trusted.

Grima: h e y.

Faramir: What kind of family did I marry into??

Now, for deeper fears.

Eomer is the one who has a deep seated fear of failure. Of not living up to the expectations set on him from a very young age. Both as son of Eomund, who is like local hero 101, and as nephew to the king. Being orphaned at a young age, I suspect he had a lot of pressure placed on him to Be the Man in the Family. To Take Care Of Everyone etc.

And it’s hard being the son of someone who has a bit of a legend around them when they’re alive, let alone when they’re dead and so they become an impossible standard to live up to.

This isn’t to say Eomer is a stick in the mud and doesn’t get up to mischief. This is the man who drops sick burns for a living and can be described as “compulsively truculent”. Like, Eomer at 18 was absolutely a bit of a mad lad. But, there was always this fear and anxiety hanging over him of having to live up to great expectations - most of which he’s placed on himself but he’s not aware of that.

Later, I’ve always headcanon-ed that he does a bit of that daft thing of comparing himself to Aragorn and is like “I’m not living up to the story book legend who rules the neighbouring kingdom” and despairs.

Eowyn: You’re doing fine. And really, Boromir and Arwen run 80% of everything. Aragorn disappears into the mountains at any given moment.

Eomer: But what if I’m somehow failing everything at all times? Have you thought about that? That I’m failing our parents and ruining our father’s legacy and destroying our uncle’s trust in me??

Eowyn: . . . yeah that’s not happening. You’re fine.

Eomer: BUT AM I???

Eowyn awkwardly pats his hand, ‘You’re fine.’ Eomer despairs.

Grima: Can’t do worse than me.

Eowyn: Yeah! You can’t do worse than Grima.

Eomer: That bar is so low it’s underground.

Additional to this, I think Eomer is scared of letting things go - like giving up control in situations. Because he’s got it into his head that so long as he is in control he can keep everyone safe and no one will die (i.e. his sister). And he’s terrified of things heading down the Road of Chaos.

Which like, Eomer, good luck with that. You live in Middle Earth and Grima’s still around being the agent of chaos that he is.

Grima: I’ve had a thought.

Eomer: Oh no. Put it back where you found it.

Grima: Too late, I’ve told Eothain and he thinks it’s great.

Eomer: Gods preserve me.

Eothain: Ok but hear us out --

For Grima - he’s got a long of weird, existential fears. The World Ending being the biggest of them. He’s got a bit of a nihilistic, hopeless streak in him that can get quite philosophical in terms of dread.

But for more personal, grounded fears, I think the main one is that he’s terrified of being seen. Of being vulnerable. Because if people see him/know him, surely they’ll hate him and leave him and that would hurt so, so much. Therefore, if he’s mean to everyone, including himself, then people can’t hurt him because he’s already doing their work for them to himself.

Yet, he’s also afraid of being alone and so desperately wants to love and be loved but doesn’t know how to go about making that happen in a healthy, normal manner. So he self-sabotages. Tells himself things like, “I was not a lovable child, and I’d grown into a deeply unlovable adult. Draw a picture of my soul and it’d be a scribble with fangs.” - Gillian Flynn

This just creates a fucked up freeze/thaw cycle of “I want to fit in and belong somewhere, but if people know me they’ll see what an ugly thing I am, better that they don’t know me, so let me shut them out/be mean to them etc., no one cares for me because I am unworthy of it, this hurts a lot, and I think fitting in and belonging would probably stop it hurting, but if people know me they’ll see what an ugly thing I am, better they don’t ... so on and so forth.”

So yeah. His deep seated fears of being vulnerable + being along make for some twisted thinking and lots of self-sabotaging.

Grima; What is emotional vulnerability?? Never heard of it.

Theoden: You could give it a try, you know.

Grima: No. I refuse.

Grima does that thing that Carrie Fisher talks about: “Of all the violence I have known in my life, I have not known violence like the way I talk to myself.”

Thank you so much for the ask! This was an absolute blast to answer. I loved every minute of it.

I love all Grima and Eomer questions.

<3 <3

#Grima Wormtongue #Eomer #ask #anon #reply #LOTR #lord of the rings #lotr headcanons #Grima is scared of everything except things he should be scared of

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walviemort · 4 years

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hidden blessing (6/?)

Summary: Killian thought the only thing he was left with after Milah’s death was a broken heart and a thirst for vengeance. It’s not until he gets to Storybrooke, after so many years spent in stasis, that he discovers something else: he’s carrying her child. How does this new, tiny blessing change his path? (Canon-divergent from 2x12.)

a/n: I didn’t realize it had been so long since I updated—apologies! Hopefully I haven’t lost you, and hopefully the next one will go up sooner. Dedicated as always to the amazing @sherlockianwhovian <3

“If you must know,” he started, then leaned in closer and lowered his voice to a whisper. “I’m pregnant.”

Emma stared at him for a moment, then scoffed. “Seriously? This is no time for jokes.”

A spark of anger quickly ignited within Killian; he wasn’t sure if that was his normal temper, or the hormones playing a part. “Why the bloody hell would I make something like that up?”

“I don’t know; some weird attempt to lighten the mood.”

“Am I lying?” he snapped back.

She opened her mouth a few times, trying to come up with an equal retort, but he saw the realization of his truth wash over her. She finally came up with, “That’s impossible.”

“Afraid not.”

She blinked in disbelief and looked him up and down, her gaze eventually settling on his midsection. His bump was still mostly hidden by the bulk of his vest, but if one knew to look, they could see the way his stomach curved just above his belt. “Wait, for real?”

If it weren’t for the taste of bile on his tongue, he probably would have found humor in her reaction. As it was, he simply longed for a drag from the waterskin Snow was carrying and his temper was wearing thin. Impulsively, he reached out for her hand and placed the back of it against his stomach, against the spot where its inhabitant was currently moving about—not strongly discernible kicks, not from the outside, but definitely noticeable, especially (hopefully) to someone who had been through this before.

Emma’s eyes grew wide in shocked recognition and she snatched her hand back. “Holy shit; you’re pregnant.”

“Aye; and if you don’t mind, I’d like to wash my mouth out with something other than rum.” And without another word, stepped around Emma to join the rest of the group.

Emma only paused a moment before rushing to catch back up to him. “But...how?” she stammered.

“Well, when a man and woman love each other—”

“I know that,” she cut off. “But like...is that a normal thing in the Enchanted Forest?” She cast a worrying look in the direction of her father.

And as quick as the anger had come, it was replaced with sympathy just as fast; he couldn’t fault Emma’s confusion, when it evidently was an impossibility in her realm. “Not necessarily; it’s rare—only runs in certain families—but it does happen. Obviously.”

He hoped that might be the end of it, not quite wanting that revelation to drop on any unsuspecting ears just yet, but Emma had more questions. And honestly, it felt nice to talk to someone about it, however briefly, and equally nice to have someone take an interest.

“How far along are you?” she continued.

“About sixteen weeks, the doctor says.”

“Does anyone else know?”

“Just Regina.”

“Is she the...mother, or whatever?”

“Heavens no.” Though he could see why she’d think that.

She grew silent for a bit. “You should have told me,” she finally scolded.

“I know,” he agreed.

“I can’t afford to be worried about you, too.”

That honestly took him aback; it had been centuries since anyone had any concern for him. “I’m flattered, love, but you don’t have to; I can take care of myself,” he assured her. Her focus needed to be on Henry—not his sorry arse.

She was about to say something, but David’s voice interrupted. “Up here! We made it!”

They jogged ahead to join the rest of the group at the ridge, which gave an unparalleled view of the island, specifically the Dark Jungle—or at least, it had; it appeared to have grown over quite a bit in Killian’s absence. They heeded his warning on going through it, at least, and agreed to his recommendation to make camp with only minor protest.

He thought sleep would claim him quickly—while he wasn’t as fatigued as he had been weeks ago, he still found himself needing more than in the past; given the excitement of the last day, he knew he needed it. But the island wasn’t quite ready to let him.

The crying—how had he forgotten it?

The sound of the Lost One’s wails echoed in his skull, and if he wasn’t careful, his own would likely join them; it certainly had in the past. Regardless of the number of decades that had passed since his father deserted him and his brother, the cries never failed to bring up the feelings of hurt and abandonment that lay buried within.

But now it wasn’t just for him—gods, what if that happened to his child? For not the first time (and likely not the last), he worried that one or more of his enemies, or even just his penchant for ending up in life-threatening situations, would leave his child parentless.

He rolled from his back to his side, away from the others, and curled in on himself, hoping the fetal position—and feeling of fetal movements under his palm—might calm his thoughts and mind, but it was to no avail. He squeezed his eyes shut in concentration, but all that did was force out the tears that had been brimming at them. It had been many years since he’d silently cried, but as a lad, it had been a lifesaving skill; thank goodness he still remembered how.

Gods, how was no one else reacting to this? Even with the echoing sobs in the foliage, he could still hear the prince’s snores, and the general silence told him everyone else was equally still.

He let his crying jag run its course; he’d need the waterskin again soon, but hopefully he would at least cry himself to sleep. Alas, he did not, and the rhythmic sounds of the others in the camp did nothing to lull him, either.

Sighing, he returned to his back, hoping the stars might give some comfort—but they were invisible through the foliage. He quietly sighed again and let his head fall to the other side, glancing at the rest of the camp. The first thing he saw was a blanket lying in a heap and Emma’s jacket—but no Emma.

He sat bolt upright. He had no doubts she heard the voices, too. He’d known her for a lost girl from the moment he’d locked eyes with her. But why the bloody hell had she gone off alone?

His jacket was on and he was ready to search for her when she returned on her own, a blank sheet of parchment in hand that he could immediately tell was anything but harmless.

It was Pan; of course it was. A shiver went down his spine at the thought of the demon child being close and he not being aware of it.

After rousing the others, she explained: the map would lead them to Henry, but first, she had to stop denying who she really was. Regina scoffed at the idea and questioned its validity, but he set her straight: Pan loved his games, and this is just another they had to play.

(Surprisingly, he had the Charmings on his side. “I’m winning you over; I can feel it,” he teased David; he took the responding roll of eyes as progress.)

Of course, Emma coming to terms with her identity was much easier said than done. It took a certain kind of confidence—and many years—for most people to fully own their selves; for Killian, it had taken a handful of decades to achieve that kind of self-awareness. That was time they didn’t have for Emma.

In her typical impatience, Regina decided a quicker plan: use a tracking spell on the parchment itself to lead to Pan. Again, he found himself in agreement with the Charmings, that using magic was a risk. But Her Majesty wouldn’t hear it, and off they went into the jungle…

...Right into an ambush. He should have known that would happen; alas, the only warning he could give was of the danger hidden in the Lost Boys’ poisoned arrow tips. He said a silent prayer to whoever might be listening that he and his child would manage to avoid that fate; and, to his surprise, a warm wash of magic ran over him—shielding him, it felt like. He caught Regina’s eye from across their circle and she nodded at him. Well, at least she’d done that.

They somehow made it through the altercation relatively unscathed, though David seemed to have had a too-close encounter with an arrow, and Killian really did not want to deal with Felix ever again. Pan repeated his smug instructions to Emma, and then their foes retreated...leaving them no closer to finding Henry.

He took small comfort in the gentle movements he felt within while he subtly rested his hand on his belt on their trek back to camp. They may not have come out ahead, but at least they weren’t behind (he hoped).

He and Regina hung back at the campsite while Emma and her parents continued at the map. His adrenaline from the fight was starting to fade and his interrupted sleep was calling for him—but at the same time, he was too spooked to sleep. Regina’s pacing seemed to suggest the same thing.

“Thank you for the protection,” he said quietly; his voice seemed to startle her from her thoughts, but she recovered quickly.

“No problem. I wasn’t about to risk anything happening to...you know.”

“I appreciate it. But I’d also rather we not find ourselves in that sort of situation again.”

She nodded. “I know; I was hasty. I just...I hate not knowing where he is.”

He stepped closer. “I know I’m not as familiar with your boy, but we’ve all got our motivations to get him back. You need to trust the rest of us.”

She scoffed. “Afraid I’ve never been much of a team player.”

“Well you best figure out how, because not only does your son’s life depend on it, but all of ours—including my child’s, as well.” He turned and stalked away, letting Regina brood while he did much the same.

The sooner they worked together, the sooner they saved the lad and got out of this bloody realm, and his child would be safe again.

It seemed like the Charmings were having a moment, so he stepped aside briefly to deal with another stirring of nausea, then rinsed his mouth out with rum after. He was rather annoyed that he’d likely be dealing with that for the duration of their stay here; all the more reason to find any way to hasten it.

He’d barely returned to the clearing and pocketed his flask when Emma was running towards him. “The map is working! We know where Henry is,” she practically shouted, shoving it in his face.

Sure enough, a map of the island had appeared on the parchment—a deceptively simple one.

Emma stood at his side as he studied it, and Regina was quick to jump on the other. “Where?”

It took him aback, for a moment, that they were both willing to listen to him. “Uh...We're here at the southern tip of the isle, in the middle of the Dark Jungle,” he explained, gesturing with his hook, “and Pan's camp lies due north.” A bright red X marked the spot; but it didn’t detail the dangers that lay between here and there.

“That's where he's keeping Henry,” Emma stated matter-of-factly.

Regina clearly hadn’t taken his previous lecture to heart. “What are we waiting for?”

“Well, the terrain’s not easy,” he warned. “There will undoubtedly be some nasty impediments along the way.” He shot her an annoyed look.

“We should prepare,” David stepped in. “We only made it out of our last encounter because Pan let us. We need a new plan.”

“Agreed. It's time we stop playing his game and he starts playing ours,” Emma concurred.

Regina bristled. “And if I disagree?”

Emma wasn’t having it. “Go ahead, but I think you know our best chance is together.” Again, Killian sent a knowing look in Regina’s direction.

She swallowed bitterly. “You better be right.”

Everyone dispersed to either sulk or plan, but Emma lingered in his space. He hadn’t missed her reddened eyes, or the general sense of emotional exhaustion.

“Excellent show of patience, luv,” he encouraged her. “And that's what defeats a nasty little boy.”

“I hope so,” she confessed. He wished he knew of a better way to comfort her, but he was still on the outside looking in when it came to her walls, and had little more than a crack to peer through. That said, he knew where he usually turned in moments like that, and pulled his flask back out. She rolled her eyes as he did. “Is rum your solution to everything? You shouldn’t even be drinking that.”

“It certainly doesn't hurt. And it’s not for me; it’s for you.” She eyed it briefly in his extended hand, then took it from him and drank a very long swig. It seemed to help; she relaxed a bit—as much as she could, given the situation. Which was good, because his curiosity got the best of him and pregnancy brain meant he had little to no filter. “So just how did you unlock the map?” he asked.

“I did what Pan asked,” she shrugged.

“And just who are you, Swan?”

She smirked and handed the flask back. “Wouldn't you like to know?”

“Perhaps I would,” he confessed solemnly. She’d clearly been expecting flirtation and not blunt honesty, if the way she was taken aback was any indication.

But it was quickly followed by a small smile. “Ask me that again when we get home and I might have an answer for you.”

She then wandered back to her parents, leaving him in an almost stunned silence. The fact that she hadn’t shot him down was not something he had prepared for—but he was far from complaining.

Logically, he knew there were far more important matters at hand than flirting with his crush. But who said he couldn’t do both? (Especially if she was going to be receptive to the idea?)

Intense fluttering started behind his navel again; he rested his palm against it while he was still out of everyone’s sight. “All the more reason for us to fight to get home, eh, little one?” he murmured.

They still had a fight ahead—gods only knew what they’d face—but for the first time, he was feeling optimistic.

(And hopefully, it wasn’t just the hormones talking.

(Emma, meanwhile, was starting to plan and prep with her parents, but was running over that conversation in her mind. He’d been genuine with her—as much as when he confessed his condition to her earlier. Despite his past proclamations, he really knew her about as well as she knew him: not as much as she’d like. That realization was throwing her for a loop; she was in the middle of a cursed jungle trying to rescue her son—why in the hell was she flirting with a pirate? A pregnant one at that?

And why didn’t she regret it one bit?)

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thanks for reading! tagging @cocohook38 @wyntereyez @jennjenn615 @superadam54 @ashley-knightingale @justsomewhump (let me know if you want a tag!)

#cs ff #killian jones ff #mpreg #hidden blessing #My ff

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diyunho · 4 years

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The Joker x Reader - “6 Feet”

With the scary events unfolding lately all over the world, Gotham is under lockdown also. The Joker and his girlfriend are self-quarantining at the Penthouse: needless to say entertaining him it’s no easy chore but thankfully Y/N can handle any type of situation. Probably…

Batsy

You almost drop your coffee mug when you see The Joker dangling outside the railing from the second floor of The Penthouse.

“What are you doing, J??!!!”

“Pumpkin, wanna bet I can land on the couch from here?” he flares one arm in the air.

“It’s too far off, you’ll never make it!” you mentally calculate the trajectory.

“Pfft, bullshit! If Batsy can do crap like this, so can I!”

“You don’t have the gear and training, J!”

“Gear??!! Training??!! I don’t need that; I’m not a wimp!”

“Fine, go ahead and break your neck!” Y/N gives up on the already lost cause. “How much are we betting?”

“50,000 dollars.”

“You got yourself a deal Mister Joker,” you take a sip of coffee, annoyed his desire for chaos is already surging to unspeakable heights after being trapped inside for the last 3 weeks.

The King of Gotham flexes his knees a few times for equilibrium and… here he goes: barely misses the couch, one leg gets caught on the night stand and BAM! Lands on the floor with a loud thud.

“Uugghhhh,” he groans in pain flat on his back. “Y/N… I think I fractured my limbs.”

You slowly approach and ignore his complains, pointing out the truth:

“You owe me 50,000 dollars. And if you fractured your bones, I’m going to strangle you on the spot because there is no way I’m taking care of a stubborn patient!”

The Joker makes an extra effort to react at your ultimatum:

“Excellent news, Princess. I can move my toes!”

You roll your eyes and extend one of your arms to help him up.

“Lucky indeed, J. Are you doing this for attention?”

“Gotta keep the flame going, Pumpkin,” The Clown whizzes up a storm, trying to catch his breath following the glorious bungee jumping without a rope.

Baldy

Supposedly J is in convalescence, thus he wanted a haircut. You are both watching TV in the living room, your boyfriend sitting on a chair while you shape the locks behind him.

You start laughing at the funny movie so your hand slips: the trimmer shaves a patch of The Joker’s fabulous green hair, leaving him with a beautiful quarter sized bald spot.

Oh, shit!

He has no idea his perfect groomed style it’s butchered; better to ride this crazy train until he notices. You comb what you can from the longer strands on top of the mess you created, lying without blinking at his question:

“How did it turn out?”

“Impeccable, baby! My flair and precision regarding detail is through the roof,” you boast full of confidence.

The Heinlein Maneuver

You’re tossing bullets at J, attempting to make them land in his mouth.

“Wow, you’re getting pretty good at this!” Y/N praises and he suddenly chokes. “Oh my God!” you panic. “Spit it out! Spit it out!”

You run behind him and start The Heinlein Maneuver which you had to learn in order to repeatedly save The Joker as a result of this being one the couple’s favorite games to play.

One, two, three… Pfuuu, there it goes: the bullet flies out of him!

The King is taking a few moments to recover whilst you impatiently want to find out what he saw this time: whenever he has these near death experiences he sees weird stuff.

“What was it this time?” you curiously inquire.

“I saw Batsy naked,” he exhales full of spite. “That asshole is totally invading my privacy!”

“Naked?” your entitled smirk makes him lose it. “Was he circumcised?”

“Excuse me??!!”

“A girl can be curious,” Y/N defends her inquiry.

“Listen here, woman! The dilemma you should be quizzing me about is if I saw his face so we can identify him!”

“Well, did you?”

“Nope.”

“Then it’s irrelevant.”

“I nearly died Princess! All I need right now is mindless fornication to aid with my rehabilitation,” the strategist in J blurs out.

“You did this to get laid?”

“Gotta keep the flame going, Pumpkin!”

6 Feet

You sneezed twice in a row and The Joker has suspiciously watched you like a hawk since.

“Do you feel sick, Pumpkin?...”

“No, it’s my allergies,” you blow your nose in a tissue and cough due to a scratchy throat.

“Are you sure?...”

“Yes, you know I get like this at spring time.”

“Hm…” J huffs. “I don’t think we should risk infection, I’m too important for this town. I say you take the south part of The Penthouse and I’ll reside in the west. Don’t come any closer, stay at least 6 feet apart just like the regulations stipulate. You can move in the room across from the master bedroom.”

“Huh?!” the baffled Y/N pretends she didn’t comprehend the words. “I have allergies, J!!! ALLERGIES!!!!”

“6 feet Pumpkin! Don’t make me repeat myself!!”

Booty Call

You got mad and moved into the other bedroom; I guess The King wants to be safe from your allergies because that’s what you have and nothing more. Does he ever listen to reason? Nah, that would be a first.

You’re reading a book when your cell phone goes off: an invitation to chat from your man. Across the hallway…Yup…

“Pumpkin!” his face pops on the screen. “I wanna have phone sex!!!!”

“No,” you immediately cut him off, annoyed.

“What do you mean no?! I’m about to blow a gasket over here!!!!!!!!!”

“I don’t care what happens to your gasket Mister Joker, as long as you keep it 6 feet away from me!!” and you hang up.

“How dare you, Princess?!” he shouts at your defiance. “I’ll open an account on PinchMyButt and I’ll pick another partner to tend to my overloaded system!”

“Be my guest!” you snort at his rudeness since you can actually hear him to start with.

PinchMyButt.com

One of the most popular online dating/hook up websites. Period.

The Joker uploaded his profile one hour ago and instead of being flocked with pinches like he thought, there’s no activity besides users flagging the account for “inappropriate content”. Members reckon it’s distasteful to have someone pretending to be The Clown Prince of Crime searching for a match; they have no clue it’s genuine.

Another hour passes by… zero pinches.

J is getting pissed.

30 more minutes… Ding! The app announces.

“Ha!” he triumphantly yells. “Somebody pinched my butt, Pumpkin! Oh, she said I have nice nipples and a cute bald spot! I don’t have a bald spot! Who is this?!” he investigates the blog name: iHaveAllergies69.

Rings a bell: you kept on telling him this plus his girl preferred sex position…

“Pumpkin, is that you?!” The Joker shrieks.

“Yeah!” you admit from the other bedroom. “I felt sorry for you!”

“I don’t want your pity! Unpinch me! Wait, my account just got suspended: due to a large number of objections, you’re account has been terminated. What the hell?! What am I supposed to do now, Princess?“

“Dunno, you’re the one that wanted us to be apart and it’s an excellent rule! I’m enjoying my isolation; you should do the same.”

“How can you enjoy confinement?”

“I’m having fun!”

“Without me?! Impossible! I put the fun in dysfunctional!”

Boinky

The elevator’s doors slide and Frost strolls inside carrying a box.

“Not a step further!” J mumbles taking the safely off his pistol.

He misses threatening people thus when the guys bring food and supplies to The Penthouse he tries to shoot them.

“What’s in there?” he gestures towards the cardboard container.

“Not sure, sir. Y/N ordered it online.”

“Open it!” the stern order leaves no room for hesitation.

Jonny rips the scotch tape and removes the pink, fluffy toy.

“What the heck is this?!” The Joker frowns at its shape.

Frost analyzes the plush item and it clicks.

“Boss, I think it’s a…”

“PUMPKIN!!!!” The Clown interrupts. “Why does this atrocity resemble my crown jewelry???!!” he screams you as you show up in the living room.

A super excited squeal:

“Boinky arrived!!!” and Y/N rushes to get her package. “Toss it! Toss it!!” you wave your arms and Jonny does as required. “I need something to cuddle with since you kicked me to the curve,” you finally address him.

“And you couldn’t find a teddy bear?!”

Flame

The Joker barges in your bedroom while spraying around with disinfectant mist:

“Pumpkin, this is the biggest emergency Gotham has ever faced!!!!” he frantically takes his clothes off and you jump because you just fell asleep 5 minutes ago.

“What is it?” you snuggle with your fuzzy trinket.

“Goddamn Boinky!” your boyfriend snatches the toy and flings it out the opened window.

“What are you doing?!”

“I’m about to explode, woman! That’s what!!! My online dating was abruptly halted by unforeseen factors so I have no choice,” he viciously starts yanking at you tank top. “I either risk contamination or I blow a gasket and that means kaput!”

“I have allergies,” you frown and J tugs at your shorts in a hurry, irritated.

“Exposing myself like this!” he continues bickering and Y/N can’t help it:

“Just like Batsy did?”

The King gasps, appalled you twisted his near death experience vision in such a hasty manner.

“Unacceptable!” he pulls you under him and your eerie grin prompts doubt: “Hold on! Did you purchase Boinky to intrigue me and made sure I can’t blow my gasket anywhere else with the sole purpose of having me crawl back to you?!”

Y/N innocently kisses the tip of his nose, whispering:

“Gotta keep the flame going, baby.”

Also read: MASTERLIST

You can also follow me on Wattpad and Ao3 under the same blog name: DiYunho.

#the joker fanfiction #the joker imagine #the joker x reader #the joker #the joker jared leto #the joker suicide squad #joker #joker fanfiction #joker imagines #jokerleto #joker suicide squad #mister j #Mistah J #mister joker #dc #dcu

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iaintyourbro · 4 years

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Hi! So I read the "Why I think Clerith doesn't work" post. It's a behemoth of an exchange but I'm glad I went through it! So much sense, insight and lovely politeness everywhere! It's a bit off on tangent but my takeaway is that FF7 would stay the same whether Clerith was romantic or platonic, but if Cloti wasn't romantic, the plot suffers big time. Like to the point that it would lose sense. Cloud not loving Tifa the way he does doesn't flow with the tapestry. 1/

That's not to say that Clerith relationship is unimportant but I guess to me it just drives the point further that it could only be Tifa for Cloud. OG Soldier!Cloud may or may not have had romantic feelings for Aerith and if he did, it indeed won't diminish his love for Tifa in any way. But those feelings are fake; Remake Aerith herself says this, OG Cloud himself comes to realize this. Those possible romantic feelings don't hold much substance (if any at all) post-Lifestream sequence. 2/7

It would be almost impossible for Cloud to think of Aerith romantically once he regains his true self because of Tifa and Zack. This development directly negates every moment he may have previously thought of as romantic. This development overwrites Soldier!Cloud's possible romantic interpretations as nothing more than being a decent person and a good friend. All of this tells me that to take Clerith romantically as a plot point would require some extra elbow grease 3/7

that you won't naturally find in the tapestry. To do so soundly, we would need something else that the devs didn't give us. That's not to say that Clerith being romantic is twisting canon to be what it's not, but rather it doesn't matter in the big picture. The story stands on solid ground as it does if they're platonic, and because Cloud's true love already exists in Tifa and they are ultimately endgame, then there's no need for Clerith to be romantic. 4/7

This is what I mean when I say Clerith romance would need something else, some extra elbow grease; it COULD be there but it's ultimately needless. Which in turn leads me to believe that the romantic possibility between them in OG was indeed put there purely for drama's sake and shock value. Some fans ran with that possibility mindlessly but that’s a different discussion. Bottom line is I think Clerith could either be romantic or platonic and it won't affect the plot all that much, 5/7

because the feeling that Cloud is left with as regards to Aerith is crushing guilt (which he thankfully works through in ACC and we can only assume he remembers her fondly as time goes on) while the feeling Cloud has for Tifa is abiding love, which drives his actions in the plot throughout the whole Compilation. /end LOL sorry this take is way too long but I so loved the whole exchange and it really tickled my last 2 brain cells. Thank you for that!! Stay safe and well ❤ 6/7

Uh, “why clerith doesn’t work” with the long ass ask here lol I’m so sorry to do this to you. But correcting/clarifyingone of stuff I said: Cloud and Tifa being “ultimately endgame”, I meant that they are endgame by the devs’ design. Them ending up together was intentional and not just because Aerith happened to die (just as her death was also intentional and by design). 😬 7/7 (?) lol

Hello Anon! You sent me in quite a thing, so let’s get to it! First, I’m glad you got to read through all of that. I think those types of discussions are really amazing especially when people do stay polite and do actually take other opinions into consideration.

I agree with you - Clerith being romantic or not doesn’t really matter overall to the plot. I think the problem that comes up is how extremist CAs deal with the whole thing. Some are okay with Cloud dying to be with Aerith. Some are okay with trashing Tifa - who is like the most important person in the world to Cloud, you find out - to diminish her character. They twist, erase, and lie about canon and story. That’s where shit gets nasty. But no, it wouldn’t matter plot wise either way.

Also I’m putting pictures in this post because they’re pretty. (The one below cracks me up.)

The relationship of those two is important. I think Aerith’s resolution is poorly interpreted because all of her lines aren’t taken in to consideration. The line “Don’t fall in love with me.” It’s bold. It insinuates something. It makes an assumption. It’s the follow up that’s more important to me... “Even if you think you have... it’s not real.” Boom. That is where it is - if you stop listening at the “L” word, this will be lost on you. This is used to foreshadow Cloud’s persona problem AND to say - the point of Aerith being seen as a romantic interest in OG was to show even more of the illusion that Cloud was under. Do I think they needed to make it romantic - no. I really don’t see it as very romantic in OG, but a lot of people disagree with me and that’s okay. Replaying it as an adult, I saw nothing substantial between those two. Early in OG, though, there’s nothing early on between him and Tifa either. Remake, uh... clearly changed that with Tifa.

Regarding Zack and Real!Cloud’s feelings for Tifa: I cannot think that Cloud would be like “well he’s dead so...” No. True!Cloud also has been pining over Tifa for years. His entire subconscious is filled with Tifa, Tifa, Tifa. They’ve translated this underlying feeling in Remake for SOLDIER!Cloud and how he acts around and reacts to Tifa. It’s like Real!Cloud isn’t gonna let him screw up too bad...

Most of the posts you see saying that Clerith is canon or Clerith was heavy in Remake ignore a lot of other scenes. I’ve seen all three resolution scenes. Multiple times. They’re all important. A lot of extreme shippers will not watch the scene with “the other chick” in them because it’s easier to sit in denial of it. Tifa’s resolution is the most intimate. She hugs him and he hugs her back. This is a huge development thing for Cloud. It also was confirmed that real Cloud was like “my turn” when she did that...

Barret’s resolution scene even has a Cloti moment in it regarding Al and his flowers, which is one of the most unexpected and hilarious reactions I saw out of Cloud. Barret’s resolution also covers some history on Avalanche and he gets to talk about the crew. You hear names that you can go back and see on the darts leaderboard on your next playthrough.

Aerith references the Highwind scene (above). The Highwind scene is the one everybody talks about when it comes to Cloud and Tifa. That and the Lifestream (I prefer the Lifestream, but Remake may... uh... make me change my mind... cuz horny jail and all that).

The one thing they did that was, to me, a huge difference from OG was push the romance envelope. So you get scenes like the train tunnel roll, that’s dripping with sexual tension. You get the scene in Tifa’s apartment if you do all of the quests (everybody should be doing ALL of the quests for ALL Chapters), you get another Cloti scene that’s tense. They have a lot of tense, slam in your face moments that I don’t know how people ignore.

If you look at some of these moments and have no clue what this scene is or what this game is about, you’re gonna have thoughts on what’s going on here. I have thoughts and I know what happens. This is one of those “pheewwww” scenes.

None of this was in OG - they kept the romance between Cloud and Tifa pretty much so subtle you’d have to squint to see the few times it happens before the end of Disc 2. The first time Cloud really comes out and says anything, it’s this:

If you ignore Tifa and think Aerith is all there is to see, this line will come out of left field. It still somewhat feels like its out of left field considering how light Cloti is before this point, but it’s like “I don’t care what anybody else thinks of me except you.” I do remember this slamming me in the face like “where’d this come from” and that’s when the illusion starts to spiral out of control. This works perfectly on your first playthrough and then enhances your second playthrough so you can see how many weird things you can point out to foreshadow what’s going on.

Also... Cloud’s illusionary world in the first half of the game is a major plot point that can’t be ignored. Ignoring it means you stopped playing the game before you get to this point. The player starts to feel anxious like something is wrong. You start to question everything, and then you do get resolution to this later on, and I love the way they did it.

But if you want to say Tifa isn’t a love interest, you need to throw the above scene out. Why would he care so much?

Or this. You would need to ignore the Lifestream. All of it. 90% of it is about Tifa. The other parts are about Zack and Sephiroth. But Tifa’s in that section of his mind too, because she almost dies.

FFVII is not a romance game. Especially not the OG. However love or romance is what drove Cloud to try to join SOLDIER, what drove Cloud to completely go ballistic when his mom is killed, his town burned down, and then he comes across an almost lifeless Tifa.

And then... Sephiroth somehow survives this. A Buster Sword going through his skinny ass... walks out and Cloud goes after him again.

Personally, my favorite rendition of the Cloud stabbing Sephiroth scene is Crisis Core because of the music, the way he walks in the room, and then boom.

If they do a mashup of the two: Have him walk in the room, just showing his legs, (and it feels so fucking arrogant the way he does it ughhh) have dramatic music playing, BUT have Sephiroth turn just at the last second like he does in OG so he sees it’s a grunt right away, and then have Cloud say the above line, which they removed from CC for some reason.

You should watch this scene and feel feelings like I do about the way he walks in there

Okay, anyway...

If Sephiroth had walked out of the reactor, he most likely would have run in to Zangan and killed him. My guess is, he would have found a way to recover from his massive would. Zangan wouldn’t have been able to get to Tifa and them, but you could say Cloud could have taken Tifa... but would he have left Zack? So many what ifs... but the point is, he legit goes nuts when he thinks Tifa is dead.

And so Sephiroth tries this again in Remake:

And Cloud also starts to go ballistic until he sees Barret and freezes. So Sephiroth is like “alright I just need him to break not start trying to murder me yet.”

Cloud is upset when Aerith dies. He blames himself. Hell, he almost killed her himself twice in OG. Of course he feels like shit. Of course he feels guilty. He feels she went to confront Sephiroth on her own because of what he did. But he doesn’t really do much after this. They resolve to go after Sephiroth, but he’s able to get through the Jenova fight, “bury” Aerith and go back to get some sleep at one of the abandoned homes.

When he thinks Tifa dies in Nibelheim, he gets stabbed through the fucking chest and somehow, this grunt kid, picks a 6′1″ dude up by just using sheer rage and willpower and throws him into the depths of the reactor. Like holy shit, what kind of feeling do you need to do that? And Cloud ultimately probably saved a lot of people early on doing that.

Cloti was endgame from the moment OG starts. You really don’t know it, though, for a long time. You also don’t fully grasp it the first time you play the game. If you replay it, you’ll see some subtle references to this, such as Cloud getting jealous in Costa del Sol if Tifa is talking to Johnny, Tifa holding Cloud when he sees Jenova in the Shinra building, the flashback he has of her during the second bombing mission, but that’s not enough to say “it’s obvious from the beginning.”

The story’s intent was to have them be endgame. The point of Aerith was to show more of the illusion (for Cloud). Aerith overall is the most important character plot wise. However, it doesn’t matter either way if people did or didn’t see romance between the Cloud and Aerith. The story plays out the same. What you can’t deny is Tifa’s importance to Cloud overall and how the story plays out...

In closing, though, there is NOTHING saying a person can’t like Clerith. Absolutely nothing. They just can’t claim it’s endgame or canon. It never was. The illusion was supposed to be broken. You were supposed to move on from her death. That was that - whether he romantically had feelings for her or not.

But Canon doesn’t mean best. If you don’t like a canon couple, nothing wrong with a fanon couple. People write some good shit for fanon. You just can’t attack, butcher, twist, lie, and bully to push your rhetoric as canon.

Thanks for sending the ask/comments in. I think it’s a great addition to the discussion!

#cloti #cloud x tifa #tifa lockhart #cloud strife #ff7r #ffviir spoilers #ff7r spoilers #final fantasy 7 remake

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fencesandfrogs · 3 years

Text

cloudtail’s daughter: cinderheart

alright well third character: cinderheart.

i'm going to be honest, i don't care enough about cinderheart to have a lot to say about this. i'm finishing it in the morning, and i'm starting it in night, so watch this be longer than dovewing's (fat chance i wrote like 4k words about dovewing because, and i can't say this enough, i lovewing dovewing), but i'm not feeling particularly inspired at the moment.

ohhh wait i changed my mind this is the one where i get to talk about cinderpelt again, isn't it? yeessss i take it all back i've been waiting to write this since i first wrote cinder back in dovewing's character

anyway as per usual, this is part of an au where dovekit and ivykit are born to brightheart and cloudtail. go ahead and click the cloudtail's daughter tag if you want to see more about this. this is probably pretty dependent on knowing what happens to dovewing in the au, but i'd say compared to lionblaze, its still more self standing because it's significantly more verbose, so it's not reliant on filling in the gaps as much, because this is filling in the gaps.

[3k words, 10 minute read. section headers. a little bit jumpy.]

section one: cinderpelt and cinderkit --- an exposé on reincarnation

you don't need me to tell you warriors reincarnation is weird. to make my life easy, here is how it works:

true reincarnations -- jay's wing/jayfeather, dove's wing/dovewing, lion's roar/lionblaze. only one soul exists. half moon will reunite with jayfeather. or ig he can decide to go by jay's wing. dovewing and lionblaze may or may not regain their memories on death; it's not important to this story so i'm not decided

starclan induced reincarnations -- cinderpelt's soul gets shoved into cinderkit. they now share. this was, ah, very dangerous, because cinderkit and/or cinderkit's soul could have died. but she didn't. as cinderkit grows into her own person, she and cinderpelt will grow either increasingly intertwined (i.e., cinderpelt weaves into cinderheart, and is never fully awakened.) when they die, idk what happens. it's not very nice.

luckily, that didn't happen. instead, cinderheart grows apart and cinderpelt basically is a voice in her head. eventually, at some point, idk, cinderpelt frees herself. i'm sure i'll figure that out in this post, but i don't know yet.

so that's their deal.

section two: cinderheart and lionblaze

alright, cinderheart and lionblaze are not going to be a conflict thing, because of destiny. i'm just, that's. well it's a step up from the standard romance drama, but i still hated it. so anyway, cinderheart knows lionblaze is in L-O-V-E with her, but she's kind of holding out until he's more mature/responsible.

she's also not ready for kits, and that's the only way a warriors romance can be officially codified.

jk, but in seriousness, they're already close, similar to sandstorm and fireheart in books 2-4 or so of TPB. she's just not ready to take him as a mate yet, and he's kind of funny as a bumbling fool. that said, she does care a lot about him and if he pushed her, or circumstances pushed her, she'd be willing to be upfront about it.

cinderpelt is happy cinderheart is finding love, but she does kind of wish it wasn't with lionblaze. not because he's an idiot, after all, cinderpelt had a crush on fireheart before he finished growing a brain, but because she is worried about the prophecy. and lionblaze dying and leaving cinderheart alone. so cinderheart has some internal conflict about this, but she has internal conflict over whether she wants thrush or mouse some days. side effect of having two souls in one body. she keeps it wrapped up because she's pretty sure she's into lionblaze and cinderpelt is unsure, and she doesn't need to confuse the situation anymore.

yeah, by the time this series begins, cinderheart and cinderpelt are really two separate entities, and cinderpelt is getting ready to leave. she's just sort of waiting. it's until cinderheart and lionblaze confirm they're mates. why? because that's when it happens in the original and i can't think of a better time. also, it kind of completes cinderpelt's small crush on fireheart.

(it really wasn't that big. sandstorm just made a big deal out of it because she was jealous.)

section three: dovepaw

right, so cinderheart is hype for dovepaw. the dovepaw is real sweet and quiet and cinderheart feels good about that. so they're excited.

cinderheart and dovepaw go out for territory and cinderheart is like "she's on top of shit this dovepaw" and dovepaw catches a mouse or two and cinderheart is super proud and supportive and everyone is happy.

and then cinderheart starts to feel like she's failing dovepaw, because dovepaw just can't get anything else down. lionblaze and ivypaw, on the other hand, are having basically no issues. so she feels like she's failing dovepaw, and she's a little insecure about that, so cinderheart and dovepaw tag along with lionblaze and ivypaw a lot.

as you can guess, this makes everything worse.

cinderheart realizes dovepaw is sneaking out at night and is like "well this is a problem i'm not equipped to deal with" and frets over it for a while, unsure of who to talk to without geting dovepaw in trouble. (lionblaze also snuck out as an apprentice, he's an unreliable source.)

so she doesn't tell anyone at first, just makes sure dovepaw is still getting sufficient rest for a young cat. (she isn't.) eventually, she lets it slip to hollyleaf who talks about it with lionblaze who ivypaw overhears, but ivypaw is the last character i'm covering in this set of essays.

dovepaw gets trapped in the tunnels for three days, and cinderheart feels like she's failed her charge. also, brightheart is kind of mad at cinderheart because she feels that cinderheart didn't really do anything to stop dovepaw from feeling like she needed to prove herself and like, brightheart's not wrong, but it's also unfair to cinderheart. so cinderheart blames herself a whole lot because dovepaw is dead now and it's her fault.

when dovepaw gets back cinderheart only barely punishes her, and dovepaw has had enough exploration, so being confined to camp is only barely a punishment anyway. cinderheart vows that she's going to do better, do right, by dovepaw (although she's really been doing pretty okay no one is really blaming cinderheart, even brightheart has gotten over it now that dovepaw is back and safe and alive.)

section four: can you hear what i hear?

so when dovepaw gets back, cinderheart takes her out once she's recovered, and dovepaw is like "so where are the creatures with the clicky-clackies?" and cinderheart has no idea what's going on.

but cinderheart, despite being lumped in the "two braincells" category that the first three pov characters have (seriously if you haven't read my breakdown of this au as a whole you may want to because i've written so much for it that i'm definitely skipping details. now that my pace has slowed from "about 10k words in one weekend" to "2k words a day" it's better but still), is not an idiot. she's seen the lake get smaller. times are getting hard. there was a gathering while dovepaw was in the tunnels that cinderheart went to and it was real rough. so she's like. hm. maybe. dovepaw is starclan chosen or something? it would explain why she's spacy all the time.

cinderheart gets all the info she can from dovepaw and then has to figure out whether she's taking this to firestar or jayfeather.

i'm not 100% how this resolves, but eventually, cinderheart and dovepaw go to firestar to discuss the beavers. cinderheart does most of the talking, dovepaw is just kind of there nodding along.

so the standard canon thing happens and they all get ready for the trip. i feel like i've done a pretty in-depth breakdown of this for dovewing, and hollyleaf will get one too, so i'm just going to say, other than hollyleaf also coming, it's pretty much canon.

section five: the tribe

oh man it's the cinderheart book and whoo boy am i excited for this one.

alright alright alright so dovepaw is doing the Late Nights again, but its to see tigerheart. so cinderheart is uh, not very aware of it this time?

dovepaw is older and smarter (barely) and more importantly knows she can’t get caught again.

so dovepaw real tired, real close to tigerheart at gatherings, and cinderheart is like “hm maybe something is up” and cinderpelt is like “yeah keep an eye on that”

(an aside: so cinderpelt’s presence is kind of a nagging one in cinderheart’s life. it’s not that she’s not the same cinderpelt we know and love, but she’s a kind of omnipresent authority figure, so she reads a bit differently. but she’s still our wonderful cinderpelt. no fear.)

and ivypaw tells lionblaze that dovepaw is sneaking out (see here for lionblaze, literally 0 awareness) and he tells cinderheart and cinderheart is like “well that checks” and cinderpelt is like “hm remember fernpaw and dustpelt”

“ferncloud is like a second mother to me no i don’t know the details of her romance”

“yea well...”

you know, cinderheart's almost worried dovepaw is going to have kits real soon after becoming a warrior and there are approximately 0 thunderclan toms she's close enough with for that to be applicable.

(for the record, they are not that close. cinderpelt is concerned not just because forbidden romance, but also because of how young leafpool was. not impossibly young by any means, but still fairly young.)

so then through uhhh who knows memory? convenient stormfur is convenient? haven't decided yet, but anyway, cinderheart decides the tribe can help them. (the real reason is because i want the tribe to solve a clan problem for once. the stated reason is probably something like "dovepaw feels too much pressure after the beavers" or "long journeys are good for apprentices" i mean look brambestar dgaf about where warriors are going so why should i?)

lionblaze and ivypaw come along and cinderheart is like "great i just told this guy that i don't want to change anything between us until i'm done mentoring dovepaw and now he's tagging along with this? where's a hollyleaf when you need her?"

(hollyleaf is living with her ghost boyfriend, cinderheart, she is no longer a reliable source of buffering between you and lionblaze. also, cinderheart, this isn't coming up in this au because again ending in step with canon but please consider: lesbians.)

anyway, the four of them set out and dovepaw and ivypaw still aren't talking which is getting really old, really fast.

eventually, after a day or two of travelling in basically silence, ivypaw and dovepaw do start to talk again. one goal down. (my conviction that travelling books are good, actually, remains untested, but i'm determined to prove it.)

okay, so i've been reading all my notes in detail as i start actually drafting this, which means my essay content is morphing further into writing notes. you can tell because i'm skipping bigger sections, or adding notes about purpose in story, etc. this is just a warning that since i last worked on this, i've actually begun writing the book this stuff takes place in (the first book only matters if you're dovekit or ivykit, so the fact that i'm writing it doesn't really have an effect. i just wanted to start with something low-stakes.) so like, on one hand, i should have more figured out, but on the other hand, my comments are going to be a lot looser and i wouldn't be surprised if i just straight up contradict something i already said (i do edit my posts but not heavily and only if i think they're something i'm going to point people back towards. i'd rather point people to my archive once i start posting, so.) anyway, this is just a warning for this and anything else in the CTD essay series (hollyleaf, jayfeather, ivypool, as well as the books, growing shadows, fading echoes, distant whispers, and whatever the canon names are but switch book 4 and 5), that it's going to be less "here's a summary of what i'm going to do" and more "here are my thoughts about what i'm doing"

right that note aside, the travelling party makes it to the mountains. there's drama, probably? none of them have been to the mountains IIRC? i know jayfeather has but i don't think the others went with him (bramble did? hm i'll have to research) but okay so the point is, they make it to the tribe as the mountain is getting colder and this is where i have to deviate from my trend of realism the most because they're going to stay on the tribe for much longer than they should. my timeline has ivy/dove born in leafbare at the beginning of the season (easier math), so this is early-mid leaf fall, and the mountain would be unpassable really soon. but i don't want that, so we're going to pretend they have 2-3 moons before it's truly impassable, or the story flows a lot worse because i really want the drought to be in green leaf because it just sets up a hard hitting winter which is a good tension/drama fodder machine.

unfortunately, i'm limited in who i can kill off, but what can you do?

right so anyway, they're in the tribe and cinderheart present dovepaw and stoneteller is like "huh ig this could work sure why not" and dovepaw is enlisted to be a tribe to-be. she's not given an offiical whatever the tribe word for mentor is, (does the tribe have individual mentors? i can't remember off the top of my head), but she's more or less the same as any othet tribe to-be. the fact that she's so fluffy is a bonus. keeps her warm.

cinderheart is less at-home in the tribe, but she works with the prey hunters and generally gets along. i'm not sure. maybe she makes friends? (this is literally her book she definitely does interesting things i just don't know who lives in the tribe off the top of my head. her life does not revolve around dovepaw like 100%. she has to sort out some cinderpelt stuff in this book it's just very internal and i'm not entirely sure how it goes yet.)

so cinderheart and dovepaw are doing their thing for a bit. they get a good chance to explore tribe culture. it's good. everything is good. cinderheart is still definitely mentoring dovepaw, but what that means right now is a lot of modeling how to be a good learner, rather than explicitly teaching. cinderheart herself is preparing and thinking about how to transfer these skills to thunderclan.

uh yeah so anyway it's getting close to winter so they gotta head out, and the tribe is like "off u go food is tight in leafbare/whatever-they-call-winter" and the four of them set out.

okay so i'm going to skip to cinderheart's second book, because honestly, arc one narrators all get thrown in BGCH until they're needed in arc 2. (i mean, tbf, jayfeather has done literally nothing in all of arc one. nothing. he's just there, occasionally being like "no firestar, don't make dovepaw my apprentice!" and that's pretty much it.)

and basically so while jayfeather and hollyleaf are off having ghost romances (that's the entire plot of their book it's ghost romance), cinderheart and lionblaze are just having a relationship. dovewing and ivypool are warriors now, so cinderheart does have background drama of being worried because dovewing is still seeing tigerheart ("we took her on a whole mountain vacation and she's still obsessed with him?"), but like, it's very chill for a while.

and then sol comes back.

oh man, sol comes back and it's gonna be a big deal. yeah. it's a big deal for cinderheart, and hopefully this will be an interesting section, because cinderheart is a very different character from the OG oots crew, and she's going to handle problems in a different way, and this is the first chance we get to see that. the beavers don't count she was j chilling with whatever dovepaw said and the tribe is certainly a good example of her character (caring, resourceful, outside the box), but that's the set up. sol is the pay off.

so cinderheart is pleased by sol, but also generally wary. you gotta remember, cinderheart has been on a lot of extra curricular field trips. she's met a lot of cats. (note to self: include more loners.) she's a quick judge of character. and sol, you know, he's a lot.

so she keeps an eye on him, and she expresses her concern to hollyleaf, and hollyleaf is like, yeah, sure, i'll help.

so hollyleaf is like "so by the way, sol is in the tunnels." and cinderheart is like "this is going to be a problem" and cinderpelt who is now in starclan is like "oh she's finally learning."

so i'm not entirely sure on the details here because i haven't plotted out the ending three books in nearly as much detail (i mean on the blog i have but in my head where i keep all the plot lines i haven't) but cinderheart is going to solve the problem and she'll do it in a different way.

thunderclan definitely still learns to fight in the tunnels because they need to for battle purposes. (oh, to be a windclan tunnler, looking down in sadness from starclan about what my clan has lost.)

and yeah leaving cinderheart here because she retreats to BGCH after completing her duty of being a meanful character.

cinderheart? done.

#lionblaze #dovewing #ivypool #hollyleaf #cinderheart #cloudtail's daughter #mine #q #txt #27th #February #2021 #February 27th 2021 #essay #long #lovewing dovewing #not really but also yes #28th #February 28th 2021

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whereconfusionisarhyme · 4 years

Text

First Reactions To Logan’s Playlist

K first song let’s do this

White and Nerdy-Weird Al Yankovic

Wtf this song was definitely Joan’s idea I mean who else would think of ‘White and Nerdy’ for Logan

Is this like canon he listens to this stuff or like songs about him???

Not Perfect-Tim Minchin

TIM MINCHIN

Bo Burnham better be on Logan's playlist

#deep

Is this about the mindpalace/inside of Thomas’ head??? Cause like???? Ouch???? I think????

Lol nvm it’s not sad lmao

I take back my take back it is sad

So this could be literally “in his mind” or it could be figurative and it’s really messing with my funky flow

Streaks-ANIMA!

Cool instrumental

Love the voice sounds a little like MARINA and Regina Spektor

Oh no I’m two lines in and I can tell it’s gonna be sad

OH NO CONFORMITY RELATED ANGST AHHHHH

Wow Logan is just out here being relatable isn’t he smh 😔👊

"Cause you're a smart kid, but you're still a kid" LOGAN REALLY BE OUT HERE BEING RELATABLE ON MAIN

The Elements-Tom Lehrer

Sounds like what piano class would sound like if I took piano class

Something you would listen to in science class

Bop

Medicine-STRFCKR

A Fever You Can't Sweat Out vibes

Lmao nvm

Gonna go look up the lyrics rn brb

A sad bop

Philosophy cool

Human-Tank And The Bangas

Logan playing this to comfort himself because this singer is the only person who has ever told him this

WHO HURT LOGAN WITH THEIR WORDS

LOGAN THE HEART SKIPPING COMMENT ARE YOU OKAY IM GIVING YOU A HUG

GUYS LOGAN IS TRYING TO CONVINCE HIMSELF THAT HE MATTERS IM NOT OKAY

Last???? Relationship???

Okay I'm not a shipper BUT my theorist analysis obsessed brain is just SCREAMING about Roman and Patton

Observation: Logan is probably atheistic and this song covers God a lot. I don't have a conclusion or anything just pointing that out

This woman do be calming tho like yes I'm beautiful yes I'm special thank you

Okay so I already knew Logan wasn't okay but he 100% isn't okay

Fittet Happier-Radiohead

K two words in and I can tell this is gonna be sad here we go

Employees? Or maybe…other sides?

Minor key ok

SELF HARM ISNT OKAY

"WILL NOT CRY IN PUBLIC" NONONONO

So I heard of a good therapist just downtown-

The Watchtower-The Dø

I paused it cause I need a second after the last one

Guys as someone who dissosiates a lot I think Logan might be dissosiating

Dissosiating to protect himself from his emotions

Y'all just trust me in this one

Coming for the TØP brand I see

K ready to start again here we go

Fire beat I'm vibing with it

Is he trying to distance himself from his emotions to try and perform his tasks better like watching from a Watchtower???

This is the first character I've seen that might dissosiate which only means one thing

I'm gonna be projecting an unholy amount in my fanfiction

"No one in particular" hon who hurt you

City Lights=Emotions (which he considers distractions)??? Maybe??

I'm a William Finn fan come on this isn't my first rodeo

Art Is Dead-Bo Burnham

BO BURNHAM I WAS RIGHT

We all love some good Imposter Syndrome (tm)! :D

This gives Learning New Things About Ourselves' a whole new meaning

Ngl this is the first time I heard the degrading of the piano at the end and I'm here for it

In My Mind-Amanda Palmer

Oop we LOVE setting up impossible expectations for yourself to the point you have a cripplingly horrid self esteem! :D

Logan I've done this before and trust me it isn't worth it the mental breakdowns are too taxing

I'll do it when I'm older=I'm never gonna get around to it

I don't wanna be the person I wanna be either

Why do I perfectly understand every lyric am I ok

Live!!! While you!!!! Can!!!!

At least there's a happy ending

Okay so I've decided that once I'm done I'm gonna make a list of songs I think would fit in the playlist

Algorythym-Childish Gambino

K its spelled incorrectly get ready for some metaphors my dudes

Intro is cool definitely very very Logan WOAH OKAY CHAIN SMOKER

Gonna go look up lyrics I don't understand shit

The chorus sounds like Thanksgiving at my Aunt's house where like 100+ African American relatives blast house music and dance until their feet falls off

Nvm no it doesn't

GO OFF

ELPHABA BETTER WATCH OUT CHILDISH GAMBINO IS COMING FOR YOUR BELT

Adlibs are everything

Letter C-Zach Sherwin

This gives off the same vibes as that one pickle video by Charlie Puth

Roman vs Logan rap battle but it's this

I don't really see why this is related but sure

Time Adventure-The Marcus Hedgehog

Nostalgiaaaaaa

Okay Logan has too many songs talking about one (1) person who is it

I have a gut feeling that it's about Thomas and how Logan used to be enough "back then" but now he thinks he's not cause like let's be honest when was the last time someone gave Logan a strong sincere thank you for all that he does????Excluding DWIT (which doesn't really count in my opinion cause they said he was cool, not like an integral and arguably the most important and powerful side) nobody really appreciates Logan???? Hugs???

Anyway plz ignore this is just how my brain works

K next song

The Breach-clipping.

OKAY SLOW DOWN IM GONNA LOOK UP LYRICS

Is this Daveed Diggs???? I haven't listened to Hamilton in like forever is this Daveed Diggs???

LITERALLY PERFECY PARRALLEL TO LOGAN AND THE SIDES

Sound effects

Really just gonna fry my eardrums like that huh

What I Do For U-Ra Ra Riot

Okay scrap anything and everything I said about it being the sides Logan is 100% talking about Character!Thomas

Erase Me-Ben Folds Five

Ooh this intro reminds me of this one particular musical songs but I don't remember which one

Wait have I listened to this before????

I've listened to this before!

Okay I need to stop being distracted

NOOOOOO don't Erase Yourself!!!!

Logan really just do be having no Self Esteem don't he

Okay so theory: Logan didn't pop up in person in the last video because his eyes were too red from crying

I have 0 evidence so it's not a very good theory but…

Just throwing it out there

One More Time with Feeling-Regina Spektor

Oh no it's Regina Spektor

Oh no I'm gonna cry

Okay so Logan doesnt wanna block of all emotion, only permit some to show???? But most of the time block everything????

Did I get that???

Nobody!!!! Thanks!!!! Logan!!!!

Awww he just wants love and recognition

Tbh this sounds a lot like Roman they have so much in common despite their constant arguing

Galaxy Song-Monty Python

Ooh Monty Python

I haven't listened to Monty Python so I sadly don't know the context

Really just dissing all of the other sides aren't we

Can't really blame him tho

Very scientific

"Yeau~"

Sweet with dark undertones. Love it.

Equation-Hans Zimmer

Later I'm gonna check the equations if they're correct XD

Sunrise-In The Heights

!!!!!!

WHO???!!!!!

K to this is one of my favorite love songs ever it's just so sweet and as someone who's bilingual the concept is just amazingly wonderful so yeah I may be freaking out

Also because WHO??!!

Okay I said I wasn't a shipper but let's be honest this is probably about Roman not romantically but like

OR MAYBE JANUS???

IM SO CONFUSED

But Logan is definitely Nina in this situation it just fits so well with her character for the same reasons I really wanna play her (but never will cause I'm exactly 0% Latin American smh) yeah the pressures to be the smartest and then it backfiring horribly and oh God what if Inùtil is also in the playlist ahhhh

Okay moving on

Lifeboat-Heathers

WHAT

CONFORMITY RELATED ANGST LOGAN STOP BEING RELATABLE AHHHH

IS THIS CAPTAIN THOMAS??? THE OTHER SIDES AS A WHOLE??? AN ABSTRACT CONCEPT???

IM NOT OKAY

Bohemian Groove-Will Connolly

Okay I'm still not recovered from the last song but I need to continue or else I'm never gonna finish this playlist

Eeecccchhhhhoooo

Your friends haven't surpassed you Logan you belong with them okay????

Emptiness despite success??? Millennial who???

Vibing with it but also are you okay

Nvm I know the answer already

Hug All Ur Friends-Cavetown

Okay so Logan is a Cavetown gay noted

Self validation??? Who's she???

Lies. You care so much about what other people *sides* think about you

Maybe Logan listens to this song to remind himself to not care too much

But it doesn't work and it's getting to him more and more

That took a turn

Breathin'-Thomas Sanders

Good move

Don't really have much to say on this

The Bidding

Spoopy

Alchoholic!Logan

New idea for us fan writers

The pronunciation of beurgoise

Okay I'm like pretty certain at this point that all of the songs that mention a someone else is about Character!Thomas

A Better Version

OHMYGOD I LOVE THIS MUSICAL ITS SO UNDERRATED I HAVE LISTENED TO THE SOUNDTRACK AND UNGODLY AMOUNT OF TIMES YESSSSS

But also since I know the song in terrified cause the feels are gonna come in I just know it

Wait so is Jayce supposed to be Thomas???

I am suddenly feeling much more uncertain about my certainty

Okay let me unpause and just listen to it (even though I already know all of the lyrics)

Okay so I'm a dumbass and apparently this song isn't even part of the playlist

Okay so I'm an idiot and the last few songs have all been "related to playlist" and not in the actual playlist I'm big dumb.

Anyway here's my list of songs I think would fit. (BTW, I only went off of lyrics for these ones. I realize that there’s a general sound and vibe for the playlist, but I decided not to follow it.)

Oh No! ~ MARINA

Hug All Ur Friends ~ Cavetown

Bohemian Groove ~ Will Connolly

Guiltless ~ Dodie Clark

Lifeboat ~ Laurens O’Keefe

The Bidding ~ *idk who*

I Am Not A Robot ~ MARINA

Inútil - Lin Manuel Miranda

Through The Eyes Of A Child ~ AURORA

Community Gardens ~ The Scary Jokes

Let me know if I should do this with the other playlists as well! :)

#sander sides #ts sanders sides #sanders sides #thomas sanders #tss #logan sander angst #logan sanders #ts logan #logan’s playlist #first reaction #self harm mention #tw self harm

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nox-scrie · 4 years

Text

Shady Bussines

What do you mean it’s the 27th and I should have posted this a day earlier for the TMA5 Countdown? Sorry, I can’t hear you over the sound of recovering my senses from a senseless previous day. Anyway. This is the second day of TMA5 Countdown wow!! The fears were The Corruption and The Buried and because I love that coffin with all my heart I decided to bring it back for another round. No, this one is not corrected either and no, I’m not sorry. I hate rereading my works. It happens. Hope y’all gonna enjoy it though!!

Fears: The Corruption; The Buried brieeef mentions of The Eye

Content Warnings: Death, Paranoia, some mentions of Insects

Rating: Teen and Up Audience

Characters: Jon “Tired of your shit before you even started talking” Sims, Martin “What even is going on” Blackwood, Jane Prentiss, some mentions of Tim “Love of my life” Stoker and Sasha “WHY WON’T YOU LET ME LOVE YOU” James; also some OCs and one of them appeared in Day 1 too!

Setting: Season 1!! a little after episode 22, with Martin’s time spent in self isolation (hah.)

Word Count: ~3670

~~~ Shady Bussines

Jon stepped into his office, viewing the piles of unread, unordered statements, and felt another headache forming. He was having none of the former Archivist's shit, not after last night.

There was little light in his office, and he turned off almost all the ones that were still on. The buzzing of the light bulbs was annoying what was left of Jon's sanity, and he wanted to be in the best of his mental capacity when he read a statement he has prepared, one that seemed to be related to Case #9982211.

He slowly dragged himself to his office anyway, putting on his reading glasses that were hung around his neck and tightening his tie. This was his job, and he didn't want to be fired after barely a month of being the Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute because of a pretty bad hangover.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he opened a drawer, the only fucking thing in order in this room, and got a tape recorder out. He sighed, thinking with half a mind to call Martin and ask him for a cup of tea and a Paracetamol. Hah. Good joke, Jon. Not after last night.

He took a deep breath, slowly picked up a lint from his skirt and cleared his throat. Maybe he could burry himself in statements until his headache goes away, and forget everything he has said to Tim last night. Yeah. That sounds like a good plan.

"Statement of Horace Dwayne regarding his experience with a strange coffin, Archway, London. Original statement given October 17th, 2013. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London. Statement beginns.

I knew my fiancé's job was not one of the legal kind. There was simply no way a person with no college education can make enough money as to afford as moving in together in our apartment, barely five months after we got engaged. Yet, I never mentioned it, and I think they were grateful because of that.

We first met a few years ago, on a dating app for LGBTQ+ people. It was a casual thing, we just hit each other up when we needed company, and never talked about anything in particular. Until one day, they asked me if I lived in Manchester and I said that yes, I did. They came to my place a few hours after that, rain soaked and bleeding from a wound on their torso.

That was the first time I met Morgan Doe in person, and it was me, clumsily stitching up something that looked like a kinfe wound on their side. I asked for some details, but Mo didn't tell me anything. They just thanked me for taking care of them because they couldn't go to the hospital. I remember ranting about how they should take better care of themselves, and how Mo looked at me in the eye before bending to kiss me. Or maybe I was the one bending. In that moment, though, it didn't matter: we were kissing, and after I started ignoring the wetness of their lips and how they hissed when I climbed on top of them, it was actually really good.

Mo asked me to be their boyfriend a month after that, and I said yes. We moved in my crappy, ranted apartment in Manchester, and lived there for almost a year before I asked them to marry me. I knew that we couldn't get married right away; I was between jobs at the moment, and even though I still wasn't sure what Mo actually did for a living, I knew that they will not be able to afford a wedding in a matter of months

Or that was what I thought then. One day, when I got home from a failed job interview, I found Mo in the kitchen, happily mumbling the lyrics of some song that was playing on the radio. I asked them what got them so cheery, and they just turned to face me and started dangling a set of keys in front of my eyes. Mo kissed me, and said that they managed finally get us a place for our own.

I knew that something was wrong then. I knew that something was painfully, terribly wrong, from how fast they managed to find us a place right after we got engaged, to the glint in their eyes, that mischievious glint, when they shared the news. I tried getting the information out of them, how did they actually manage to find us a place so fast, but Mo just shooshed me and said that I shouldn't worry, because they were going to give me the wedding of my dreams, and the life that I deserve.

A month after that, we were already settled in Archway, London. Apparently the apartment has been pretty cheap because of the loud neighbours, especially a woman who claimes to hear wasps in the attic. The first night we got there, I saw her in the garden of the apartment building, staring at the basement door. Her eyes were bloodshot red and she looked ill. When she turned her face straight towards me, I was too surprised to turn away. I think she smiled, but I don't remember her lifting the corners of her mouth. It felt like she was smiling, though.

I had a job now, in a shopping centre, selling vegetables. It wasn't much, but somehow we never dealt with money problems in our house. It seemed like the money never ended, in fact, and Mo told me more than once that I shouldn't be concerned about that. And I tried very hard to not be, but in the darkest of nights I still remembered that gilnt in their eyes when they showed me the key.

It was an usual evening when the coffin came. I was having my tea and reading a book that has made its appearence in my house, ignoring the weird noises the woman from upstairs, Jane something, made. There was a knock on the door, and I hoped it wasn't that creepy woman asking for some flour. I really wouldn't like to know what she did with it.

But it wasn't Jane. The two men sitting in my doorway were so tall I had to crack my neck to see their faces, obscured by some big caps. They spoke in some sort of accents, probably russian, and said they were from a delivery serivce and they had a package for Morgan Doe. Mo was not home at the moment, and chills were creeping up my back when one of them extended a clipboard for me to sign. I told them that Mo is my fiancé and that they're not home yet. The two men looked at each other, and one of them shrugged. I signed the papers and the two placed the big box in my kitchen, the first room of the apartment, and left without a word. I only assumed that the package was already paid.

I didn't know what it was, but if Mo has ordered something for the house they would have told me. I thought that maybe it was something for work, and that thought made me feel unwell. I called Mo, but they didn't pick up. I only thought they were busy, and I eyed the big box suspiciously. I went back in the living room for my tea, and I got back to the kitchen with it. It couldn't be something from work, I thought, work doesn't deliver such big packages. So I opened the box.

The shock I felt when I saw the wooden box inside, the coffin inside, made me take a step back and stumble into the table, spilling the tea. It was a coffin, an adult sized coffin, and a pretty new one from appearence. Well, except for the words "DO NOT OPEN" scribbled in the wood. That was not the strangest thing, though, but the fact that it was chained up so heavily it seemed to hold a living person, not a wooden box.

I called Mo again. And again. I was so panicked I could barely breath, and they were not picking up. I couldn't afford to leave the room or lose sight of the coffin, who did not move, speak or gave any sort of clue about its origin or its content. I noticed the key attached to the chain, and that image made me laugh. There was a coffin in my kitchen, a chained up coffin, with a key! I was going crazy.

It was almost midnight when I felt like I couldn't stay awake any longer. I took the key and placed it in my back pocket, careful not to touch the wood or the chain too much. If it was a cursed object, I didn't want to be in more contact with it than I already was. Mo still hasn't came back; they do that sometimes, leave overnight, but they always give me a heads up at least a week before. Of course the only time they left without telling me was the same night that a strange coffin, probably with a very weird thing inside, made its way to our home.

I dreamt of bugs slowly crawling their way on my skin, through my ear and inside my brain, bitting and pinching it as if it was a sponge, whispering about the hive, its importance, its puropose. It was a very unusual dream for me, but when I woke up and found out that I wasn't in my bed anymore was even stranger. I was in the kitchen, in front of the coffin, with the key in my hand. The key from my work pants, which are in the drawer.

I never sleepwalked before, and to think that out of nowhere I was not only sleepwalking, but dreaming of bugs and searhing for things in my asleep state was impossible to understand. It was the middle of the night and I took out my phone to send Mo another message, begging them to come home. I don't know how I fell asleep afterwards, but I know that the key was on the nightstand where I put it before going to bed.

Mo came back that morning, and I found them in the kitchen, their back turned to me. They were staring at the coffin, and I slowly made my way towards them, anger and relief that they were okay starting up in my stomach. But they didn't turn towards me, not as I slammed the door on my way inside. They jusy sat there, and stared. It took me only a moment to realize they were crying, and Mo has never cried as long as I know.

They turned towards me, their cheeks stained with tears, and hugged me. There was no word shared between us as we sat there, in front of the coffin, Mo crying softly on my shoulder. I think I understood them better in that morning then I did in the entire time I knew them.

Our lives for the next few days has been like that: staring at the coffin for sometimes hours on end, waiting for it to make a move, and then quietly chatting about what we did that day. We have got used to it, too. Mo placed it in our storage closet that we never even used, and it fit perfectly. Both of us tried to ignore the little tapping from inside when he touched it. I think we both convinced ourselved it was just in our imagination.

When the first rain came, it was during the nighttime. I'm a very heavy sleeper so I usually don't awake unless somebody hits me with something, but the noise from that night woke me up. Mo's side of the bed was empty, and the bedside table's drawer was open, with the key for the coffin missing. My heart skipped a beat, and I ran for the kitchen, bursting through the door.

There was a moaning coming from the storage closet, and the door was opened. As I scrambeled for the light bulb, I realized that the moaning was almost musical. When I turned the lights on, the moaning hasn't stopped, but grew even louder. The door to the wooden casket was open, the light glinting off the chains mockingly.

I took a deep breath, and started screaming for Mo. I didn't dare leave the kitchen, not with the casket open, not when I didn't know where my partner was and if they got in there. I realized they must've been the one who opened it. They might have had went there every night, and this time, with that awful moaning, was too much for them. They gave up.

I'm not sure when I fell to the ground, a mass of sobs and pained screams, covering my ears to stop the sound of moaning, but I know when a knock came at my door. I couldn't move, couldn't leave, and the person must have been so impatient they just bursted through the door. It was the two delivery man, accompanied by a guy with a very common face. I couldn't catch the man's name, too caught in the two delivery men as they closed the casket and chained it up again. The jackets they were wearing had the words "Breckon and Hope Delivery" written on the back.

The moaning only grew louder as they placed the coffin on a trolley to take it down the stairs easier. I barely managed to get on my feet and catch the other man's rain-soaked coat by the fringes of the sleeve.

"Why did you do that to them? How has Mo wronged you?" I asked, and I was not feeling angry, or empty, but rotten. As if my insides have been eaten by insects slowly and only now I can percieve the damage.

"Oh, child. They didn't do anything to me. All that happened was their own fault, their own making." at this the man stopped, gently extracted his hand from my grip, and looked around the apartment. "Nice place you've got here. I'm certain it was worth it."

I moved out the next week, when I started hearing weird insect noises. I never managed to get the door fixed, not that it mattered. The whole building burned up a few days after my departure, and I couldn't help but feel this was the perfect ending."

Jon paused for a few seconds there, thoughts flying around in his head, never focusing on just one. There was so much information here, so many points to connect. It felt like a conclussion was coming, and Jon hated that he wasn't able to see it fully because of his stupid, throbbing headache.

"Statement ends." he said, an afterthought. "Well, this is not only connected to Case #9982211, but may also be related to Case #0161203, the one of Martin's from almost a week ago. If that is true and the Jane who lives in Archway in this case is the same as the one that locked Martin in his apartment then... that would be very interesting, indeed. I should ask Sasha to make more research regarding this case. I... Recording ends."

Pressing the red button to stop the recording, Jon started scrubbing at his eyes before letting out a heavy sigh. It felt like he was caught in a web, all of these statemenets connected one way or another, with him caught right in the middle of it all and yet unable to see where they started and with whom they ended. He got up on unsteady feet and caught the edge of his desk in order to not lose balance. God. He would make his own fucking tea and get his own fucking Paracetamol-

The door to his office opened, and Martin came stumbling in. He was wiping sleep away from his eyes and masking a yawn at the same time with the back of his hand. He was also wearing one of Jon's baggy sweaters he has left in the room of the Archives Martin occupies now. The recorder turned itself on, unoticed by either of the man looking at each other.

"Oh, Gosh, Jon. God. What are you even doing here? It's not even 7 a.m. yet."

Jon didn't even try to mask the scowl on his face when he gave his snappy reply. "Some of us get to work on time, Martin."

Martin stopped wipping at his eyes, his glasses now slightly askew. Jon looked behind him and turned his hand into a fist. Why was he like this?

"Still, the Archives don't open for at least another half an hour. Jesus, Jon, I'm still in my pajamas."

"I can see that." Jon replyed, meaning to be bitter and mean, and hating the softness that managed to slip into his tone. He scowled harder in return when Martin looked down at himself and jumped.

"Ahm... I... my clothes. Are at cleaning. All of them. And you forgot this and I... meant... to give it back to you... not now I mean! But I didn't have anything else to wear and..."

"Martin. Stop making a fool of yourself. It's fine that... that sweater has a hole in it anyway."

"I sewed it." Martin said, matter of factly, his face still red and expression flustered.

"You did?" Jon asked, more surprised than anything, and when Martin started biting his lip Jon looked back at that spot above his head, that was now becoming his favourite part of the Archives.

"Yeah... It was nothing anyway and I didn't want to return it with the hole in it. Not that! Not that I am.. wearing it often or something."

"I said it's fine. The blue fits you better than it ever fitted me, anyway."

Martin looked at him in the eyes, something strong and fierce in his look, and Jon didn't turn his head this time. Neither of them said anything for a while, but then somebody coughed in the doorway and both of them jumped, the moment having vanished.

"Did we intrerrupt something?" said Sasha, sidestepping Martin and leaving some papers on Jon's desk. Tim, who was behind her, remained next to Martin and sent a big grin in Jon's direction. The scowl came back to the archivist’s features.

"No, nothing, what? Of course not. I was just... Jon, why are you holding onto the edge of the desk so tightly?"

Jon looked down at his hands and saw that they were white with effort. He stopped clenching them, and immediately started feeling dizzy once again. Sasha caught him before he could fall backwards, with an arm around his middle.

"Easy there, Jon. Are you okay?"

"Just.. feeling a little ill." Jon said, and Tim let out a bark of laughter that he quickly covered with a caugh.

"Godness, this is just awful, isn't it, Martin?" Tim said, making a show of his words and softly touching his heart with one hand. "I'm certain one of your famous teas would make him all better, don’t you think?"

Before Jon could give a snappy reply, Martin jumped slightly again, as if Tim's words just activated all of his "taking-care-of-people-via-tea" senses. He nodded eagerly and looked over to Jon, who was too tired to scowl in full force anymore.

"And a Paracetamol." Martin agreed, before leaving the office.

"He hasn't even asked me if I want some tea..." Sasha asked, more confused than offended. "What did you do to him during that staring contest, Jon?"

"What?" barked Jon, extracting himself from Sasha's hold and throwing himself on his desk chair. "I didn't do anything to him, thank you very much."

"Oh but there are so many things you'd like to do." Tim said, and anger started bubbling up in Jon's throat as he turned his eyes towards him. "You drank so much last night you can barely hold yourself up now, boss?" he asked, innocently.

"Tim, for the love of everything good on this planet, stop. This is all your fault."

"What is?" Sasha asked, confused.

"Your big crush on Martin is my fault, or the fact that you got so drunk you told me all about it is?" teased Tim, and Jon wanted to get off his chair and throw himself towards him, but didn’t.

"WHAT?" shouted Sasha, and both Jon and Tim shooshed her.

"I don't have... a crush on Martin. I just think that he's a good person, and a good person can't work in this place of horror stories and insufferable people. That would be you, Tim."

Tim laughed. "Copy that, boss. But I'm sure that if you just told him he would.."

"No. And that's final. I don't want to engage in a romantic relationship with anyone, especially not my assistants, especially when there's so much work to do here. I think I just found some important information in Prentiss' case."

"Jon... likes Martin..." mumbled Sasha, probably talking to herself. "You idiot!" she exclaimed, turning towards Jon. "He likes you too! Hell, he almost broke his legs running to make you tea. And wasn't that your sweater he was wearing, the one you lost some time ago, "my favourite article of clothing" or whatever?"

"It totally was." said Tim, ever the helpful.

"So do something about that, Jon! What are you waiting for?"

"For the two of you to get off my office and do some actual work. Leave, now."

Sasha sighed and Tim stuck out his tongue at him, telling him something about how we only have one life and we should make the most of it. As Jon drank the too-good tea Martin has made for him, he admitted to himself that Tim was right and that he really should do something about that. The more persistant thought, though, was the fact that he was never going out drinking with Tim, ever again. He did not see, nor hear when the tape record clicked itself shut back.

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bookofmirth · 5 years

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Nesta & alcohol

To start this post off, I want to say that this is all coming from my own experience. I am not an expert on substance abuse, addiction, recovery, or anything like that. My experience is one experience among many, and it could have been much, much worse. With that said, I wanted to talk a bit about Nesta, the way she is drinking, and why Feyre & Co. can’t be expected to “just help” her. Mostly, I want to explain why I relate to her so much after acofas, and give a bit of insight into what her character might be experiencing, feeling, and thinking. (Also I started drafting this post immediately after acofas came out, but it was still too close to home to finish and post.)

This is something that I assume will come up in acotar4, that Nesta will have to deal with as she moves from being able to self-harm to being forced to abstain, or detox, or whatever it is will happen in the camps. So here goes.

tw for alcoholism, self-harm, suicidal ideation.

I have two examples of what it’s like when an alcoholic tries to stop drinking, and why an alcoholic drinking is not the same as your random friend who got wasted once last month. The first is my own, the second is from a memoir I read last year. Then I will pull it together to talk about Nesta.

I’m not going to get into the reasons why I started drinking excessively; that’s another story, but suffice to say that I was going through a really hard time that I’m just now coming out of. At my worst, I was drinking an average of two bottles of wine. Every night. Work night? Sure. At one point, my body stopped giving me hangovers, so I was definitely functional. When I was in London I drank two bottles of wine one night, got sick, slept for 6 hours, and then got up for my transatlantic flight with no problem. Remember when Feyre feels like shit in acofas and Rhys chides her for drinking one (1) bottle by herself? I doubled that, every single day of my life, for over a year.

When I tried to stop drinking, it was really difficult. For a while, I tried to reduce my drinking. If I hadn’t had a drink by 5pm, it was a successful day. Of course, that still left me all evening to get drunk. So I would try to push it back, tell myself I wouldn’t start til 6, or I’d not drink wine until later, etc. I switched to beer for a while, because it’s more filling and harder to get drunk quicker. I tried to water down my wine. Of course not drinking wasn’t an option. It was a silly suggestion, really, to keep my drinking for the weekend, or to just have one or two drinks. I knew it was impossible. Once I started I wouldn’t stop, and I would always want to start.

The problem with this type of drinking is that it was an attempt to not think, to forget my pain, to avoid the anxiety that would have me up shaking at 3am, to forget the migraines I had developed due to stress. When I wanted to stop drinking, I was afraid - afraid the anxiety would return and I wouldn’t be able to sleep, that I wouldn’t be able to function, that I would be so goddamn sad while sober that I wouldn’t be able to live.

The other example I have is from the book The Recovering: Intoxication and Its Aftermath, by Leslie Jamison. In this memoir, Jamison also describes an experience in which not drinking is defined by thinking about drinking. There is a lot of fear of what not drinking means - it’s not just that this thing goes away, but your entire life might change. She talks about being so drunk she ends up in the middle of nowhere with a strange man who sexually assaults her. She talks about being afraid that alcohol is what makes her a good writer, what makes her creative (a fear I have shared). She’s afraid that she doesn’t really have a good enough reason, not enough pain to be a drunk. And drinking becomes such a part of her routine that it’s more remarkable when she isn’t drunk than when she is.

So what does this have to do with Nesta?

Feyre drinking a bottle of wine one night was an anomaly. It was weird. She felt like shit because she wasn’t used to it. It was noteworthy because she rarely did it. She drank because she was having fun with friends.

That’s not at all what Nesta is doing. Along with the sex with random men, Nesta is not drinking because she wants to have a good time. Nesta is drinking because she is in pain. She is in a new world, she barely recognizes her family, they seem to have chosen all of these fae over her, she has a new body and powers, her father died and she hasn’t mourned properly, and she found herself willing to die for someone who wasn’t Elain. All of that is pretty terrifying, and Nesta is the last person in this series I would say is capable of handling stressful situations with aplomb.

Alcohol for Nesta is a coping mechanism, and not all coping mechanisms are good.

Yoga? Good. Meditation? Good. Therapy? Good. Taking doctor-prescribed meds? Good. Drugs? Bad. Alcohol? Bad. Sex with random men? Bad, in this case.

What this comes down to is that Nesta is self-harming. Even if she isn’t cutting herself or trying to kill herself, she is knowingly, intentionally putting herself in harm’s way. Even if ultimately, as a fae, she can’t be harmed by the alcohol, that doesn’t mean she isn’t doing her hardest to put bad things into her body, and spend time with people who would harm her as soon as fuck her.

When Feyre & Co. do that intervention, that’s pretty much the only choice they have left. It is so, so damn hard to break that cycle of behavior, especially if she doesn’t want to. What it will come down to is Nesta healing, and deciding for herself that she needs to stop this behavior. Even then, it’s not going to be easy. The real world is terrifying, and that’s what she has to deal with. In the immortal words of Buffy Summers, “the hardest thing in this world is to live in it”. Feyre & Co. can’t really handle Nesta with kid gloves and gently guide her to healing. They have done everything they can, in fact they have enabled her bad habits, and now it’s time for them to show her that they care in the only way left, the only way they can - to tell her that this behavior is not sustainable.

In acotar4 I am hoping that sjm handles Nesta’s self-harm behaviors in a thoughtful way. I have no reason to think that she won’t, but I think that this humanized Nesta, for me. It’s not just that she’s lashing out - she’s lashing out because she’s scared, she doesn’t have control of her own life, and she doesn’t know what else to do.

Finally, just to reiterate, there is nothing wrong with drinking in and of itself. There is nothing wrong with going out with your friends, playing Cards Against Humanity drunk, or unwinding after work. There is, however, something wrong when drinking becomes a way to deal with your problems.

*****

Before anyone asks, I am much better now! For a few months now. Yes I do drink, but not before a work day. Just getting that far was a long process, but I’ve found that road back to “I’m drinking because I want to have fun”, instead of “I’m drinking to obliterate myself and forget my pain”. I deleted a lot of this post that was related to my personal experience because it’s still just really hard to talk about, and I also don’t want people to be worried if the see me drinking on the weekend! That’s just part of my new balance. Jamison’s memoir also talks about moderation instead of going cold turkey, and how the thinking around that needs to change.

#acotar #acofas #nesta #tw alcohol #tw self harm #my meta #personal #phew this was long #it's been in my drafts over a year #also I think it might put drinking into context #for younger readers who aren't familiar #with why or how this type of drinking is a problem

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marvelsbestsuperheroine · 5 years

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Waiting - IronWidow Request

TonyNat angst with a happy ending? Natasha's secretly in love with Tony but she thinks after his break-up with Pepper, he would never even try to love again. She was wrong.

A/N. Hello! Apologies for the delay. My laptop is no longer usable and I need a new one. I’m posting this on mobile and I’m still getting used to the formatting so forgive me if it looks weird. I’ll work on the next request as soon as I can.

- Rose

Tony and Pepper’s split was highly publicized. For ten years, it was impossible to get a public appearance of Tony Stark without spotting his assistant Virginia Potts somewhere in the background, running the show and overall just keeping everything together. Over the course of Ms. Potts’ tenure there had been rampant speculation about her and Mr. Stark. Her progression to CEO of Stark Industries was not a quick one but even then people speculated that she only got the job because of Stark’s fondness for her.

And it was true. He was fond of her. But that wasn’t why he made her the CEO in 2010. She was truly the most capable candidate with the most experience and highest qualifications. But most importantly, she had proven time and time again that she was trustworthy, something Tony valued her highly for.

They did get together not long after her promotion, which sent rumours flying. But neither of them cared that much what the paparazzi had to say. They needed to have good PR for the company, sure, but they didn’t have to believe anything that was said.

For a while, they had a good relationship. Tony put his all into being there for her. He dropped hundreds of thousands of dollars, maybe millions, to make Pepper happy. Anything she wanted, he would give her, even things she maybe didn’t want but Tony thought she might appreciate. They communicated openly and were honest with each other. But like every couple, they had their problems.

As Iron Man grew in popularity, so too did Tony Stark. As Tony Stark became more Iron Man, he became less involved in Stark Industries. When the Avengers formed, Pepper was happy that Tony finally had people he could talk to about the whole superhero thing. But then Tony became busier than ever, more traumatized, more hurt more often. Pepper worried herself sick over him constantly. His myriad of pre-existing issues intensified the more traumatic events he had to live through and she hated watching him suffer. Watching was a suffering on its own.

After the battle of Sokovia, when Tony broke his promise of toning down his obsession with the suits and when he accidentally built an evil robot that nearly destroyed the world, Pepper asked for a break. Nothing permanent. Just time apart to reflect and be alone.

Tony had resisted. Hard. He’d put his foot down, dragged his other foot behind him, and threw a tantrum when nothing else worked. That had been the last straw. Pepper didn’t want to marry someone who still had tantrums like a child.

So she packed up her things and left and Tony kicked himself until he was blue and broken. When he stopped to think about it, he picked himself back up and vowed to win her back. He threw himself into his work - not as Iron Man but as Tony Stark, owner of Stark Industries and major player in the clean energy sector and liaison between the U.S. government and the Avengers. He hoped that signing the Sokovia accords would relieve him of some of his duties as Iron Man, that maybe then Pepper would see that he was trying to compromise, to make it work... for her.

Natasha watched all of this with a careful and sneaky eye, never snooping too much but always prying a little more than strictly necessary. Her heart broke for Tony, who had nothing but good intentions and a desire to save the world and everyone in it. She knew better than anyone what it was like to try to redeem yourself. She also knew how people who got too close could hurt you the most and she sympathized. There had never been anyone after Alexei, never anyone who could even come close. Steve was her closest friend and confidant but even then she kept him at arm’s length. He was too good for her, anyway.

But Tony... Tony was a deeply flawed human being. He was broken in ways that Natasha wasn’t and vice versa. He was an addict. He could be so single-minded that it blinded him to anything else. He was impulsive. He was cocky.

Natasha was in love with him. And she couldn’t for the life of her understand why. It had been years - years - since Natasha had felt like this. But she was fascinated by him, utterly entranced. Nothing would please her more than to hug him and tell him that everything would be okay.

So she sided with him in the civil war to come. She had her own reasons too. But if she was being honest with herself, at least a small part of her just wanted to stand by his side and say, ‘I’m here for you’. He didn’t seem all that grateful, so wrapped up was he in his longing for Pepper.

Natasha knew, then, that whatever she felt for Tony would never come to fruition. Tony pined for a woman who complemented him in every way, a woman who was his polar opposite, a good woman with no shady pasts or murderous ways. A woman he could trust. If there was one thing to be said about Natasha that everyone agreed on, it was that she wasn’t very trustworthy.

In the end, she had proven that to Tony in the worst way possible by betraying him to side with Steve, the one man who had put all of his trust, all of his faith in her.

When the dust was still settling, after breaking the other Avengers out of the Raft, Natasha paid Tony one final visit to say good-bye and to apologize. She found him in his bedroom, two bottles deep into a stupor, one eye still back and blue and one arm still strung up in an awkward position. It struck her then, just how alone Tony must feel. His best friend was in the hospital recovering from being paralyzed, his girlfriend of four years had left him, the team he’d called a family abandoned him...

Natasha folded herself to climb through his window and he let her. What was the point in stopping her? He had nothing now. It had all back-fired in his face.

She sat on the floor next to him, cross-legged. For a while, they sat together in the darkness and said nothing. He continued to drink and all the while the room only smelled worse (which is why Natasha left the window open).

“I’m sorry,” she finally said. “For everything.” Her whispers seemed like screams in the silence.

Tony took a while to respond. “I should be angry,” he croaked, taking another swig. “But I can’t feel anything. I should hate you with my whole being. You betrayed me when I needed you most. I wish I could hate you. I want to hate you. But why can’t I?” He pondered this as he took yet another swig, finishing the bottle and then letting it roll away from him.

“You can,” she said quietly back and tugged her knees in towards her chest. “You should.”

He shook his head. “I can’t. I can’t because I understand why you did it and all it does is make me hate myself for putting you in that situation in the first place.”

“Tony...”

“Am I a horrible person?” He turned to look at her with sunken eyes, red-rimmed and watery. His head hung low, heavy with the weight of the world.

“No, Tony,” she assured and scooched closer. They sat with their backs against the end of the bed, their hips touching. “You’re just a man looking for redemption.”

He buried his face in his hands. “I thought I had it. For Christ’s sake, I thought I had it. I had the perfect girlfriend and I stopped my company from selling illegal arms to the enemy and I became a freaking superhero and I worked okay with the others and-” He was shaking.

Natasha hesitated. She wasn’t very good at this stuff. But she wanted to try. She slowly wrapped an arm around his shoulders and soothed him, rubbing his back and holding him close.

“Why are you here?” He asked suddenly, clamming up.

Natasha froze. “Me?” She repeated stupidly. “I, uh, I’m... I’m here to...” Her first instinct was to lie. But he didn’t deserve that. Not after everything. “I’m here to apologize.”

He gave her a disbelieving look.

“No, I’m serious. Look, watch.” She pulled back a little so she could more easily look him in the eyes. “I’m sorry, Tony. For everything. I never wanted to hurt you and Pepper was a fool to leave you, especially like this.” Too honest, she panicked. Too honest!

Tony merely blinked. “You think Pepper made a mistake?”

The hope in his eyes made Natasha’s gut sink. Nonetheless, she agreed. “Yeah.”

And then he was kissing her, warm lips pushing firmly against hers, clumsy hands pawing at her hair and his weight shifting to lean over her, to knock her over. She let him and they tumbled to the floor in a heap, toppling the other empty bottle and making it roll away. His breath reeked of alcohol but she didn’t mind.

It felt so good to be passionate like this. She had forgotten what it felt like not to fake it, to let it happen spontaneously, naturally. It was addicting, like inhaling a drug and feeling immediate effects. She opened her mouth to let in more, guided his hands to her hips, pulled him closer.

She didn’t stop to think because thinking would mean stopping and she didn’t want this to ever end. Whatever the consequences, she would deal with them. But for now she let herself enjoy this, let Tony have this. Together, they shared a night without regret or guilt, something they both sorely needed.

—————

Natasha woke up to a man she had pined over for years naked beneath her and playing with her hair.

“Morning, beautiful,” he said.

Her answering smile was so bright that it looked as if it made Tony’s hangover even worse. He kissed her anyway.

“Good morning,” she returned and snuggled closer, pulling him tighter and vowing never to let go. “How are you feeling?”

“In pain,” he replied honestly, “but happier. Just knowing that someone thinks it was Pepper who made the mistake and not me... It gave me a lot of my self-confidence back.”

“Oh,” said Natasha, wondering if she should be disappointed.

“You valued me,” he continued. He stared up at the ceiling as he spoke but he was most definitely speaking to her in an impossibly intimate sort of way. “And you had faith in me. Even when I fucked up, you had faith in me. And I... I can’t possibly begin to explain what that means to me.

“And you’ve shown me that there’s a world outside of Pepper. That if I don’t get her back I can still....”

Natasha wanted to say that she wouldn’t be his second choice. But she knew in her heart that she would. If he asked her, she would. Because she didn’t feel this way about anybody else and she didn’t deserve anyone at all, let alone this kind, generous, selfless man whose bed she was lying in.

Oblivious to her inner turmoil, Tony plowed on. “I still love her. I’ll always love her. And I’m not ready for anything else just yet. But tonight- er, last night... you helped me. I’ll remember that. Maybe someday I’ll be ready but-”

“I’ll wait,” she blurted, not registering that her brain and mouth didn’t seem to be communicating very well.

Tony shifted to get a better look at her. “You will? Cause I think someday I could be ready for whatever “this” is but not today. Someday. You’ll wait?”

Their eyes locked. In his, she saw only sincerity and a broken man whose fractures matched her own.

“I will,” she promised. “I’ll wait.”

#fanfiction #marvel #mcu #iron man #black widow #ironwidow #prompt

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clansayeed · 4 years

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Bound by Circumstance ― Chapter 18: Let Me Do You This Kindness

PAIRING: Nik Ryder x trans*M!MC (Taylor Hunter) RATING: Mature

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

⥼ Bound by Circumstance ⥽

Taylor Hunter (MC) has made it good for himself in New Orleans; turns out moving to a new city fresh out of college to reinvent yourself isn’t as hard as people make it out to be. Things only start to get confusing when he finds himself the target of a malevolent wraith. Good thing someone’s looking out for him though — because without Nighthunter Nik Ryder as his bodyguard he definitely won’t survive long in the twisting darkness of the supernatural underworld he’s tripped into.

Bound by Circumstance and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing dramatic retelling project of the book Nightbound and the rest of the Bloodbound series. Find out more [HERE].

Note: Circumstance only loosely follows the events and plotline of Nightbound, and features a separate antagonist, different character motivations, and further worldbuilding.

*Let me know if you would like to be added to the Circumstance/series tag list!

⥼ Chapter Summary ⥽

The Fate intervenes.

[READ IT ON AO3]

“You were there — you were watching us at Prytania Street.”

“In a way, yes and no.”

“It can’t be both. I saw you there.”

“Yes, I was witness to the events of which you speak. But no, I was not there as you were there; on the physical plane. I bear witness to all things. That is my purpose and my burden.”

“You could have done something.”

“You are mistaken, halfling child.”

“Bullshit. That’s—That’s bullshit. Its an excuse to justify doing nothing!”

“If that is what you choose to believe I cannot stop you, only try to sway your mind.”

“Well you won’t.”

“The world’s belief that I am capable of more than giving testimony is a false one. I cannot change the course of what is to be, no more than you can. I see every outcome, every possibility — every path from the moment it is built reaching out into oblivion.

“Who walks those paths — who has the ability to forge them new or break the chain — that is up to the individual. Certain roads will always be taken, yes. But the forces making those decisions were here long before me and will exist long after I am gone.”

He’s angry. And because he’s angry he’s indignant — he doesn’t want to believe them. Not when they speak in the voice of a forgotten child or a lost lover or someone whose time has come yet they find themselves filled with only bitter regret.

Always with the same golden eyes.

The weight of his breath sends Taylor’s body into tremors of emotion. Things he knows all too well — despair, guilt, self-blame — and things he has no name for; might never have a name for in any human language.

They overwhelm him until they don’t. Until he can look at each and every face of The Fate and speak.

“I don’t remember. Why don’t I remember?”

It’s his voice, his tongue curling around the words formed on his lips. But they aren’t his. They’re just sort of pulled out of him like they were trapped deep in his belly on a string.

Words that come not from the mind but from some place deeper. Those dying embers he thinks may have once been called his soul.

The Fate turns their wrinkled face away.

He knows this emotion. Shame.

“Why don’t I remember?” he asks again.

Doesn’t know where he is, or how he got here, or what it all means. But like hell he’s going to move or be moved without an answer.

“I thought it would be kinder.”

Their new voice wavers. A new face looks back at Taylor — creases in a frown that will settle into lines of age eventually, but not quite yet; thinner lips, yet hands still youthful. They look so much like his mother it hurts.

Thought what would be kinder? What happened? Where is everyone? Where is Nik?

All very important questions. All answers he first wants, then craves, then needs in order to remember how to breathe.

Instead he just whispers a weary “please,” because they both know what it is he’s pleading for.

But The Fate is reluctant — that much is obvious. “I would rather you understand before I did.”

“Understand…?”

“That I am merely the storyteller. Not the book, not the author, just a voice reading from the pages.”

This again. Can they blame him for being skeptical? For thinking someone with a name like The Fate might have a say in the order of the universe, in who lives and who dies?

“If I tell you I believe you, will you give me back my memories?” Will you explain? Will it all make sense?

“Would you be lying to me, Taylor Hunter?”

“You’re The Fate — wouldn’t you know?” Then, met with only silence, he does the only thing that feels right. He just shrugs. “I don’t know. I don’t — I don’t, okay? I’ve been asked to believe in a lot of impossible things lately, but this… this is more than that, and that makes it harder.”

Because if The Fate really has no say in the way things have been then that means they have no say in the way things end.

The Coven Elders do.

His friends do.

He does.

But not someone who could make it all better.

And that’s terrifying.

“So I don’t know,” he repeats, “and that’s my final answer.” Not the right or wrong answer, but the final one.

He’s met with a chilling reality when The Fate reaches out their hand and he takes it and feels home. The Fate doesn’t just look like his mother; they are wearing her face.

It’s a useless epiphany though.

Because he remembers.

What’s an extra hour or two?

The difference between life and death.

By the time he notices the familiar figure of The Fate standing just off stage left it’s too late.

The screams, the crackle and POP of a spotlight sending sparks showering down onto the stage, the heat and flames and smoke choking the breath out of him — those all came later.

First came the explosive bang of double doors opening at the back of the theatre. If there was ever an apt time for an actor to fumble their lines it was then.

He still hated Antoni, the prick, but gave credit where credit was due — a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it beat in between stanzas and Oberon was right back in the depths of his monologue.

Second was the gust of wind that turned heads — Taylor’s included — to the draft coming through the gaping doorway. It reeked of revelry and jaegerbombs with just a hint of despair.

Taylor was convinced that last bit was his imagination having a last-ditch effort to try and ruin his happiness. Stupid, stupid boy he was; turning back to the stage like that.

Third came thunk. thunk. thunk.

He could recall, if only vaguely, the rehearsal where Daphne suggested imitating the Globe Theatre in London. She wanted to engage with the audience as Puck and the director loved it.

Her last big entrance was from the back of the theatre, right — he’d forgotten.

Thunk. thunk. thunk.

Daphne came barreling down the sloping path — collided with the stage with wet noise.

Or… her head did.

And it rolled in classic horror-movie gothic to stare lifelessly at the audience. Eyes milky white, veins blackened and bulging under tissue paper skin.

What came next doesn’t matter. If the curtain caught fire before or after Theseus fainted from terror didn’t matter.

The only thing that mattered was the wretchedly familiar grotesque hovering in the entryway — the shadow it cast stretching long, mangled limbs out towards them.

The bloodwraith let out a screeching howl that shattered glass, incited fire, sent the entire space into a pitch darkness only to glow and flicker with hungry flames.

I’m sorry. His first and only thought.

Nothing else The Fate gave back to him mattered.

“Holy shit — am I dead?!”

Taylor uses the thought to grapple back onto the present and pull himself together. Doesn’t even think about whether or not he should be using that kind of language in front of a very very old supernatural being but okay maybe he’d been a little premature in the ‘nothing else’ department.

If he was dead that definitely mattered. Because if he was dead Nik was going to kill him.

When The Fate readjusts themselves — a refined and more calm way of saying ‘recovers from whiplash’ — they reassure him with a small shake of the head, silvery wisps on a balding head shaking out to perfect and natural curls. “No, you are not dead.”

“Oh thank god,” he whistles low, but its the relief that catches him by surprise. And not just because he doesn’t have to worry about being chewed out by a surly Nighthunter.

He’s actually relieved to be alive. Or at least not dead. One of those things he wouldn’t normally perturb the semantics over but given everything that’s happened it only seems right.

“Am I alive?”

“In a way.”

“That’s a yes or no question. Please let that be a yes or no question.”

It takes Taylor a moment (his brain is catching up as quick as it can, yeesh) but when it becomes clear The Fate, powerful ethereal being witness to everything until the end of time, is amusing themselves with his reactions he tries his best not to give any.

He fails, of course, but he tried his best.

“Yes, halfling child, you are alive.”

“And —” Nik? Elric? Vera? Cal-Kathy-Cadence? Garrus-Krom-Ivy? “— everyone else?”

“Is there one for whom your concern is greatest?” It sounds almost clinical; doesn’t help that they now sound eerily similar to his hormone therapy physician.

Maybe they hoped Taylor would have to think about it. Maybe they wanted to see what makes him tick.

Too bad. “I’m not picking which of my friends I care about the most, if that’s what weird all-knowing trope you’re going for.”

“Not even your father is placed above them?”

“I barely know the guy. That answer it for you?”

The Fate gives a “hmm” and a nod. “Forgive me, I have never had such luxuries.”

“Family, friends?”

“Those as well. I see the bonds of the material made; thousands, millions in the spaces between heartbeats. But I do not feel them. I wish that I could.”

It rings wrong in his bones. Makes his blood curdle in his veins. “If you’re trying to justify preying on my fears to learn emotions, I’d say stop.”

“Is there a threat to be made?”

“No.” He’s not stupid — but he’s not just going to stand there and take it, either. “You didn’t answer my question. Are my friends — all of them — alive too?”

He can tell The Fate hesitates as one last test of wills. Still it doesn’t stop him from clapping a hand over his mouth when they finally nod.

“Thank god…”

They’d thought it would be safe. That they had time—however brief—to try and make the most of things; time together, the city in all her glory.

Taylor doesn’t realize they’ve been walking together, a simple man and Fate, until he stops and looks out of one of the large windows lining the hallway.

Outside is beautiful. It’s a lacking word but the only one that comes to mind. It’s the kind of sunset that people write entire poems and songs about because they can’t think of a simple one-word description either. So it’ll do.

He drinks it in — the vibrant sunset that reaches long tendril fingers of pinks and oranges across the sky and continues on and on and on into an endless horizon. Bright enough to illuminate dust motes hovering practically immobile in the still air around him. Even his heavy and awestruck breathing doesn’t disturb them.

Like he isn’t even there.

And it occurs to him like an afterthought that if he left this place to commune with that sherbet sky he’d never find the end. There’s a peace in that.

He could ask the obvious; where are we, how did we get here, what does it all mean, but instead he focuses on the things he does know rather than what he doesn’t. “You brought us here.”

“Yes.”

And he hadn’t planned it at all; the trap The Fate has so willingly fallen into. But there it is.

“That means you intervened.” He turns away from the world beyond only because he has to. Catches their ever-changing face in the sunset’s light. “I thought you couldn’t intervene.”

When they finally answer the words are chosen with care; careful not to reveal too much, careful not to make promises unable to be kept. “I did not change the course of what is to come; that is beyond me. But it is not beyond you, and so the lines blur. If you could be guided, or given more time, or protected from a death thought previously inevitable, then perhaps you could enact that change with your newfound advantages.”

His mouth twists ruefully. “You’re telling me you found a loophole in destiny?”

“Of a sort.”

“And you choose now to do it? That’s…” For once in his life Taylor thinks before he speaks; to his benefit. “Unless this isn’t the first time you’ve done it.”

The Fate looks at him with the eyes of a child again; a disturbingly profound wisdom looking him over as if in a new light. “There are very few places in the puzzle of time where I may fit.”

“So all that stuff you said about being an observer — what you’re saying is that’s a load of crap.”

“Would I have told you then what little I could do, would you have believed my interference so small?”

They’ve got a point. “No.”

“Then you see why these revelations take time.”

Maybe he does. That doesn’t change the truth, though. Doesn’t change the thoughts racing through his mind; thoughts of the dozens, hundreds of things that have happened that could have been changed in some little way. Changed had they had more time, or if they’d known more.

Or if he hadn’t been protected.

If Nik hadn’t been in the graveyard, Taylor would be dead. He was there, and at the bar, because…

“You hired Nik to protect me. You were the one on the other end of the phone line.”

“Yes.”

“Did it make a difference? No—No it couldn’t have. You said you couldn’t change it. You —”

“All that is meant to unfold still will. If not as swiftly as the witches had hoped.”

“So all you did was prolong the inevitable.”

“All I did?” his question played back to him in a voice rusted with time, incredulity on The Fate’s new leathery features, “You think so narrowly. What have you changed, what have you incited?”

“The Elders are still —”

“What. have. you. done.”

“I —” Is it any wonder he falters under the intensity of that stare; the weight of their words bearing down on him heavier than anything he’s tried to carry before?

Fine. What has he done?

He’s hurt Garrus by bringing Elric to the show.

He’s brought Garrus and Krom closer.

He’s put Vera in danger.

But given her a chance to reconcile with her mother.

He’s the reason Cal was cast out from his pack.

And the reason Donny is still alive.

Stop it, Taylor wants to say, because there’s no way that annoying voice in his head contradicting everything he’s thinking is him. It’s them — they’re in his mind.

But he’s heard dozens of voices from dozens of their lips; none of them have sounded like him.

And only his voice is ringing between his ears.

“If I’d died in the cemetery that night — would any of those things have happened? Be honest.”

“I see all outcomes; the realms in which they did happen and those where they did not.”

“Okay, so —”

“But because of you, Taylor Hunter, they did. And that cannot be undone.”

Taylor reels at the very thought of it. Talk about daring to disturb the universe. But all those things — they’re speaking of the past, of the present.

What about the future?

“Was it enough, though?” Was it enough to make a difference? Enough to save them? Enough to win?

Instead of answering with words The Fate reaches up, out. Doesn’t let up even though Taylor recoils (for good reason) at the weight of permanence that hangs around them in an unseen aura. According to The Fate themselves there are versions of this story where he dies; is already dead.

And knowing that doesn’t scare him nearly as much as being touched by someone who has seen it happen.

“Those who seek to change destiny always fail,” — something so morbid and hopeless shouldn’t sound so reassuring — “because it will always lie out of their reach. They never understand how to bring it closer. Now you do.”

The warmth of the sunset beyond prickles the back of Taylor’s neck. But even basking in the glow as they have been The Fate’s fingers are cold as ice.

Cold with the weight of the sorrows they’ve seen.

Wherever they are stretches out infinitely on either side of them. He hasn’t seen another soul this entire time. Knows somewhere deep inside himself that no matter how many halls he sees, no matter how many doors he opens, they reside here together. Alone.

So why then does he whisper? Who the hell knows.

“If you’ve seen all the terrible ways this could end… why do it? Why try?”

“Because,” they smile and suddenly Taylor sees why every other part of them is cold; to compensate, “I have hope.”

How, how can they have hope when they know what’s coming? “Hope for what?”

“Hope that you will prove me wrong.” You can change what is to come.

“Talk about your unrealistic expectations.” How?

“It has been done before — however rare.” You already know how.

But he doesn’t.

He doesn’t.

He —

He watches Cal with his arm over Vera’s shoulder — holding her close, pressing his mouth into her hair more a gesture of comfort than a kiss. To remind her the warmth of another body is close. That she isn’t alone.

A bright light flashes in front of his eyes, blinds him. Taylor tries to pull back but the EMT squeezes his shoulder and keeps him in place. “Not yet, bud, just try and follow the light okay?”

It doesn’t really make sense to keep staring at the thing that makes it harder to see but he does what he’s told. Follows the pen light left to right and up to down because that’s what they need of him right now.

“Your friends said you took a pretty hard hit.” He can feel the gloved hand on the back of his head feeling around for a lump, a cut, blood — anything.

Definitely more than the nothing he gets that’s for sure.

“Do you remember anything like that?”

No, he doesn’t. He only remembers silvery curls and an insistent understanding that he’s capable of more than he thinks. But those thoughts aren’t his.

It’s with reluctance that the EMT lets him jump from the back of the ambulance with the closest thing to a clear bill of health.

“Rook!”

Thank god he hears Nik only when there isn’t a stethoscope on his chest because surely his heart stops beating.

Taylor turns, doesn’t have the time to brace himself before he’s inhaling leather. Isn’t smothered by it at all — in fact it helps calm him more than expected.

Then Nik’s looking him over — touching the back of his head and holding up his arms; looking for cuts and bruises and any sign that he’s less than one hundred-percent okay. “Did you get checked out? Why the hell would they let you go? If they’d seen the way your head bounced off that concrete wall they’d be thinkin’ differently. Fuckin’ hell, they…” Just like the EMT he feels nothing, though. But this time Taylor isn’t let off the hook so easily.

“What the hell? There ain’t even a bump.”

“I hit my head?” he asks; realizes it’s the wrong thing to say when Nik’s eyes widen.

“You don’t remember? Shit — we’re gettin’ you to the hospital.”

“I don’t need a hospital.”

“I beg to differ!”

“If you’d —” Taylor actually has to smack the flurry of Nik’s concerned hands away, “— just stop for a sec’? Please!”

Even in the chaos of grief and seemingly fruitless attempts to restore order Taylor is loud. Manages to get more than a few heads turned his way — some that look between him and Nik in rising suspicion. He takes the man’s hand and pulls him off to the side before any of it becomes a thing.

They find the one police car without the overhead lights flashing. Away from the crowd swarming, from people who secretly wished they could be paid to learn what happened and grieve for it. Despite being entirely removed from the situation they are moths; the cruisers that bathe them in reds and blues are their flame.

Nik wastes no time. “You’re starting to scare me Taylor,” and he believes it with or without Nik using his name, “if somethin’ happened to you, somethin’ medical, we gotta —”

“Nik,” he insists again, “stop talking.” Cups his hands along a chiseled jaw and brings the man down to kiss him like that’ll explain everything. In a perfect world, maybe.

But even annoying as he’s being right now Taylor can’t hold it against him. He cares — in his own weird way sure — but he does.

They part for air but he allows strong hands to keep him close.

“I only just got back,” he mumbles almost breathlessly, “I don’t need you jumping down my throat.”

“Wait—what?”

“I —”

There’s a tickle on his forehead as Nik’s brow furrows. “No I heard ya. But you didn’ — we were here the whole —” Lucky for them both when, somewhere in the middle of those half-formed explanations and racing thoughts, he remembers that he’s Nik Ryder; Nighthunter.

“Got back from where?”

“Not here.”

“Yes, here.”

“Nik.”

Taylor would like to believe he relents because of trust, but knows the far more likely explanation is exhaustion. But he does and that’s what matters. “Okay Rook, okay. Your turn to call the shots.”

“First we need to get everyone together. I saw Vera and Cal, but…”

“Kathy an’ Cade were still givin’ statements last I checked. Iv’, Krom, and Garrus hightailed it before the cops showed up. Wait—you’re really sayin’ you don’t remember any of this?”

“Stay focused. Where’s Elric?”

“With them. He was out cold, hurt bad from the looks of it.”

Taylor’s heart straight-up stops beating. “Did the wraith —?”

“No Rook, no he, uh, he took a fallin’ rigging for you. Pushed you right outta the way and that’s how you hit your head. I really don’t like —”

“Later. We can’t go back to the Shift.”

“Well there we agree.”

“There’s my place, but —”

“No, nowhere connected to any of us. The Elders could’a hexed the place.”

“Suggestions, maybe?”

“Well damn Rook — not like I’ve got a map of secret warded places I can just pull outta my ass—actually…” Nik changes his tune so fast Taylor gets whiplash. But he knows the thoughtful look in those dark eyes well enough by now that he dares to have just a little bit of hope.

Why try?

Because I have hope.

By the time he’s pulled out of his brief recollection of The Fate, Nik is pulling him by the hand back into the crowd. They spot the beacon of Cadence’s towering head over everyone else and find the others still recuperating on the curb where he stands guard.

Cal spots Taylor and immediately tries to stand — but he’s leaning far too much to the right to be moving so fast. Katherine catches him, eases him back down with admonishing words.

“What did the EMT just say?”

“Yeah yeah, I ain’t a cub Kathy.”

“Then pay attention next time — to what they’re saying, not to their asses.”

Vera reaches for Taylor like a source of comfort. He takes her hand and squeezes; feels the warmth of her through blue medical latex in a way her usual silk doesn’t allow. Wordlessly she holds up a long scrap of familiar fabric as explanation.

Whatever Cadence had planned on saying, it catches on his tongue to be swallowed back down. Something makes his face turn away with a crinkle in his nose.

“No offense Taylor, but you smell like mold on vellum.”

“Huh?” Cal sniffs the air and comes to a similar conclusion. “Reminds me of the shed Kristof keeps his pelts in — like… dust and mothballs.”

“Uh…” what the hell does somebody say to that, “I’m sorry?”

“Just thought you ought to know.”

“Actually — speakin’ of all that research you do, Smith,” everyone looks at Nik like he’s grown a second head, but no one can match Cadence’s bewilderment; since that has less than nothing to do with the attack that’s left them reeling.

“What about it?”

“Any chance you know if the Saint Louis has still got that, uh, preservation sigil still in the stones?”

“Sure. That whole block of Chartres does.”

Katherine’s eyes narrow suspiciously. “Ryder, what are you thinking?” But he ignores her carelessly.

“Includin’ your office?”

“Yes but — Oh.” Epiphany crosses his face and makes his glasses slide down to the tip of his nose.

And though it may be just as annoying to be on the outs of something Nik, Cadence, and even Katherine with her slow nod of understanding seem to know that the rest don’t — there’s a comfort to it. Like they’re all back in the Shift shotgunning ideas on a chalkboard and not scrambling for a place to hide.

“I hadn’t thought of that,” the way Katherine says it though — it’s like a self-directed insult, “why didn’t I think of that?”

“Think we’ll all fit?” asks Nik.

Cadence gives everyone a calculating look, seemingly taking measurements. “I don’t see why not, so long as you don’t mind a bit of clutter.”

Kathy doesn’t even bother covering her snort, the derisive “Ha!” that earns her something like the vampire version of a pout. She remains unfazed. “That’s putting it a little more than lightly…”

“It’s not that bad. You’re making me out to be a hoarder.”

“Let’s just hope no one’s claustrophobic.”

“Kathy!”

Admittedly Taylor doesn’t know a lot about vampires besides the basics; immortal, super fast, super strong, blood-is-life. But there’s more, isn’t there? There has to be.

For example — werewolves are pack animals. He can guess that vampires are less so. So what fills the void?

Because from what he’s seeing before him… they’re nesting creatures.

This is a nest, right? Please someone say this is a nest, that this is normal behavior. That somewhere else in the city Isadora de la Rosa is just chilling in a giant pile of stuff like some sultry dragoness and Cadence is just following some sort of undead instinct.

Otherwise this guy needs help. Like — Hoarders-level help.

Ryder’s reaction does nothing to ease his discomfort; giving an impressed nod as his eyes sweep the room; the piles… and piles… and piles…

“You’ve cleaned up,” he moves an old filing box with little ceremony to rustle himself up a place to sit; apparently its every butt for itself here, “and is that two walls I can see?”

There are two seats not actively serving as storage and Katherine beelines for it. Cal gets there first with some semblance of victory — though it’s short-lived.

“You’re in my spot.”

“Grow up. First come first serve.”

She repeats herself in an actual growl. “You’re in my spot, Lowell.”

Arms crossed over his chest, he snorts a derisive “I don’t see your name on it,” only to fumble for purchase when she grabs the chair-back with both hands and spins it around.

Her name actually is written on the back. And in very large, blocky permanent marker.

She doesn’t need to tell him a third time. Settles in like it didn’t even happen. Out of everyone gathered, Cadence included, she’s the only one who looks like she really belongs.

“Three guesses why that is.” She says to Nik. It doesn’t take the man long to connect the dots.

“I’d’ve given some money to catch a glimpse of spit-shined Raines in this disaster.”

“Enough!” The vampire groans; finishes clearing up the last of what appears to be an outdoor patio table for the rest of them to prop against. “Unless by some miracle my—admittedly disorganized—attempt at scouring centuries’ worth of documentation in my so-far fruitless pursuit of an identity is the key to vanquishing the threat at hand.

“If so then by all means, continue on!”

It doesn’t help that the awkward silence is broken only when a towering stack of loose papers slides passed the tipping point and collapses somewhere unseen.

“Fuck.”

He accepts his defeat and takes up the chair beside Kathy with a surprising amount of dignity.

But his tirade served more than just a single purpose. It reminds Taylor of why they had to find somewhere to regroup, why it had been necessary in the first place.

You already know how, The Fate had said. And with a surety that had blurred the boundaries of whatever reality they had been in while talking outside of time and space.

Cadence’s mess isn’t the answer.

But someone not-Taylor in the room just might be.

“Vera…”

You already know. And the first thing he sees when he comes back to himself is Vera crying on the curb. That’s not a coincidence. In fact he feels a sharp, almost icy clarity when his train of thought switches tracks.

When he remembers the last time she cried and knows — just knows — that everything going forward isn’t random chance. It’s all meant to be.

Wordlessly they clasp hands. If before they were only doing this together and for Kristin, the same can’t be said now.

Taylor begins with a soft “I’m sorry,” because what he’s going to ask her is hard but there’s no way around it; he tries to be kind because she deserves that much at the very least, “but I’m gonna need you to tell me… tell us, I guess… what exactly you meant when you said you, uh, recognized the bloodwraith.”

Where’s a falling stack of papers when you need one?

Directly following another attack isn’t the best time to ask something that heavy. Everyone’s thinking it, but either lacks the guts or has enough brains not to speak it aloud.

The longer they wait the less time they have. If their minutes in the hourglass aren’t borrowed already.

Taylor can’t imagine the amount of courage it takes for her to share. She’d already been one sneeze away from “no no never mind, I don’t wanna bother you with it, let it go please; for me” back in the apartment. He recalls a brief flash of relief when they were interrupted. Though that didn’t last long given the news.

He’s there, you know, if she wants a hand to hold. Hesitates that hand over her shoulder as he watches the woman close in on herself… and lets it fall.

By the time she’s ready Cadence has ducked out and returns with a tray of water glasses and steaming mugs of fragrant teas. Three sleeves of soda crackers once abandoned are now their equivalent of a replenishing snack after a long journey.

All of it a little too mundane for the conversation at hand.

Vera gives herself a few shaky breaths — and begins.

“You ever been to one’a those big family reunions; the kind where you don’t know more than half’a the people showin’ up but it’s a birthday or a funeral or the like and you don’t really have a say in the matter?”

Literal crickets.

Even when she looks at Cal for backup he shakes his head and offers a shrug as an apology. “The Pack may be big but we’re tight. It’s impossible not to know someone, even if it ain’t a face but a scent.”

“But we can imagine.” Katherine makes a ‘continue’ gesture without bothering to mask the haste. “Keep going.”

Vera does.

“You’re wrong there, Kathy. No’ne who ain’t born a Reimonenq can really get what happens when you get more than a dozen’a us in the same room. All with the same blood in our veins but any opportunity to marry out the family, to change the name with somethin’ more bindin’ than just a court order — they take it.

“Last one I went to was ma Mémé’s funeral. Nawlins funerals, you know how they are —” only this time Taylor’s the sole sore thumb but no one stops to explain, “— and since she ran the Reimonenq Clan everyone who once carried the name or could have done was bound by duty to attend.”

Wistful memory clouds her eyes for a long moment. Whatever memory it is can’t be a happy one, not by the tick in her brow. “Met my uncle for the first time there. I didn’ even know Momma had any siblings — and here come up walkin’ two. They could’a been any random strangers on the street but they were huggin’ me and tellin’ me about seein’ me as a baby and…”

Katherine makes a not-so-subtle noise and shifts in her chair until it squeaks loud enough for Cal to flinch. It’s her chair, bears her name. She knows exactly what she’s doing.

Before she can say anything Cadence tactfully intervenes.

“So sorry about that; the chair drowned Kathy out. I could be wrong — but I think she was about to ask the relevance of this story and the wraith.”

Vera nods with a startling lack of apology. “If I could skirt around it I would. But every way I’ve thought about… about how I felt when I looked it in the eyes? This is the only way I can make it make sense.”

“It’s okay Vee,” says Taylor, “say what you have to.” And if he doesn’t mind her taking her time because it gets him a better chance of reading her inside, of understanding not just the words on her lips but the ones on her soul, he definitely isn’t going to mention it.

“I could see that they were my blood. Hell they were the spittin’ image of Ton—of Momma before she took over ma Mémé’s operations. The shady… smoky kind. But I didn’t know ‘em. I was five weeks away from my move to New York—I didn’t want to know ‘em.”

“Did they have the…?” She looks at Ryder sharply, watches him mime his hands without rhyme or reason. Her nostrils flare in anger.

“No. Turns out the Reimonenq Curse is a picky lit’le thing; picks the first born — or the only born, in my case. I got why she didn’t keep in contact when I found that out.

“I didn’ know why it bugged me s’a much until later. ‘Cause I just couldn’t give rhyme or reason to how I could see so much’a myself in stranger’s eyes.”

A hush falls over the group. Within it — an understanding. No longer with the need to ask Vera to tie her story together because she’s actually a lot more intuitive than even Taylor previously gave her credit for.

And now those tears of hers — always justified, always — they’re more than that. They’re understood.

Vera had looked into the eyes of the bloodwraith. What she had seen was far worse than simple familiarity.

She’d seen a part of herself in the rotting void of its skull. Recognized something hereditary in scraps of rotting flesh stuck in the gaps between its mouthful of fanged teeth.

And she’s still fucking standing, she’s still sane?

Not that there was any competition but Vera Reimonenq was definitely just crowned the strongest of them all in a landslide victory.

She gives them each individual looks. As if daring any of them to try and play Devil’s advocate. But why would they? You don’t fake something that soul-crushingly awful.

“There’s more.”

Cal kicks back on the floor with a groan. “Any chance there isn’t?” He’s the only one who could get away with it though.

“I wish that were the case. I’d been tryin’ to find the right time to bring it up — turns out it just needed to be brought up for me.”

I’m sorry, says way Taylor pulls her in for a one-armed hug.

It ain’t your fault, replies the last weary quirk of her lips.

“I ain’t the only one.”

“Tonya,” supplies Cadence, and Vera’s wobbling bottom lip breaks all their hearts in unison.

“Yeah—Yeah Momma she… she felt it too. I could see it in her eyes. She won’t spare it a thought but I don’ believe in coincidences anymore. She an’ I both feelin’ the way we did, then that thing’s touch takin’ away her Curse —”

“Mary Mother of Christ!”

The vampire stands so fast his chair goes flying into a stack of boxes — lucky for them all whatever contents are heavy enough to stay standing.

At first Katherine looks worried beside him, though it dulls quickly into exasperation. “Folks and faes I give you the Drama King…”

“Not the bloody time.” The look in those ruby eyes is almost manic — just like they had been when Cade had tried infodumping on them at the Shift. Only this might be slightly more relevant — hopefully.

“Care to share?” Cal drawls.

Cadence pays him no mind; focuses only on Vera and gets her attention in turn. There’s almost anticipation in the way he whispers, “You figured it out, didn’t you?”

“Well I wasn’t sure — not until now. You knew him?”

“I had the misfortune.”

“And you were… around when the Coven retaliated.”

“Like I said,” he wipes the lenses of his glasses with such convenient timing he could only be avoiding meeting her eyes, “I had the misfortune.”

It isn’t long after that they realize no one else is even close to catching up to them. A silent back and forth emerges Cadence as the lucky soul burdened with explanation.

“We’ve been so focused on the what of the bloodwraith,” there’s no possible way he knows what stack to dig through, it has to be a diversion to remove himself from the heart of the matter; doesn’t stop him from nudging Nik aside and rifling through an open filing cabinet, “what it is, what it seeks, what it can do.”

Nik grumbles at Taylor’s side. “And that ain’t important?”

“No no — it is. But it… it gave us tunnel vision. Made us docile; we stopped asking questions. Aha —”

Cadence pries free a packet; the contents of which Taylor can’t see even if he squints.

But the text must not matter because he focuses instead on a carefully cut newspaper article attached to the front. The same old paper as his news spread on the war — ink the same faded black.

He can barely look at it, though. Offers it to Kathy’s awaiting hand. “The fire was too great not to make the paper. Carlo personally ensured the cause of the blaze was covered up but no one could keep the deaths quiet. The city only knew three young women perished — not that they were the Garden Coven’s newest blooded witches. And because that fact needed to be concealed at all costs… there were no consequences for him to face.”

“For who to face?” Taylor’s afraid to ask but someone’s gotta do it.

Vera’s voice cracks when she answers.

“My ancestor — Derek Reimonenq. The Bloody Hand.”

“And the tortured soul the Coven used to bind the bloodwraith to this world.”

#nightbound #vera reimonenq #choices nb #playchoices fic #nik ryder x mc #cal lowell #katherine nightbound #oc: cadence smith #nik ryder #nightbound mc #mc: taylor hunter #oblv: bound by circumstance #oblv: new chapter #; my fics

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restoringtheattic · 5 years

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Still navigating...

Hey y'all!

I'm back again! I'm going to attempt to reserve this post to "navigating life after Traumatic brain injury"

That is if my #tbi brain don't get the best of me and I start rambling about everything else 😂🙄

The organ which is the essence of everything I think and feel has been traumatically injured 😱

"Can I get a band-aid for my brain, please" 🙋

If only it were that simple, right? 🙄

I feel as a theif has broke into my skull and went through the cabinets and corners of my brain and has stolen my most important and precious belongings. Everything is fair game for brain injury to take and damage.

Now, it's been my ongoing mission to recover these things and place them back where they belong. But, like any good detective knows, this will not be easily done without some tenacious investigative work. 💪

When you recover these things, they are likely to be damaged. Maybe some missing parts. Broken and bruised. As you recover these items, you also have the task of attempting to place these things back EXACTLY where they were taken from. Impossible!

But, that's okay.🙏

I have to rearrange these items because I can't recall exactly where they were when they were taken from me. As I recover the pieces, I will arrange them back to something that looks similar to how it was before but not quite the same.

And thats okay 😊

"What if I don't find all the pieces that were stolen?!"

Well, that's okay too 😊 not without saying it can be incredibly hard to come to terms with not recovering your " missing parts". Our brains are banks that hold invaluable things, personality, emotions, memories, the very basis of how we function in life, the list is neverending. When these things are hijacked , the impact can be profound. But just maybe if we can learn to become more accepting of this "new normal" we can be more productive individuals. As for myself, Its an ongoing process to arrive at that "acceptance" destination. Which in part is what this blog is about 💕

I spent the first year or more after my injury in a sort of "Brain injury training course". Laying out the groundwork for my life that had been so suddenly rearranged. That year was undoubtedly the toughest, crawling my way around this new reality like a newborn. My emotions fluctuated, my reactions were intense. I was quick to respond without thinking anything through, and those responses weren't always nice 😡 Shout out to my family and friends for dealing with that for the first year, I'm positive I was a pain in the 🍑😂. (not to say I'm any less of a pain in the ass now 😂) With time and treatment, those things leveled out. 🙏

I withered so much time away being angry and asking "why me". Angry at myself, angry at God for "letting this happen", angry at the universe for letting me suffer. I felt as if the brain injury itself was just rotting away my mind.

It wasn't until I was talking to a former coworker I realized how negatively self absorbed I was being. I will be eternally grateful for that conversation and her bringing that issue to light.

"Lindsey, you've literally been given a second chance at life, your going to sit here and 🤬 waste it being mad at the world?".

I was offended at first! How could she say that to me?! I was injured, I was broken .

I had to sit with that thought for a minute before I responded (which proved I was capable of thinking before responding 😅) It didn't take me long to realize she was right. I needed to change my outlook. I was here, I had the tools to overcome this. I just had to put one foot in front of the other, so to speak 😊

I definitely still have many struggles, but so does everyone else. The world is not going to "give me a break" just because I have a brain injury.

The struggles I feel that impact me most are related to my physical appearance, but again, that's my own internalization of what I see in the mirror, not because anyone has told me I look weird or different. I'll be the first to tell you I'm not comfortable with what I see in the mirror when looking at my face (related to injuries from the accident) . Which is something I'm still working to overcome, with cosmetic surgery AND working within myself to make sure I have the right outlook- and that's OKAY 😊

The only person who can be responsible for how you will recover is yourself. I encourage anyone to always have the most optimistic attitude possible when it comes to yourself and how you bounce back.

Wherever you are in your recovery process, remember IT is OKAY. Progress, however slow or fast is still progress. Don't spend too much time in your own mind and think of things you could have done differently. These bodies that serve home to our souls are human, prone to damage, illness and error. There's nothing you could have done differently, you are where you're supposed to be. Brain injury isn't a "punishment", it's something that happens because we are human. God isn't up there handing out TBI punishment cards to us that misbehave on Earth (not to say you don't have to answer for your actions, but that's an entirely different blog post not related to this at all 🤨) with that being said it's up to you to deduct your own reasoning and purpose from your situation. As crazy as my journey has been, I can look back and identify a reason and purpose or lesson for every single tough time along the way.

As a final note, remember to laugh! 😂 laugh at everything, laugh at yourself if you have to (lord knows I do) there's definitely something therapeutic about finding humor in your own situation!

Thank you guys for reading!

Love and light to all of you🕯️❤️

As always, if there's anything I can ever help you with or discuss with you, just message me, find me on Facebook or Instagram, send a smoke signal etc...😂

IG: lindz_606

📧: [email protected]

#tbi treatment #tbisurvivor #neurosurgery #living with trauma #face trauma #eye trauma #traumatic brain injury

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virovac · 5 years

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Kyle’s Funeral

[ Man, I’m probably going to have to rewrite this to include more characters, huh? Most of this was written in season 2]

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Bow, Scorpia and Catra were the only ones willing, or able to give speeches

Bow talked about how it took him a few years after the war to fully understand what Kyle and the rest of the Horde orphans had experienced, only fully realizing the severity after working with the younger former cadets.

Scorpia spoke of Kyle's artwork, and how she regretted never getting to know one of the Horde's few other artists. She even showed those she thought were his best on a screen.

Lonnie tried to give a speech, but stopped after a few sentences; unable to continue.

Entrapta had planned to read out a list of things Shadow Weaver praised him on in her files, but was persuaded not to once it was explained most were backhanded compliments...and that no one wanted to think about Shadow Weaver. So she just sat in the audience.

Catra's was simple and to the point.

"He was smarter than anyone gave him credit for. There was a reason I cheated off him rather Rogelio or Adora."

****

The speeches were over, and people flitted about. Some went to view the open casket. Others like Adora, procrastinated.

“You know in a weird way, having you act disrespectful is kinda helping me cope.” Adora wore a smile of sad gratitude as she spoke.

Catra swirled her drink with a lazy twirling motion of the hand. “Better everyone be mad at me than focus on the sad.”

Adora shook her head. “I don’t think that will help the others. It will just distract them from getting closure. But you are helping me, so thanks and please don't try to cause trouble."

Catra calmly looked around, ready to drop this line of conversation.

She turned to Sea Hawk, who was looking at the options at the buffet.

"So how did you know the deceased?"

Sea Hawk jumped a bit, not having noticed her.

"Well, er, apparently I threw him. Unnecessarily, it turns out."

A dark grin sprouted on Catra's face.

"Pfft. Wow, I'm sure he'd really be happy to know you attended."

"Catra, be nice." Adora chastened. "He helped Entrapta try and track down Kyle where Kyle was born so he could be buried there."

"In the remains" was the unspoken part of that sentence. Knowing the Horde, It was doubtful Kyle came from anyplace that was still standing.

In the end, it was decided he would be placed in the cemetery closest to Lonnie's and Rogellio's apartment.

Catra didn't understand why they didn't just cremate Kyle like back in the Horde, but it wasn't her business.

Sea Hawk puffed out his chest and dramatically gave a mid-torso salute ."One of the saddest things that can happen for a sailor is to not be buried at home. I wish I had succeeded in helping this man to where he came from, but alas… the trail was too old and too cold"

After that there was some more brief smalltalk (the pirate got unusually open about his acceptance his body would likely never be recovered the day he met his end) then they let Sea Hawk be.

****

Sometime later Adora felt a question poke her brain. "Scorpia showed pictures of the art he left behind, some even from back in the Horde. I know he could probably swipe a pen; but where did Kyle get the supplies to do the colors?"

Catra looked uncomfortable, but tried to play it off with a shrug "I gave him our old stash right after Thaymore. Didn't have it in me to just throw it out."

Adora was a confusing mix of feelings. They had worked hard on developing that collection, grabbing anything they could find in the trash or fallen off a Horde transport that had been (in retrospect) bringing in ill-gained bounty.

But… it was nice to know that after their falling out at Thaymor, their prized collection still saw use.

****

Adora found Lonnie sitting on a rock, flicking through a datapad displaying scans of all of Kyle's drawings.

"You know, I always thought he wasn't all there. But... I think I'm emptier than he was. He had dreams. Not likely ones, but ... as the war went on the impossible seemed to happen every day."

Her gaze turned to the horizon.

"If he couldn't make it in peacetime, what chance do I have?

Adora could not stay silent at that.

"He wouldn't want you to think that way.".

Lonnie bit back some instinctual counter about "why does that matter?".

She changed the subject.

"Grizzlor's old team sent a card."

Adora paused. "Aren't they all in prison?"

"For war crimes?" she thought.

There was a lot of stuff going unspoken today.

Lonnie brushed that off ."Yeah, apparently Kyle used to hang around them a lot when he wasn't hiding behind us. He was their "team mascot.' They'd bask in his admiration and tell him stories. "

Adora felt herself thrown a bit at this new knowledge. That seemed like such a big thing not to be in the loop of.

"And no one knew about this?"

Lonnnie shrugged.

"Rogelio did, but he didn't think it was important. But that's why he was always able to find Kyle. Its from them Kyle got the description to make a drawing of you and Swift Wind."

Adora gasped. "Kyle drew a picture of us?! While in the Horde?!"

"We didn't know you were She-Ra yet back then, okay? It was right after you fought them outside the woods" Lonnie rolled her eyes.

Lonnie found a smile creeping up on her face.

"Can you believe he actually put it on his locker to try and look tough? Having a "scary princess" on it? Probably a good thing Catra tore it up so he didn't get accused of being a sympathizer."

"Actually, I would have liked to have seen it,'' Adora responded in a flat tone. She herself couldn't tell if she was actually wistful or just saying something nice.

Silence followed. The well of conversation was running dry, yet the emotions were not leaving.

Lonnie dredged up a memory from something Kyle had told her a few months before it all happened.

"Apparently, Grizzlor once tried to reassure him by saying it took him until he was 400 years old before anyone thought he was worth something."

That was so horrible, it was funny. The secondhand embarrassment from the terrible attempt to cheer Kyle up seemed to call across time and space. Soon Adora and Lonnie were snickering than full on laughing.

Then mutual sobbing.

Lonnie felt a strange pressure, and opened her eyes to find Adora's arms around her.

Lonnie sighed.

"You turned into a real hugger after leaving the Horde, Adora. I'm not sure I like it."

****

Swift Wind gazed upon the body in the casket.

Sea Hawk stood beside him, the only change in self-declared pirate's usual wear was his honorary Rebellion naval hat he never wore anywhere before. He held the hat against his chest now.

Swift Wind had also kept things simple, having Bright Moon tailors make him a simple black necktie.

He had thought about a different more... horse outfit; but the only funeral wear for horses he could find was simply for draft horses pulling hearse carriages. And he just didn't think they would look right. He wasn't a draft horse, and he wasn't planning on pulling anything.

His thoughts turned back to what was in front of him.

...It was amazing how Entrapta had managed to put it back together so well after her overly-thorough autopsy.

Kyle's body was dressed in clothing in inspired by what Salineas placed its sailors in before giving them a burial at sea. Though they were far away from the ocean, so the colors chosen had been more earthy tones, and there were some changes made of course to keep it from being too much like the source of inspiration.

Kyle's herd had suggested it after talking with Sea Hawk. Apparently Kyle had always been happiest in the Horde when on sea missions.

Swift Wind felt it was so weird in hindsight how Adora had never talked to him about her first herd. He felt like he should know more about this person.

Scratch that, everything today was so weird.

Funerals were weird. He had never felt more self-conscious in his life.

It had been awkward when he had yawned during one of the speeches, and Queen Angella had to explain that yawning in horses was a stress response rather than boredom.

(He had to admit she picked up a lot of knowledge in her long life.)

He never felt more separated from his peers than before this day. He knew the builder species occasionally talked to inanimate objects like they could understand them, and here in this place it seemed socially expected for one to address a corpse or grave like it could hear you. It was odd and confusing.

Still, he could give it a try.

"You know, while I love being a grand adventuring hero, I had it pretty good as normal horse.

...But, you seemed to have had it pretty bad."

He paused.

Sea Hawk placed a comforting hand on the equine's back. It was reassuring, it helped him feel like he had as much right to be here as any other person. He continued.

"I know how it feels to have people think you're annoying. Sometimes I feel people only put up with me because of my speed and strength and they otherwise wouldn't want me around."

A strange thought occurred to him, it was overpowering and selfless and scary, and seemed ridiculous.

"I think... if I could go back and make it so you got transformed into Adora's steed instead of me... I would."

It was a dumb thought. Time couldn't go backwards. But a pressure seemed to lift from inside him after saying that. He felt calmer.

Swift Wind felt he understood the purpose of graveyards a little better now.

****

Adora came back to find Bow sitting in a chair and talking to Catra while the latter feigned disinterest.

"It's not like I should have been expected to be sympathetic at the time to someone who had kidnapped me and just helped pulled off a terrorist attack."

He paused realizing who he was talking to.

Catra smirked humorlessly. "Continue."

Bow decided to just power through it.

"And I had Glimmer on my mind-

-but I thought of myself as a hero. And heroes are supposed to go above and beyond being merely decent. And I dismissed someone obviously in distress. And he was trying to help me as much as he felt safe doing so."

Catra gave a 'hmph'.

"You can't care about everyone and everything all at once or you'll go crazy. I wouldn't have gotten as far as I had if I did that."

"That is the exact opposite of comforting, Catra." Bow didn't even bother glaring at her. Just kept the same contemplative expression while looking at his hands.

Catra thought that over.

"Yeah, I guess it is; sorry."

Adora decided not to interrupt and directed her attention to those around her.

Rogelio was mostly motionless in a group of other people when Lonnie, who came back with Adora, joined him. He didn't really know anyone else here and looked thankful at Lonnie's return.

The exact nature of his bond with Kyle was always confusing in hindsight to Adora. Much less clearer than her and Catra's or his friendship with Lonnie. She wondered if either had understood it. It was dependable, but grew colder with age.

They had all grown less warm towards Kyle as they got older, she thought. As the Horde's grip grew tighter in their minds, they became less patient with him. And as they got less patient, his performance worsened.

He really only was kept on because he was good at written portions of the tests, and because Shadow Weaver liked to use him to berate everyone else.

"I see once again Kyle is the only one taking the lesson seriously," the sorceress would often say.

Adora knew apparently the two tried to turn things romantic after she left the Horde...but it fizzled out after the war ended.

She remembered asking Rogelio about that. He had just sadly growled that outside the Horde, Kyle had better options than someone like him.

****

Catra felt empty headed, yet also somehow like her skull was stuffed to the brim at the same time. She had never thought much of Kyle. But she never really thought about anyone in her squad except Adora. She had let Adora be her entire world, let the cruelty of the Horde make her treat Adora as her only refuge.

Yet there had been another outsider, one who had never done anything mean to her, another possible ally, in easy reach the whole time.

She regretted not trying.

****

He wasn't the best of them.

He wasn't the worst of them.

He was just a person who hadn't been treated as a person should.

She had said the squad had been her family to Glimmer once.

Now that felt hollow and comical.

She stared one last time at the grave.

Adora knew she'd never be able to move on from this completely. The only guilt she had ever managed to full break free from was that she was directly made to feel by Shadow Weaver. Any other guilt... it always found its way back

"I'm sorry."

She paused

"I'll try- no I will be better."

She felt something more was needed.

She took out her sword.

"For the Honor of Grayskull" she whispered softly.

She-Ra kneeled before the grave. Adora had never been one to think being She-Ra being made her better.

But maybe acknowledgment from the revered and mighty She-Ra could in some small way, partly make up for everything.

Angella touched her shoulder. She-Ra turned gazed into the woman's eyes

She leaned into the angel's maternal hug.

It was time to go.

#spop fanfic #spop fic #implied suicide #tw suicide #funeral fanfic #funeral fic #character study #swift wind (spop)

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willieloomissavescollinsport · 5 years

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Hawkes Harbor Review

"Surely, Louisa, you are not suggesting I take Jamie to Disneyland."

After a bestselling author's work is rejected, in a move of irony & karma, Dark Shadows finds ITSELF the subject of plagiarism. And now, brought to you by the letter 'H', here is my review of Hawkes Harbor by S.E. Hinton.

As the legends go, the novel 'Hawkes Harbor' was originally intended to be an entry in publishers HarperCollins' Dark Shadows series. What changes were made to the storyline & characters afterwards are hard to pinpoint, but for all pretense and purposes, I chose to read this book while mentally changing each character or location to its DS counterpart:

Jamie Sommers..........Willie Loomis Kellen Quinn............Jason McGuire Grenville Hawkes...Barnabas Collins Dr. Louisa Kahne...Dr. Julia Hoffman Sophia Marie........................Josette Katie Roddendem........Maggie Evans Richard..................................Roger Lydia.................................Elizabeth Ricky.....................................David Barbara...............................Carolyn Hawkes Harbor.................Collinsport Hawkes Hall......................Old House Terrace View....................Wyndcliffe

This comes in handy mostly because, with the exception of the 3 male leads, not many details are given regarding the other individuals mentioned in passing or who enter the storyline from time to time.

The plot itself more or less follows Willie's storyline early on the show, with some added details & flashback accounts to his time spent with Kellen/Jason, along with a few other changes. For starters, Jamie gets more tail in a chapter of this book than Willie could ever hope to get throughout his entire run on the show. He gets it on with a rich bitch who scratches his back up; with Katie/Maggie, IMMEDIATELY after Grenville/Barnabas kidnaps her; with two girls on a cruise ship, at the same time. Hell, even the book's equivalent of Nurse Jackson climbs into bed with him to give him a pity handjob.

Whereas onscreen, I think Willie only got as far as copping a feel while holding Maggie hostage.

And as I mentioned before, there are rather large sections of the book devoted to Jamie/Willie's backstory, which had previously been unexplored in the show's official canon. The story begins by showing Jamie/Willie, an out of wedlock child with a dying mother, being placed in an orphanage at the age of 7. There, his mother's heirloom crucifix necklace is taken away from him, hinting at his future fascination with shiny trinkets. In his adulthood, he enlists in the Navy & later befriends Kellen/Jason after defeating two Hawaiian men in a brawl.

For the years to follow, Kellen & Jamie primarly travel together on the high seas, makin' cons, makin' scams & fightin' round the world. During the course of their adventures: Jamie is accused of rape by a rich heiress who seduced him; Kellen tells a story where the punchline involves a frozen sausage; and the two are robbed by pirates while a shark attacks Jamie as he dives for a ruby.

After their resources are dried out, the duo end up back in the states in the town of Hawkes Harbor, Delaware/Collinsport, Maine. Which, of course, is where these characters were introduced on Dark Shadows. But since this isn't suppose to be a Dark Shadows novel, some of the details have been mixed around. For starters, instead of Kellen being Lydia/Elizabeth's husband's two-timing friend, HE is her husband. They were married overseas while Lydia/Elizabeth was working as a nurse for the war. After the marriage went sour, Kellen took a buyout to produce a death certificate, vanish & allow her to go back to her family as a widow.

Posing as the brother of Lydia's late husband, Kellen moves into the grand family mansion & collects clothes & money while Jamie stays at a boarding house nearby. There, he befriends one of the workers: Katie Roddendem/Maggie Evans, as well as her little sister Trisha(/Amy, perhaps?) & their mother, Mrs Pivens (who seems to be playing the role of Mrs Johnson, as evidenced by this line: "Well, my landlady, Mrs Pivens, she liked me. Don't ask me why-'cept she had a son around my age, he turned out bad. I guess she wanted to believe guys like us were good, deep down somewhere.") Ricky Hawkins/David also forms a bond with Jamie & later tells him of buried pirate treasures located in the caves of a nearby island, said to be haunted.

With just that information to go on, Jamie foolishly goes a treasure huntin' & unchains a coffin revealing vampire Grenville Hawkes/Barnabas Collins. Grenville, who's sounds more like a chain of motels than a scary vampire, puts Jamie under his power & to work on restoring Hawkes Hall/Old House. Now, it is worth mentioning that some changes were made to Grenville, from the Barnabas we all know & love/hate. Most notably, Jamie describes him as being around the age of 50, with no trying to pretend that the middle aged vampire was 25 when confined in a coffin. In addition, Grenville has had *gasp* MULTIPLE wives! One of which produced an offspring named William, which is perhaps a nod to the our protagonist's original name. Guess William also dodged a bullet in that he wasn't named Bramwell.

Some time after Gren's first wife passes on, he marries a young woman by the name of Sophia Marie/Josette. Soon afterwards, Grenville finds himself turned into one of the living dead. Sophia/Josette is all too anxious to join him in being eternally damned, but unfortunately for her, Bizarro-Barnabas will have none of that & decides chokes a bitch instead. Fast forward a few centuries and Grenville spots Katie/Maggie & makes up his mind that he wants Sophia/Josette to be a bloodsucking creature of the night after all! But here's where it gets WEIRD.

Instead of slowly brainwashing Katie into believing she IS Sophia, he plans to have Sophia's spirit, who just happens to be hanging around Hawkes Hall for no good reason, inhabit her body. I guess just like in 'Ghost', when Patrick Swayze jumps into Whoopi Goldberg or something. So, Gren attacks Katie & leaves her alone in the Hawkes Hall long enough for Jamie to find her, allowing THIS exchange to take place:

"Jamie," she said suddenly. "Make love to me." "W-w-what?" he stammered, drawing back from her, searching her eyes. "Make love to me. Now."

Yep, you've only got mere moments to escape, but why not do the nasty instead? I mean, it's not like an angry jealous killer vampire could walk in at any second or anything! Actually you know what? If I didn't believe it was impossible, I think Willie Loomis himself wrote this book. That's right, after hearing about his parallel time self being a famous writer, he thought to himself 'Well, why can't I do that?' And then he proceeded to write a thinly disguised biography of his life, giving everyone a different name & changing the events to the way he thought they SHOULD have happened!

Oh & here's another kicker, Katie/Maggie claims to be a virgin. Ha! Yeah, I know Joe is always shown sleeping on the couch in the show, but I've figured that was because Sam had a short fuse & a shotgun handy amidst his paintbrushes, just in case someone dared to lay a finger on his daughter. Trust me, if Maggie's a virgin, then Carolyn's in the freakin' convent. So Katie is saying that she wants her first roll in the hay to be with pretty boy Jamie instead of Count Hawkins. Actually I wonder if Grenville is even capable of performing such an act. Usually vampires in popular culture are as dead below the waist as the rest of their bodies, & Barnabas never seemed to be any exception. Sure he was interested in anything under 30 with a vagina who walked within his line of vision. But as a vampire, he never showed an interest in sinking anything except his fangs into a young lady.

But, getting back to our story. Jamie & Katie are engaging in some fluffy coitus. They kiss, they cry, they climax together. Cherubs come down from the heavens & sing. Then Grenny shows up & doesn't seem to show any reaction to the fact that some hard core nookie just took place in that very room. But no matter to that, because Grenville has to deliver some corny dialogue to his sweetie:

"Come, my heart, " the low voice beseeched the air. "Come and join me."

"All right!" (All right! Let's get this party started!) Jamie shouted as he struggled back up. "You go ahead and do this, kill Katie, I can't stop you. I seen people kill before-for money, God, or country, and you with your 'necessity for existence.' I even did it myself once. But don't you call it love! This isn't love!"

After that speech, I half expected Jamie to break out into song, but instead Sophia Marie talks through Katie, forming a ghostly glow over her body. The lovers embrace, kiss, cry, the cherubs come back for an encore & Sophia Marie/Josette basically tells Grenville that although she loves him, they can't really be together like this. A ghost & a vampire together? Might make for a decent mid season replacement sitcom, but doesn't lend itself to being very practical for real life.

So with Katie now useless, Grenville tells Jamie to get rid of her. Maybe he just meant to dump her in the trashcan out back for pickup, but Jamie takes Katie & runs for the hills. And who should see them on their way, but a Sheriff Patterson/Joe Haskell hybrid known as Mitch Morgan. To make matters worse, Katie is Mitch's main squeeze & she's been missing for awhile. Mighty Mitch takes aim & Jamie gets 3 bullets in his back, as opposed to Super-Willie who recieved FIVE & recovered in record time!

From there, Jamie is taken to a criminal insane ward & later transferred to Terrace View/Wyndcliffe under the request of Grenville & Dr. Louisa Kahne/Dr. Julia Hoffman. This is where the majority of the story takes place in the forms of flashbacks & remembrances while a physician named Dr. McDevitt conducts therapy sessions with Jamie. Which is an affective tool for storytelling, but I wouldn't really buy as being able to take place. Think about it. Would Julia really allow anyone to ask Willie questions, taking the risk that he might reveal something? Frankly, I've always imagined Willie as being kept heavily medicated & isolated in his room while at Wyndcliffe.

Oh, & while it's not even brought up until much later in the novel, you should know that, much like on the show, Kellen/Jason became worm food some time before Jamie got shot. Worse yet, instead of Grenville merely using Barnabas's trusted M.O. of strangling someone to death, here Grenville drinks all the blood from Kellen's body. And then orders Jamie to stake his friend to prevent him from rising as a vampire. Adding yet another thing to give Jamie nightmares at night.

After several months of being at Terrace View/Wyndcliffe, in following the storyline of Dark Shadows, Jamie/Willie is released into the care of Grenville & Dr. Louisa Kahne/Dr. Julia Hoffman, against the wishes of Dr. McDevitt. Grenville is magically now 99.9% vampire free but it's still alluded to that he needs shovels for misdeeds, which are never fully explained in detail. Meanwhile, Jamie has become the Boo Radley of Hawkes Harbor, with small children throwing rocks at him. And on top of that, from his ordeal & time spent in the institution, he's become greatly addicted to prescription drugs.

Following Jamie accidentally ODing on his pills, Louisa/Julia finally gets it through her thick wig that Jamie just may have problems & observes he's likely suffering from Stockholm syndrome. Although since this takes place in 1968 & that term will not be conceived until 1973, I guess Louisa took some trips to the future that we didn't know about. She suggests that Grenville should take him someplace to relax while he is gradually reduced from his meds, to which he reacts with this line:

"Surely, Louisa, you are not suggesting I take Jamie to Disneyland."

Oh man, I'd pay good money to see Barnabas & Willie in Disneyland! Can you imagine it? Within the first 24 hours, Willie will have beaten up Goofy & been banned for life from Mr. Toad's Wild Ride while Barnabas has already made plans to kidnap Snow White & turn her into his new Josette!

But unfortunately for us, Louisa/Julia has other plans in mind.

"Richard was saying..." she began. His look warned her he had little interest in what his cousin had to say, but she went on. "The Collins shipping industry needed to look into passenger cruises. They are the wave of the future-You know Roger and his puns."

(That above line is NOT a typo, by the way. For two sentences they let the names 'Collins' & 'Roger' slip through without changing them!)

"No," Grenville said. "No." "Of course he offered to go. But you could investigate for yourself. And it's not unusual for a man of your position and background to travel with a valet."

So, Grenville & Jamie are off to the high seas in a high class cruise ship. Jamie manages to come down off his drug dependency while he spends his vacation having nonstop threesome with 2 babes who hang on him like bark on a tree. Grenville also finds time to cheat on Louisa/Julia score with an older lady by the name of Leslie while on board. This leads to another quotable line:

"So Grenville," Jamie said conversationally, "yours give good head?"

Greetings from Commodore Cruise Line! Wish you were here. Love, Jamie.

Yep, Jamie/Willie & Grenville/Barnabas discussing oral sex. An area most fan fiction writers wouldn't even dare venture towards. But all good things must come to an end, including the boy's pleasure cruise & they return to Hawkes Harbor with Jamie greatly improved & more confident in himself. In time, he becomes a productive member of society, working odd jobs & donating his services to schools & charities.

The book then flashes forward 10 years where Jamie has become Harvey Lacey & lives a content comfortable life with his former captor. That Christmas, Grenville 'Last of the Big Time Spenders' Hawkins gives him a quilt. Jamie gets to enjoy it for exactly one night before a deer crashes into the car while he's driving Grenville home. He dies moments later & meets Kellen/Jason in heaven. Kellen claims that Jamie's act of lighting a candle & saying a prayer, allowed him into a much less fiery accommodation in the afterlife, but personally I think he just had some dirt on God & blackmailed his way through the pearly gates. The two sail off into the sunset of the great beyond. The End.

So that's the book. It has its pros & its cons, but it actually might have been much better if released as originally written, with the characters' names, places & events as we know them still intact. If you are familiar with Dark Shadows, it's impossible not to associate the book with it & become annoyed with some of the changes. While if you're NOT acquainted with the show, you're very likely to read the novel not being completely clear of the characters' personalities or motivations. It's really a no win situation.

In general, I like the way Jamie is written. But I think he's made out to be too much of a Gary Stu in some parts of the book. For one thing, Jamie is written as being primarily well liked by anyone he comes across, whereas this is certainly not the case for Willie. Early on, he insults & gets into fights with nearly anyone he meets. Jamie acts as an older brother towards Ricky & Trisha while Willie is mostly seen just throwing David's ass out of the Old House. The character of Katie is deeply fond of Jamie, going as far to name one of her sons after him. Regarding Maggie & Willie, early on she deeply despises him as he continually comes on to her, even when she makes it perfectly clear that she is not interested. After he is shot & she comes to believe in his innocence, her feeling towards him becomes one of friendship. But it's still more of a commiserative manner rather than romantic as Willie would like to believe. Often her interactions with him come off as if she's dealing with a child or slow minded adult.

And in turn, I think many of the secondary characters seem to have been made less likable, perhaps to make Jamie even more of the hero. The Hawkeses are described in brief as simply a family of rich snobs. Richard/Roger has to be taken to detox clinics, Barbara/Carolyn gets involved in one scandle after another. Granted the Collins themselves were far from perfect, but never near the level of arrogant highbrows as they are presented here as the Hawkeses.

Dr. Louisa Kahne is also written as a very flawed individual. In addition to being extremely controlling towards Jamie, it is mentioned by Dr. McDevitt that Louisa barely has any medical training or knowedge & yet goes around acting as a doctor. And while I'm not gonna defend Julia's treatment of Willie which ranges from small acts of kindness to being a complete bitch, I think it's unfair to quickly write her up as an unqualified quack. Her Doctor Feelgood reputation of passing out sedatives like Halloween candy precedes her, but Julia has been shown treating vampirism & creating an artifical person, & seems able to handle whatever injury or emergency is thrown at her on a daily basis.

But while we're on the subject of the Queen of Barbiturates, I do want to discuss a subject which I thought the book did well in covering. Which is in dealing with Jamie's health & mental state. On Dark Shadows, after Willie is shot enough times to kill a person two times over & regains consciousness from his coma, he is shown as being in a great amount of pain. And furthermore, he appears to have undergone a complete mental breakdown. Showing signs of amnesia (whether genuine or as a protective defense), he seems to have regressed to his state after being attacked by Barnabas, begging for it not to be dark & for no one to hurt him.

When we next see Willie a few months later at Wyncliffe, he claims to be physically strong as ever, but is still showing occasional signs of delusions, bad decisions, as well as sparks of his old mean demeanor that was repressed after being bitten. Miraculously, following his release, his mental state actually seems to improve over time, even while he is seen getting thrown into one dangerous situation after another. This I've always found hard to believe, especially considering Willie's parental caregivers rarely give him a thought of concern at all.

Willie: (After being forced to dig up a corpse & bring it back to the Old House) "You know, every time I touched it I felt sick. When I came back here I couldn't even go to sleep. I put it down here & I went to my room & I just lay there, Barnabas!" Barnabas: "Well, next time Julia will give you a sedative."

Yeah, I don't find it hard to picture Willie becoming dependent on painkillers & tranquilizers with his environment or the health problems that would come from 5 bullets in the back. But by this point, Willie mainly served as a background character, carrying out duties for Barnabas & Julia, with limited insight into his own personal life, or lack thereof. After all, what reason did the writers have to give his character a story arc of his own, when the viewers seemed content with watching Barnabas repeatedly pine on a lost love or mope over his vampire state?

But that's where its the viewer's job to watch, observe, read between the lines & ponder the untapped stories, feelings & adventures for characters who remain a mystery. And for that, despite some of the book's shortcomings, S.E. Hinton has done a respectable job in trying to make the reader better understand the character of Willie Loomis. Or Jamie Sommers, as she chooses to call him. Or if nothing else, I'm at least thankful that the author wanted to give Willie his moment in the spotlight.

#dark shadows #willie loomis #hawkes harbor

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michaelmyersmalewife · 5 years

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LEVIATHAN | 15. Epilogue | MASTERLIST

words: 3k+

A/N: and there it is :') im still in shock that the second ever fic i finished is fuxjcking about godzilla of all things (and clocking in at about 80k+ words in total, it’s the longest thing ive written so that’s fitting i guess) but ngl, i had the most fun writing it and i actually felt motivated and even excited to start a new chapter ?? and it feels almost a little weird to see it end; anyway, it always feels nice to finish a project ur passionate about, no matter how self indulgent it is

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Jodie adjusted the mic on Dr. Graham's blazer.

It had been a long time since she had seen her so nervous, not since the mass awakening. But she couldn't blame her. She tried giving her a reassuring smile, but the woman was staring just past her shoulder, at the wall behind them.

"Uh, Dr. Graham?" Coleman cleared his throat as his head peeked through the door. "You're on in about in a minute."

Vivienne snapped to attention almost immediately, and Jodie stepped away. The doctor wrung her hands as she took a deep breath, taking a tentative step towards the door.

It was a big day, one that could potentially take a step toward mending Monarch's relations with the government and the public alike. Or, it could just make it worse. Jodie already felt her heart thunder in her chest, the start of a headache forming in the back of her head. She had suspected the oncoming barrage of conferences and hearings and the like after Boston, but she didn't think it would happen this soon.

"You got this, Viv." she punctuated with a thumbs-up.

The smallest of smiles appeared on her face before she turned away. Taking a deep breath, Dr. Graham stepped through the door, and in the brief moment before it closed Jodie could see the flashing of camera lights illuminate her form. Now, all she could do was wait.

Sitting down at one of the tables in the small, rectangular room, she pulled out her tablet from her bag. Things had been so hectic - what with being tasked with co-running the Monarch archive that Sam had created - that she barely had any time to catch up with her usual journalistic endeavors. She scrolled through the influx of newsletters that had flooded her inbox over the past couple weeks. It was odd, suddenly seeing 'deforestation halts across the globe', '14th species to be taken off the endangered list', and 'coral reefs restored' among other things. The general public was still unsure about titans as a whole, but their importance was undeniable.

Suddenly, she could hear Vivienne's muffled voice from just beyond the door.

"The Rise of the Titans was an unspeakable tragedy, one that we may never truly recover from. And while we've done all we can to track and contain the ones that were released, we have confirmed that they've begun to retreat to their natural habitats on their own. But it seems that is only the beginning. We believe that there are more titans to be discovered, ones that Ghidorah's call was not able to reach."

There was a massive uproar after that, but Jodie drowned them out. Or, tried to at least. Just then, a notification popped up at the top of the tablet's screen. It was a video call - from China's Yunnan Province. Opening it without hesitation, a livestream filled the screen.

It was Gill. Jodie had been waiting in anticipation for the stream to start, as she was just as excited as the rest of the expedition team for the trek into Mothra's temple. Though, Gill probably had her beat in that aspect.

The feed crackled every now and then, the soft fuzz of radiation seeping through the camera. It was dimly lit, but a fair amount of what looked like a tunnel was illuminated by a handful flashlight beams. It looked like they were walking down a spiral staircase, if those stairs had been carved straight out of the earth. Every now and then they would pass by tall, wide pillars. Just ahead of Gill's point of view were two figures leading the expedition.

In the background, just behind the door, the rabble died down and Graham continued with her speech.

"Which is why Monarch is currently developing a more effective means of dealing with the titans that will potentially..inevitably..wake in the coming years. More effective than our current containment facilities. Now, these plans are still in early development but we will make sure to provide you with regular updates as the project progresses. Which leads me to our next point,"

They had been walking for a while now. And every now and then someone would speak, but their voices would be difficult to make out. Just how far down had they gone?

Suddenly, the static on the camera spiked, filling the screen for a brief second before stabilizing. The feed was still fuzzy, but Jodie could tell they had entered a large chamber. As the flashlights fanned out, Gill's camera swept through the chamber.

There was a raised dais in the center of the room, and on either side were impossibly massive statues. They were identical, and they both depicted women standing almost protectively, their arms splayed out, pointing to something between them. Something massive.

Gill and the two figures that had remained ahead of her approached the object, while the others continued inspecting the rest of the room. One of the figures turned around, looking at Gill with raised eyebrows. It was Chen, and it wasn't too out of the question to assume the person by her side was her sister Ling.

They both pointed their flashlights at the object.

"As of now, Monarch will be operating with full transparency. In accordance with the United Nations, 60 years worth of our documentation regarding titans will be freely available to the public. And with each new discovery, there will be no more secrets. No more hiding. In a post-Godzilla world our mission was to provide a means of defense against every titan we uncovered. And now we believe that staying informed is the greatest defense of all."

Gill's camera was facing downward now, glancing at the EKG monitor in her hand. It was steady, but every other few seconds she could hear the beep of a heartbeat. The object on the massive platform was alive. Jodie felt a wave of chills rush down her spine.

Gill and the twins focused their flashlights onto the object, condensing into one beam. Jodie suppressed a gasp as she realized what the object was.

It was an egg, a giant egg about the size of two buses stacked on top of each other. It was a dull blue and yellow, with light white-ish spots accenting the striped pattern. She heard Gill laugh, unbelieving of the find. She turned to face the twins, and they had each lay a hand on the egg, staring up at it with the lightest of smiles on their faces.

Covering her bases, Jodie thought to herself. She couldn't help but smile along with them.

"We hope that with this new development, we can navigate this new era not just together, but with the titans as well."

_____

Darkness.

She couldn't tell if the void she was in was the size of a crawlspace or the entire universe. But what she did know was that it was pitch black, and it was cold.

She took a step forward, but found that she was frozen. She tried to wriggle her fingers, kick her legs, anything that would allow her the slightest of movement, but it was all futile. Elena could do nothing but silently scream into the abyss, the deafening silence threatening to push at the fabric of her mind.

She was about ready to give up her struggle until she heard it. The laughter.

That same lilting cackle.

It kept echoing throughout the space, three separate sounds melting into something so loud she thought her eardrums would pop. She wasn't sure if she was screaming or sobbing, but she had to find a way out.

Get out get out stop laughing let me OUT -

Elena shot up in bed, eyes wide and tear stains trailing down her cheeks. That was the third time that month where she had "The Dream", as she had been referring to it as. With a shaky hand, she wiped the drying trails away with her palms, quietly looking around her room. It was cold, and the blanket was so warm, but yet she rubbed the sleep from her eyes, brows creasing in annoyance as she reached for the alarm that blared in her ears.

She lay there in the stiff bed for a moment, face half-buried in her pillow as she stared ahead in the dimly lit room. There was an ache in her bones that had never quite left her since the battle of Boston, and some days it wasn't anything more than a dull stiffness that would soon fade as the day went on. But there were others where it spread anywhere it could reach, seeping into her limbs and leaving her wanting to never get out of bed again. Today was one of those days.

For all its inconveniences, she couldn't hate the feeling - not completely. She liked to think of it as proof that she was alive. But that didn't mean it wasn't a bitch to deal with.

Eventually, she knew she would have to drag herself up and out unless she wanted someone knocking at her door, so she did. Swinging her legs over the mattress, she pushed herself up, shuffling to the bathroom. Brushing her teeth, the lukewarm water hitting her face in the shower - it all felt hazy through the sheet of grogginess that still clouded her mind. It wasn't until she looked at the time while getting dressed that she finally snapped back to reality.

Grumbling to herself, she shot out into the hall of Castle Bravo's living quarters, messily tying her hair back in a ponytail as she walked.

It wouldn't have taken her so long to reach the command center had she not decided to stop by the mess hall, picking up a cold bagel and a cup of black coffee. Discreetly popping a painkiller in her mouth, she took a swig out of the cup, walking over to the figures standing in front of an array of controls.

"Well, it's about time." Dr. Stanton said, glancing over his shoulder before returning to his screen, staring intently at the steady beeping that came from the monitor. "Tall, dark, and atomic over here isn't the most patient of lizards, you know."

Elena made no comment save for a roll of the eyes as she ambled over to the front of the room, approaching the wide window that took up half of the wall. Godzilla was just on the other side, multiple drones flagging him like remoras with their floodlights trained on his form. He didn't look particularly upset, but he didn't look too happy either. It was hard to tell with him sometimes. But he seemed to be in a good mood nonetheless, or about as good a mood as the newly crowned "king" could be. But that was likely due in part to the minuscule figure just ahead of her.

Sitting cross-legged on the floor was Madison.

She looked up, giving her a quick wave and a small smile. Elena gave her a friendly nod, crossing her arms and trying not to look directly at the titan as she leaned against the window. Elena wasn't too keen on being around the titan even now, but the child had insisted she be there to 'send him off'.

"Am I interrupting?" she asked.

The girl shook her head. "Nah, he's gonna leave in a little while anyway."

She nearly sighed from relief. "Busy schedule, huh?"

"I guess," Madison shrugged. "Says he's got somewhere to be."

Not too far away from them was a large, mobile screen. Hooked up to it with a handful of thick wires was a familiar device. The ORCA 2.0's soft humming thrummed throughout the control room as a series of words appeared on the screen.

> YOU MAKE IT SOUND SO CASUAL

Madison snorted. "I'm sure whatever you need to do isn't as dramatic as you say it is."

> IF ALL GOES WELL

> THEN HOPEFULLY IT WON'T BE

Elena slightly raised a brow, but she decided not to ask any questions. Since Boston, her fear of the lizard had significantly faded, but she still found herself on edge whenever she was around him, no matter how much Madison reassured her.

"You won't be gone long, right?"

> YOU WORRY TOO MUCH

> TINY SPEAKER

Madison grinned sheepishly at the comment. Smiles like those were rare for her. From her mother's detainment to her father insisting she be given a "proper" education outside of Monarch's programs, Elena suspected the time she spent using the new and improved ORCA were moments of relief. It almost reminded her of..her. Or at least a long lost version of herself.

In that moment, Godzilla's eyes wandered from the girl over to Elena. She felt herself stiffen, but the lizard himself didn't seem to notice. At least, he didn't make it obvious that he did. Instead he let out a snort, a trail of bubbles fluttering above him. Madison had tried coaxing her into talking to him, even to say a simple 'hello'. But she wasn't sure if she was ready, not yet.

> I'LL SEE YOU

> WHEN I SEE YOU

As he began to turn around, Madison waved him off. Elena simply watched, taking a bite out of the bagel still in her hand. With a strong whip of his tail, he shot away from the base. The drones around him returned to their stations, and the ORCA 2.0 quieted as its translation feed shut off automatically.

"Where did he say he was going anyway?" Elena asked as she watched the titan disappear into the blue.

Madison stood up, smoothing out the jacket that had bunched up behind her. In a voice that was all too calm, she answered.

"Skull Island."

_____

Mateo led the men clad in black uniforms down the dimly lit corridor.

Despite their seemingly calm demeanor, they made him nervous, what with their heavy boots and steely gazes. None of them were talkers by any means, but that wasn't what made them seem..off. It was something in the way they acted, the way they spoke that unnerved him. It's not that they didn't act human, it's that they were trying too hard to be. That was especially true for the man that he assumed was their leader. Mateo had known people like him before, hungry for power no matter the cost. He didn't ask many questions, for at this point he just wanted their deal to be over and done with. Despite how uneasy they made him, he couldn't back out now. They were the ones that had approached him, after all.

And even if he could refuse them, it wouldn't have made much of a difference. The world had been changed forever. Much of his family and friends were either dead or scattered around the world due to the mass evacuations held just mere months before. He hated remembering it, how he could have been there for his family.

He had happened to be out at sea when Rodan woke from his slumber deep beneath the island's volcano, and he had been near enough to witness the drop of a bomb that left the waters lifeless. And during Ghidorah's storm, he had managed to make it to shelter. When it was all over, not many of his old relations were left. But he still had his boat and his fishing gear, even though they hadn't served much of a purpose since then. The island's seas were barren, and all the fish that had been killed during the bomb were poisoned.

But somehow, luck had been with him. He had made a good catch, and the strange men had come to pay him for it. Or they would just kill him and take it without a word.

They didn't look like any of the military folk he had ever seen, but they had a similar air to them. And in his experience, that usually did not bode well. But he had run out of choices, and he couldn't do much other than continue to lead them further down the warehouse.

"It's a brave new world, my friend." he told the leader with the calmest tone he could manage. "Such things as this have become much more valuable since the rise of the king."

The leader said nothing. Mateo swallowed nervously.

"Took nine fishing boats to raise it," he continued. "My men, they don't ask for much. Just enough to help their families."

Finally, he saw the entrance to the room where their prize lay.

"Can't fish here anymore..everything's dead."

As they reached the open warehouse space, he saw his men waiting to the side. They all seemed just as uneasy as him. But not because of the swarm of men behind him, but by the source of the stench of death that permeated throughout the room.

He flipped on the lights, and prayed that it was what they were looking for. His coworkers stepped away from it, recoiling as if it could strike them at any moment.

Even in death, covered in seaweed and barnacles, his once golden scales dulled by decay, Ghidorah's head was still terrifying. He had seen it happen, when Godzilla tore it off with his bare teeth and dropped it in the sea just before the bomb hit. He didn't have the slightest idea as to why these strangers payed him and his men to fish it out, but he knew - vaguely - how much titan parts ran on the market. He refused to dabble in that sort of thing, as something about it made him feel wrong. But evidently, whatever they were planning to do with it, the leader had no such qualms.

The leader stepped into the light, walking so close that he was able to touch the creature. As the white-haired man placed a hand on its slimy, rotting flesh, he stared up at it with an unsettling expression. His eyes were as placid as a lake, almost expressionless, and yet he was smiling. But there was nothing denoting happiness in that smile. It was the sort that his father used to call la sonrisa del diablo.

For the first time since his arrival, the man spoke.

"We'll take it."

#godzilla #king of the monsters #godzilla king of the monsters #kotm #godzilla fanfic #leviathanfic

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kinsbin · 5 years

Text

Bruises and Kisses

Title: Bruises and Kisses Ship: Alexys/Michael [Self Insert/Canon] Word Count: 2062 Summary: While Alexys is studying for an upcoming text, Mike pays her a surprise visit. She finds the wounds on his face more surprising, though, and asks what happens. If there’s anyone who he’d trust to clean him up, it has to be her.

A/N: A commission for @space-sweetheart of her and Mike from Until Dawn! I loved getting back into Until Dawn and seeing her ship tbh, is so cute ;u;

Alexys wasn’t ready for the knock on her window.

It echoed against the quiet evening sky like the call of a monster in the depths of the world around her. It burned in the back of her mind like a faint echo of what once was. She wasn’t sure how long the noise had been going on for, certainly, but once it made itself known in the back of her mind, she could not unhear it. The gentle rap-tap-tap...the crescendo of the apparent finger tapping to knuckles as it grew increasing in volume, likely to get her attention as she had been hyper focused on the videos she was watching. Crash Course youtube videos on the bright screen of her phone were a godsend when she had a history quiz the following day and had not studied at any other time. Not that it would have much mattered. Online classes were mediocre at best when it came to stopping the cheating of their student body. She liked to think that she knew some things, though. Enough to pass without having to pull up google in another tab of her computer as she took the online quiz.

Now, however, that train of thought was gone. It disappeared as she jumped at the noises at her window, pencil falling somewhere on the ground as she whipped her head to see just what was making the racket outside her home. She was only a little surprised to see the form of her boyfriend on the roof of her second story bedroom, his smile lopsided as he crouched into the view of the frame.

Alexys felt her own smile hesitantly grow on her lips as she stood up from her bed to hurriedly push open the window at its side. The cold air hit her face, forcing her to move to the side as the wind blew inwards. Her curtains brushed forward against her face as a result, the frame rattling and causing a momentary fear that someone might hear and question just what was going on in her room. Just who was going INTO her room. Though it was no one’s business but her and the walls, it didn’t stop the flutter of her heart as she smiled on at him.

“Mike, hey.” her words were soft, whispered as if she were afraid of waking someone up. She felt like a teenager from a movie whose parents had forbidden her from seeing her boyfriend after a certain hour, but, she still snuck him into the house anyways and couldn’t wait to spend the rest of the night with him as much as she could before they feared being caught.

The excitement faded, however, when she finally got a look at Mike’s face as he entered into her room’s soft light.

It wasn’t pretty, to say the least. His nose was stained red with a trickle of blood that seemed to fall from both nostrils and entwine on his lips, which were equally swollen and puffed from an apparent jab at their location. The worse was the cut on his forehead, just above his temple, that still glowed a mushy red from its initial opening. It’s trail bled over a slowly blackening eye as he rubbed the back of his neck and tried to avoid her shocked gaze.

“Wh-What happened?!” Alexys couldn't stop the words from falling from her lips, along with expletives and various curses passing it by as she scrambled backwards and towards her desk, looking around for anything that might help the bleeding. Her only source of comfort in the search was the box of tissues she kept near her computer for both wiping away dust and blowing her nose when sickness or sadness pulsed through her body. She pulled the whole box with her before hurrying back to her bed, where Mike had wordlessly taken a seat. The dirt and sweat was already seeping slightly into her freshly washed covers, garnering only slight guilt and upset from her as she hastily pulled tissue after tissue out of the box. Mike watched her with a small smirk somewhere under his parted lips. Blood stained parts of his teeth, likely from a hit to the jaw that had been all too jarring to keep it in his capillaries.

“A werewolf mugged me.” He remarked snidely. This was followed by a smack on his arm, making him hiss as several pieces of tissues were shoved directly into his face. MIke’s hand flew up to hold the pieces against the bloody parts of his body, pouting against their soft and absorbent taste as he was forced to do so. Alexys shot him a warning glare in return before her expression melted away into worry once again. Her hand came up, brushing some of his hair away from his face in an effort to examine the wounds fully. They looked worse than they were, it seemed. The cuts were shallow, the amount of blood simply a result of it being around for too long without clotting through properly. Or being reopened. She would assume the latter.

“Hilarious,” She muttered dryly before shifting, “I can go grab the first aid kit from my bathroom so just wait here and-”

Mike’s hand shot out, holding her there for a moment as she stood to go get the item she had just spoken about. Alexys took in a breath, looking back over her shoulder with wide eyes as she gazed down at him. His own eyes were averted again, the tissues already slowly gathering a reddish tinge visible in her line of sight from the blood they soaked up. Yet there was something...so vulnerable about his expression. So unreadably soft against the otherwise amusing and witty outer facade that she could barely stand to see it portrayed so blatantly against his form.

“Just,” He took a deep breath through his mouth, “Stay...for a second, okay? I just kind of want you to...be here, I don’t know.”

The words melted her heart more than his look did, her want to fix him up and her want to follow his wishes fighting against one another in her stomach as she looked from one side to the other, eventually relenting and placing herself back onto her bed at his side with a heavy sigh. He smiled in return, a silent thank-you as he reached for some new tissues to wipe away the remains of blood on his face.

“How….what did you….?”

Her question died on her tongue as she tilted her head, lips worrying at each other while her eyes tried to trail somewhere else. Mike watched her movements with careful eyes. He was gauging. Planning. Thinking over just what he could tell her that wouldn’t lead her to getting too upset or worried that he might be a bad influence. Yet...as he thought...only the truth seemed to present itself in the forefront of his mind. At the very least, he could get to beg her forgiveness at some point and kiss her once the blood on his face had fully dried up. As if accepting this within himself, Mike rolled his shoulder back and took another deep breath, exhaling it out in a sigh as he shrugged.

“I got in a fight.”

“Well I can see that,” Alexys frowned as she kicked his leg lightly, making him laugh through the tissues as he tilted his head at her.

“I mean...why, I guess?” Alexys tried to find the right words with growing difficulty in her mouth, “Why would you get in a fight...What happened in all of that? I get that some people feel like they should be punched and all, but, why actually do it?”

The memory seemed to make him frown. Alexys watched his face contort again to annoyance and then to rage as he took in a breath.

“I….they were…” He gritted his teeth, “I heard them talking about you. Kids from that class you’re taking on biology or whatever...when you left and I came to pick you up a while back I heard em talking about how weird you were...how they hated to be your partner in anything...I couldn’t help it, brought it up when I saw them at a party and...Guess they were drunk or some shit, I don’t know.”

He waved her look of shock off, gaze melting away to the side as he tried to avoid the look that she was giving him. That look of softness that he was always amazed to see on her face. Amazed to see directed towards him. He certainly didn’t think that he was deserving of any such look, that was for certain, for what had he done besides start a few brawls to get someone to look at him with love such as that in their eyes? He certainly couldn’t think of much at all.

“You idiot,” Alexys muttered sharply as she reached forward again, her hands finding the patch of tissues that were now soaked again in blood and pulling them away. She replaced them not with more tissues, but, with a kiss. Her mouth tasted sweet, like mint from toothpaste and candy she had been eating at the same time. He tasted like blood, the coppery flavor sinking into her mouth and staining her chin as she pushed passed it in order to display her appreciation. The kiss was long and warm, sweet despite the chill in the room from the still open window. Mike took a second to recover from the shock he had from it, soon shutting his eyes and bringing her close again. His hands held her waist while hers held his face, thumbs rubbing gently over his cheek bones and feeling the line of stubble that peppered all down to his chin and up to his hairline. He felt like home. He tasted like comfort through the copper.

When she pulled away, he had to bite a laugh back at the way his blood smeared across her face. She didn’t seem to mind or care, however, as she smiled back. Alexys let her hands linger on his face, feeling the softness of his skin against the roughness of his stubble and admiring the way that, even when he was completely beat up, he still looked so impossibly handsome.

“You don’t have to get into fights for me,” She murmured before adding with a teasing hum, “You’ll ruin your pretty face if you do.”

His laugh was sharp but amused as she followed suit with her own, their giggles and chuckles echoing through the otherwise quiet room. It felt weird, but, in a good way. A strange sentence to think, Alexys wondered, but fitting nonetheless. When he leaned forward to kiss her again, she accepted with a sigh.

“What can I say?” He teased back with a quirky smirk, “I’m your knight in shining armor, darling. Anyone tries to hurt your honor? I hurt them.”

“And get hurt in return, I guess.”

“That was merely an unfortunate side-effect of defending your honor,” Mike protested with a pout, “I couldn’t help that one.”

He could have. He absolutely could have and both of them knew it. Yet, in the midst of the laughter and casual banter, Alexys couldn’t bring herself to point it out. Instead she laughed at his joke, hugging him close and burying her face into his jacket. He hugged her back, nose nuzzling into the long locks of her hair and sighing at the feeling of being with her. At being whole like this. They remained like that for a while, the quiet enough for them as they brought each other together.

“Wanna watch a movie?” Alexys murmured.

“Only if it’s a B Horror,” Mike chimed back eagerly.

“Only if I get to clean you up.” Alexys returned, poking a bit at the dried blood on his face. Mike grinned despite the burning it created in his body, and gave a nod.

“Deal.”

He was her knight and she was his princess. No matter how cheesy it sounded, he would defend her no matter what. Was it true love? Who knew in this bitch of a world, honestly, but he knew one thing for certain.

She sure looked pretty when she smiled at him like that.

#self insert #self shipping #self ship writing #self insert writing #kinley writes #until dawn #until dawn michael

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