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delightfullyterrible · 1 year

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Starting off my birthday month by giving y'all some ✨ pain ✨

This whole fic is based on one angsty movie dialogue and Thule Malec......so you know double pain 😊

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"Do you ever wonder what life would be like if we were ordinary?" Magnus asked, staring at the ceiling.

They were still lazing in bed even though it was already mid-morning. The previous few mornings had been spent like this, wrapped in sheets and talking about the most random things, until one of them got hungry enough to get up and make breakfast (or in Magnus’s case, summon it). No one knew they were back from vacation already and neither Alec nor Magnus was in any hurry to tell them.

"Ordinary? Like if we were mundanes?" Alec asked.

"Yeah, because I do".

This piqued Alec’s curiosity. "And what do we do in our ordinary lives?" he asked.

"You do a regular, boring 9-5 job, I wait for you to come home and give me attention”.

Alec chuckled. “What else?”

Magnus turned towards him and raised himself slightly. “On the weekends we do laundry and taxes. Maybe host a barbecue once in a while".

“And who does the grilling?”

“You of course,” Magnus replied sunnily. “Or maybe Jace or any of our other friends. But not Isabelle”.

“Not Isabelle,” Alec agreed. "Do we still live in New York?"

"We could live wherever,” Magnus said. “New York, London, Florence, Mumbai, Tokyo, anywhere. Any special preferences?"

Alec shook his head. "Any place is fine as long as it’s you I wake up next to. Whichever city, whichever country, whichever universe".

Magnus smiled. “Alexander Gideon Lightwood, you will be the death of me,” he said and kissed him for a long time.

~~~~~

The memory felt like a lifetime ago. Alec wished he could go back to that time when life was so simple and the only thing he had to worry about was how to keep Izzy and Jace away from trouble or how to get the glitter out of literally every surface in the house.

But the world as he had known had changed completely. Sebastian Morgenstern turned it into his playground. Demons roamed freely, mundane numbers were dwindling and Shadowhunters were either Turned or killed or barely managed to escape. There was personal loss too - his mother was missing, his sister was dead and his parabatai was worse than dead.

His sister had died killing Sebastian and his parabatai’s very soul had been corrupted by him.

And then there was Magnus, on his knees in front of him, begging to be killed.

“You have to do this Alexander,” Magnus pleaded. “There is no other way”.

“There has to be another way. Tessa and Ragnor are still searching, they could find something that….they could find something”.

“Even if they do, it will be too late,” Magnus said. “I don’t have any more time left”.

It was true. The blight had started affecting warlocks all over the world. One by one they were all falling ill and no cure had worked. Magnus, being an Eldest curse, was affected the most.

Alec kneeled so he could be at eye level with him. Magnus was beyond exhausted. His bones were jutting out and his usually beautiful face was pale and sunken.

Magnus clasped Alec’s hand. “Alec, my brave archer boy, I know I am asking a lot from you but I can’t see myself turning into a monster,” he said, tears welling up in his eyes. “For centuries I have kept my humanity intact, trying my best to not let my father’s blood taint the good in me, trying to not give in to evil”. He shut his eyes as if in pain and whispered “I can’t fail now”.

A teardrop rolled and fell on Alec’s hand. “Look at me Magnus,” he said and lifted Magnus’s chin. “Look at me and listen to me, you are kindness, strength, humanity, and patience all wrapped up in one person. All your life you have helped people and saved lives. Even if they didn't deserve any of it. You are not evil. You never will be”

“I wish it was true Alexander. I wish that was my reality right now. But when this illness takes over my body, everything you said about me will vanish. I won’t be part human anymore and I would rather die than lose my humanity”.

Alec knew that. Magnus’s humanity had made Magnus what he was today. It was what Alec had fallen in love with first. So how could he see it leave his body? How could he deny him his last wish?

“Is this what you really want?” Alec asked in a small voice.

“Yes I do,” Magnus said. “You know why it has to be you right?”

“I know,” Alec replied. “I just wish we had more time”

“I wish that too. Maybe it's possible in another universe”.

“Maybe in another universe, we have a different life, a happier one”.

“Like the one we talked about a few months ago?”

“Yeah, like that one,” Alec replied softly.

Magnus closed his eyes and touched his forehead to Alec’s. He pulled away after a few minutes and whispered “You have to do it now before anyone else comes”.

Alec nodded and slowly retrieved a knife from inside his jacket. With his other hand, he gently touched Magnus’s face. “Just so you know, in another life, I would have really liked just doing laundry and taxes with you”.

Magnus smiled and kissed him with all the passion and love he could muster. Tears flowed down his face, mingling with their kisses. He gasped as the knife went in but didn’t move away.

They stayed like that in each other's arms until Magnus’s breaths became shallow. Alec pulled away and gently lowered him to the ground. Blood seeped from the wound and darkened the soil around him. Magnus opened his mouth to say something but he started sputtering and reddish-black blood spilled out. Alec made a move to shush him but Magnus stopped him. “Alexander Lightwood…. it has been an honor being loved by you,” he said finally and went still.

Alec closed his eyes in pain and let the tears fall. He wanted to do more than that. He wanted to scream, shout, break something, bring Magnus back but nothing would work. He had lost everything and everyone he once held dear. The only thing he was left with now was grief and pain.

Once upon a time, Alec had dreamed of changing the world so the people he cared about could live and love freely. But what was the point now if they were all gone? What kind of world would he fight for? And for whom?

It was one of the quickest decisions Alec had made in his life. He curled his fingers around the hilt of the knife embedded in Magnus’s body and pulled it free. He thought of his family one last time, of Clary who died trying to save the world, of Tessa, Ragnor, and Catarina who were desperately searching for a cure. He thought of Magnus, the man who made him come alive with one look, who made him feel deserving of love.

A world without Magnus in it was not a world worth living in. With that thought in mind, Alec plunged the knife into his chest. It stung at first but it was okay. This pain was better compared to the pain of living. He laid down next to Magnus, clasped his hand, and closed his eyes. At least in death, they could be together.

The last thing he saw was a vision of two boys standing in front of a door. One was a toddler, barely 2 or 3 years old, with blue skin and tiny white horns jutting out of his head. The other one was slightly older with unruly curly hair and a solemn expression on his face. The boys looked like they were waiting for someone. He heard them call out, then the image faded and darkness took over as if signaling the end.

taglist : @dandeliononthemoon @onetimetwotimesthreetimess @ninacarstairss @vierss-herondale @elettralightwood @gayforcarstairsgirls @rinadragomir @magnus-the-maqnificent @carelessflower @dustandducks @wildesummerchild @potato-jem @the-ethereal-aura @literallytypogod

#malec #malec fic #magnus bane #alec lightwood #thule #qoaad #tda #tsc

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bronyinabottle · 1 year

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G5 THOUGHTS - Misty Brightdawn

Hey, I don’t normally do a lot of these anymore. But I suddenly got the feeling of wanting to do a sort of.. analysis? Essay? I don’t really know what to call it. But regardless…

In my last post, I was kinda critical of G5 over a small scene and even kind of delved into my rather negative thoughts about G5 recently. It doesn’t help that my words of how long G5 is even going to last seems to have become foreboding now that we know Make Your Mark is ending by the end of this year. While Tell Your Tale continues onward for another season, and it will become the new main part of G5 going forward.

This time however, I’m going to provide something on G5 that I am more positive about. And that is the character of Misty Brightdawn.

I will say it right now. I think Misty is the best part of G5 as of right now. I don’t mean any offense to the core 5 before Misty made it a new Mane 6. But seriously, a pony that was adopted by the main villain and unfortunately basically forced to be their minion because Opaline is all she knows essentially until she meets the Main cast of G5 is an interesting story to follow. For anyone who’s ever had a controlling mother figure in their life, or just knows how awful that kind of life can be. She’s instantly sympathetic. It provides so much fuel for interesting stories then any other character currently in G5 and once she joins the main cast. She kinda serves as the true Fluttershy of the gang. Up to and including personality and a butterfly themed cutie mark (As much as Hitch was given the whole animal schtick, he’s always felt more like the Applejack of the group). Do you remember the old concept for G5? In a way we still sort of got the unicorn Fluttershy, and earth pony Twilight in both Misty and Sunny. We didn’t quite get Pegasus Pinkie, instead having a more unicorn Pinkie in Izzy… but you get the idea.

But continuing on, I even mentioned it in the previous post. That one of the few remaining reasons to keep watching G5 is to see where they take Misty from here. The end of Chapter 4 showed she’s not just going to be a new ally/friend. She may be an outright spy on Opaline (Since apparently she’s a huge idiot that can’t see the signs of Misty’s betrayal). What happens to Misty from here should be interesting to see. And what will the final confrontation when Opaline is ultimately defeated be like? What will Opaline’s fate be? How will Misty feel about it? Even if Opaline’s not a good stepmother, She was the one that ultimately took care of her in her young life.

I mean… I suppose G5 has the option to redeem Opaline… buuuuut… excuse me while I say how problematic that would be. And let’s even pretend the whole OPALINE WOULD HAVE LET SPARKY DIE IN THE CHAPTER 4 FINALE didn’t happen for a moment. Supposedly, Opaline has been around since Celestia and Luna were fillies and maybe even was the catalyst for why Equestria is now longer in the golden age of Friendship anymore. Just how do you go about redeeming someone that was evil for that long? I mean, you could bring up Nightmare Moon I suppose and how Luna was stuck in the moon for 1000 years but that was done so out of desperation. Maybe you could say seeing Opaline who was just a little filly who wanted to be friends with Celestia and Luna but was ignored to be something but. It just seems a lot of time has gone by for Opaline to possibly reflect on what they’ve done but not feel remorse for it..

And well… if you include the whole Sparky thing from the Chapter 4 finale… she’s arguably threatened to do worse than almost any G4 villain has in the past. Not one of the terrible trio that was never redeemed threatened to murder a child. So if by G4 standards… Tirek, Cozy, and Chrysalis are not redeemable (At least, within what FiM shows. I know it’s totally up to fanfics if they get redeemed later in some fashion) then what chance does Opaline have after being a terrible stepmother to Misty AND almost killing Sparky. It just would not be a good choice. Opaline either needs to be sealed away forever or even… *GASP* die. And while this probably would happen in like the series finale or something perhaps… it’s still something to think about how Misty would feel that her mother figure, regardless of how evil she was, is just gone like that.

Of course, another subject we can get to is of course the wonder who Misty’s real parents are. Are they even still alive? Was Opaline at all responsible for why they’re missing? How did Misty get into Opaline’s clutches in the first place? (And I mean as in more details then just Opaline found her as a filly) It’s interesting avenues to explore. I’d like G5 to totally go gung ho about what Misty’s full story is. It finally gave G5 something that G4 didn’t already provide…

…OR IS IT?

…Ok to be fair, there is nothing in specifically Friendship is Magic itself that is analogous with Misty at all. But I’d like to remind you of a certain spin-off from Friendship is Magic. One that coincidentally turned 10 recently… I mean of course… the Equestria Girls movies/series.

You may be asking… who in all of the Equestria Girls media was the closest we had to Misty in G4? No one in all of EQG had a villainous stepmother forcing them to do their bidding. And that’s true… but it doesn’t always have to be a family member when it comes to the subject of abuse. Sometimes it can come from fellow peers at school… and even the higher-ups at said school… I am of course talking about…

Sci-Twi! AKA the Human World Twilight that debuted in Friendship Games (…Or Rainbow Rocks if you include the post-credits scene. but you get the idea). Unlike Misty, Sci-Twi probably has a fine enough family at home. I can’t imagine that the human versions of Twilight Velvet and Night Light are too much different from the pony versions. But regardless, here’s the similarities between Sci-Twi and Misty.

They were both generally loners (Although I suppose Sci-Twi did have Dean Cadence and her dog Spike) before they met up with either the Mane 5 of G5 or the HuMane 6 in Equestria Girls. (And needless to say, they both become permanent mainstays of the cast)

They both have (or well, at least had) some sort of magic device they carry with them while they’re meeting up with the main characters. Sci-Twi’s was that thing that sucked up magic, while Misty’s was what she uses to contact Opaline with from long distances.

They are both led astray and gaslit by two elders who blackmail them with serious punishments if they fail. Opaline for Misty, and Principal Cinch for Sci-Twi

They’re both of a more shy type of character, which was notable in Sci-Twi since it was a pretty stark difference from the Pony Twilight we knew. But it didn’t mean she was so different from Twilight that she was just a completely different character. Circumstances changed in their life that resulted in differences in their personality and behavior.

They both get that moment where they’re confronted by the main character(/s) when they had done something of note that was dangerous or was clearly helping the villain. I compare when Sunset was yelling at Sci-Twi after she inadvertently released portals during a motorcycle race that put many in danger with the moment in Chapter 4 when the Mane 5 found out Misty had been assisting Opaline the whole time. And another similarity between the same similarity, they don’t do this if they’re not coerced by a villain. Misty didn’t try to kidnap Sparky because she wanted to, Opaline promised her a cutie mark for doing so. And Cinch was blackmailing Sci-Twi with threatening to deny an application to Everton.

Granted unlike getting a Cutie Mark. Getting into Everton is something that Twilight decides to decline in favor of moving to Canterlot High instead where she could be around new friends. But the main point is both are coerced by something that both characters that we knew they were striving for from the moment we’re introduced to them.

And one more similarity I'll point out is that they're both technically an antagonist but not the kind of antagonist typical of a "minion". Misty's still out there causing some form of trouble for the G5 main cast though is often too clumsy and awkward for it to amount to much. And Sci-Twi's own actions result in some pretty dangerous situations throughout the climax of the film. I actually consider Twilight the antagonist of Friendship Games even if Cinch is the more obvious antagonist, though she and the Crystal Prep girls feel more like a driving force for the sympathetic antagonist we have in Sci-Twi that's forced to become a REAL menace when she transforms into Midnight Sparkle. They're both by all means reasons stuff goes wrong for our heroes, but we feel too bad for them to give them much flack for it.

Of course I am not saying both characters are the same. There are certainly stark differences and contexts between the two. But at their core, Sci-Twi… at least in Friendship Games specifically was the only part of G4 we had anything close to what Misty provides in G5. It’s a different type of abuser, but it’s abuse all the same. As it seems pretty implied that Sci-Twi is often bullied as an outcast in Crystal Prep (While I’m sure she has legit research interest in Everton, part of the reason she wants to be independently studying is probably so she doesn’t have to deal with other students) and how the administration adds to Sci-Twi’s misery by not just doing nothing about it but almost encouraging it, and twisting in some of their own cruelty by forcing Twilight to investigate their opponents so that they may have an advantage so they can keep their “perfect record”. The ending where Twilight transforms into Midnight Sparkle after the song “Unleash the Magic” could just about be an allegory for peer pressure for many things. The effects of what bullying and a school administration that won’t help could do to a person.

Now it’s not like we’re going to get like a Midnight Misty or whatever would be an evil form of Misty be called. But Misty still has something she could share with Sci-Twi. And from an even younger age from her teen years. She was found as a filly by Opaline and she was taken care of by the Alicorn. How well remains to be seen, but it’s clear she has a pretty complicated relationship with her “mother”. Misty’s sheltering seems to have prevented her from learning what her real talent/calling is. So she’s stuck dreaming of eventually having her mark at last. Misty’s main motivation for listening to Opaline is getting her cutie mark at last. I wouldn’t be surprised if Opaline never actually had the means to give Misty a cutie mark (Granted it’s a bit null and void now that Misty does have her cutie mark. But Opaline doesn’t know that yet). But if that’s the case, it will still be a meaningful conversation if Misty ever finds out Opaline wouldn’t have been able to give her what she promised. Maybe it’d even be the straw that breaks the camel’s back and Misty won’t even want to live with Opaline anymore now that she knows just how much Opaline has lied to her for most of her life.

For me personally, both Misty and Sci-Twi are the central reasons to keep watching their respective parts of the MLP franchises. I was not a fan of the first EQG movie, and while Rainbow Rocks was definitely a more than marginal improvement. Something about it still didn’t quite grab me, but its post-credits scene certainly gave me some intrigue. And when it came time for Friendship Games, I was not disappointed. Sci-Twi felt she had hidden depths that I wouldn’t think Equestria Girls would get to in favor of just putting the ponies in high school movie cliches. Sci-Twi basically single handedly turned around my opinion on Equestria Girls as IMO, it got more interesting as they gradually downplayed many of the flaws of the first movie as time went on.

And Misty’s kinda done the same thing in some way for G5. Granted, I definitely think the G5 movie is way better than the first Equestria Girls movie. But as Make Your Mark approached early on. It kinda became clear that the series just isn’t grabbing me in the same way FiM was. And any attempts to try to connect to G4, AKA try to give it more intrigue often fell flat for one reason or another. It took introducing Misty before I had something to motivate me to continue watching. (..Although even Misty’s presence has not made me watch all of Tell Your Tale). I need to continue seeing G5 to see what they do with Misty. It's the main motivation I have for seeing more of G5. It’s just so sad however that it seems Make Your Mark is ending after this year in favor of Tell Your Tale. Maybe they’ll be able to wrap much of Misty’s story by the two remaining chapters we have left and it’ll feel more ok that it’s ending this year rather than have it drag on for too long. But who knows how much room they’ll have when they have to consider storylines for the other 5.

And I apologize if maybe I’m underrating Tell Your Tale a bit. I’ve heard there’s actually some genuine good episodes in it. It’s just that the art style is not that great… and then there’s of course the moment they let Sparky fart in Misty’s face for a punchline. I don’t care how many good episodes Tell Your Tale has, if the series is allowed to go to that level of toilet humor. I’d rather avoid it altogether. The moment they let that happen to one of the most sympathetic and implied abused (Even if it’s mostly emotional than physical) characters that MLP has ever had is when Tell Your Tale lost me as a potential viewer. The only character in G5 that deserves what Misty got in that episode right now is Opaline. ESPECIALLY after what just happened in the Chapter 4 finale. (…And even then, fart jokes are just still too gross)

Anyway, I think that’s all I have to say on the subject. Both Misty and Sci-Twi gave me intrigue into parts of MLP I was otherwise unsure about and without their additions I may have certainly never watched much more of either Equestria Girls or the G5 series. They provided the hook I needed to continue to see more even if I remain iffy on the core concepts that have been there since the original movies in both EQG and G5. Misty’s still a little new compared to Sci-Twi, but hopefully she continues to go in interesting places with her in the story. Just as Sci-Twi did before when I suddenly did become invested in the EQG series from Friendship Games and onward. It’s almost too bad we may only have six months left before Make Your Mark is finished... but let’s hope there’s enough Misty content to satisfy everybody before it does.

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comfy-whumpee · 1 year

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Progress

Almost let the day go by without posting a Jax piece for @ashintheairlikesnow. Happy birthday, co-conspirator. (Izzy is her character.)

Dadjaxtaglist: @bloodybrambles, @wildfaewhump, @lektric-whump, @that-one-thespian, @raigash, @burtlederp, @rosesareviolentlyread, @eatyourdamnpears

“Hi, good to see you.” The young woman on the call has a professional, but genuinely warm smile. “Jax and Kieran?”

“That’s us. I’m Kieran, that’s Jax.”

“It’s great to meet you both. My name’s Mya, I don’t think we’ve spoken before. How are you today?”

Kieran’s hand reaches out to hold his underneath the kitchen table. She can’t see it, but she can see that they’re sitting close, sharing the same space. “Good, yeah, thank you. It’s been a quiet day here, which is unusual.”

She laughs along with the gentle joke. “A rare day in family life. How’s Izzy today?”

She can see the cabinet over Kieran’s shoulder and the oven hood over Jax’s. She can probably see his scarf. She’ll have worked out straight away who was Izzy’s dad by birth. She’ll have known as soon as she saw their faces.

“She’s good as well. She had a little wobble this morning about a test she has in maths, but we got through it. We’re still working on getting her to not mind about these little things.”

“Of course,” Mya agrees, nodding. “I hope she comes home feeling okay about it, even if she’s not at the point where she feels proud yet. Tests like that are mostly for the teacher’s sake, so they can assess how well the class understands things. At Izzy’s age, they might be looking ahead to Year 6 sets, or maybe even SATs.”

She has their address on file somewhere. Safeguarding, they said when they took it. He almost told them it made him feel less safe that they could follow her home. But then his dad had pointed out it also meant they could send someone to check on him, if Izzy ever said there was something wrong.

“Yes, we found out they have sets for English and maths in Year 6. We haven’t told Izzy. We don’t want her to worry about it.”

Mya’s expression shifts to compassionate understanding. “How has she been finding school recently?”

Kieran glances at him, but continues to answer. “Still hard,” he sighs. “She’s come a really long way, of course. She has some good friends now, a couple of close friends. And they’re looking after her there. She gets worried about her grades, but the school are careful not to pressure her as well.”

“Mm,” Mya hums, a noise just to show she’s listening. She’s looking at their picture on the screen, not the camera, which helps. “Is she getting any support from school at the moment?”

It’s been five minutes and she’s only asked questions so far. Is she preparing them for bad news? Jax drums his free hand on the chair underneath him, fingers tapping in a restless beat.

“She has a pastoral chat thing. She gets to talk about her feelings with them, have hot chocolate and biscuits, that’s once a week for about half an hour. But there’s nothing special for her learning anymore. She had extra reading time when she was younger but she got caught up.”

“I’m glad she’s getting some time for herself and she has an adult she can trust at school. How has she been finding the lessons with us?”

Kieran takes a breath, thinking about the questions, the excitement, the doubts, the tears… “It’s been all about getting her into a routine, really. Some days she gets on with it happily, other days she…” He frowns, trying to find the words.

Jax comes back to the present abruptly, a shock of cold air to the face, and creaks into motion. “She thinks it’s confirmation that she’s stupid,” he explains. “She likes to be able to do things on her own without help. She was told that she was stupid a lot growing up.”

Mya holds a perfectly sad expression as she active-listens. “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”

Jax ignores the platitude. “So the tutoring sometimes feels like we’re telling her she can’t do things. She doesn’t want to be a burden on us or make us worry. So she tries really hard to ace it, or she panics and gets overwhelmed by all the pressure she puts on herself.”

“The thing you have to understand about Izzy,” Kieran adds, “is that she’s terrified of disappointing you. If she thinks she has, she takes that as a huge hit to her self-esteem. She expects you to be angry or hate her, or be tired of her. You have to win her trust.”

Jax squeezes his hand. Kieran squeezes back. For a moment, they feel like a perfectly united front against the world.

“That makes sense with what I can see,” Mya tells them. Her eyes flicker sideways to another screen. “Izzy has very high accuracy in her questions and gets most of them right, but she works slowly. It could be that she finds it hard to process things quickly, which you see sometimes when children have missed foundational knowledge, they need longer to fill in their gaps. But it sounds like for Izzy, a big part of it is that she doesn’t want to get anything wrong.”

Jax nods firmly. “That’s definitely her.”

“I’m glad that makes sense to you. You know her better than I ever could, and we always get children on their best behaviour.” Her eyes sparkle with humour, and Jax wonders how many times she’s used that line, and how many children it was less true for than Izzy. “That’s the big challenge for her right now, then. That fear of making mistakes.”

Jax snorts quietly. Right now is an understatement. That’s been the challenge her whole life. The fear of… No, not mistakes. “She’s scared of not being enough. Her paediatric psych is working on it with her.”

“But it takes a long time,” Kieran picks up the thought.

Mya nods in understanding. “Of course. Are there any strategies you use at home that we can borrow? If there’s something that works for her…”

They look at each other. Strategies are Kieran’s thing; Jax goes by instinct, and it hasn’t failed him yet. “Mostly…” Kieran thinks aloud, “we tell her that we love her. And that we’re proud of her, that she’s awesome, no matter what. Because of things she’s already done or other things she can do.”

Mya listens gravely, her eyes still on the screen. She looks like she’s taking notes.

“Jax does this thing,” Kieran looks at him with a fond smile, faint enough Mya doesn’t get to see, “where he tells her things that she’s good at. She likes being helpful, so he tells her she’s a good helper, and she’s a good dancer, and she’s fun to play with, and she is lovely. We want her to see herself as a rounded individual.”

“We can definitely do that,” Mya offers. “To help her focus on her achievements and not just her challenges. We wouldn’t say that we’re proud, necessarily, because I feel that approval is best given by caregivers, but we can recognise her effort and praise it. We don’t focus on marks here anyway, that’s not what we do.”

“That’s why we chose you,” Kieran agrees. “It’s not about tests and grades. She thinks it is, but it’s not. We just want what’s best for her.”

“Of course. That’s what I want too. And that looks different for every child, and in every parent’s eyes, but I am so on board with what you want Izzy to develop in herself. I want us to come back in six months’ time for our next meeting and be able to look back at how confident she’s become.”

The passion is audible in her voice. Jax feels his shoulders loosening. He’d had the final say on whether they went to a tutoring place. Izzy had been important, but she was still a kid. The place had to have the right vibe. If anything had come across off, he would’ve pulled her out so fast.

But this reminded him of the teachers who had got his ADHD. The ones who had been able to get him to focus while keeping him on their side. It reminded him of his dad. Of Kieran. Somewhere that would try to understand who she was, not make her fit a mould.

They hadn’t been easy customers. That one teacher who didn’t help her with her reading when she was struggling through it, they made sure he never had access to their little girl again. The perfectly nice woman with the blue eyes, who Kieran hadn’t realised the problem with until Jax got a look at her, she was on the blacklist as well. They’d sent strongly-worded emails about the occasional slip of mummy and daddy. And if the tutor changed short-notice, well… They would turn around and walk right back out again, damn the cost of the missed lesson.

But after all his demanding standards for kindness and sensitivity, and all of Kieran’s exacting questions about safeguarding and wellbeing, they’d found a place that had passed muster. They had eyes on her progress, in more detail than school ever gave them. They had time for her learning that didn’t demand more of Kieran, with his work, and Jax, with the demons of his own. Space for her, without Jamie. Just Izzy and her tutor.

Just Izzy. Not having to be anyone else. That was what he’d promised her when they went. If they don’t like you for just Izzy then they are no good. Because you are perfect.

She’d been so scared. Her hand was bigger now, but still tiny, clutching his.

Because what are you? Crouching down beside her before they went in, holding her wide eyes in his gaze.

Her voice a whisper. I’m safe, daddy.

That’s right. And I love you. So let’s be brave.

“Be brave,” he says aloud. Kieran breaks off what he’s saying, something about comprehension or number bonds or whatever the fuck. “That’s what we say to her. To be brave together.”

The manager doesn’t seem put off by him interrupting. She only smiles, and she seems approving, not dismissive. She seems to…trust him, about all things Izzy. “I love that. We can be part of that for her. To help Izzy be brave.”

She’s already brave, his defensive instinct fires off before he can shove it. She’s perfect. Leave her alone. But that’s not what’s happening. No disparaging remarks, no rolling eyes and shouldn’t she know that by now? He’s fighting to protect her from threats that aren’t around anymore.

Kieran’s hand squeezes his lightly. “That’s our goal. We’d be happy if nobody praised her for her grades or her good behaviour. She doesn’t know it, but it’s her personal development we’re here for.”

The grades are just a distraction. Fuck school, it’s bullshit up until the end anyway. Fuck SATs and top set and grammar school applications and whatever else the fuck those kids are going through. He just wants her to be happy. That’s all he wants.

If that means listening to this woman talk about times tables and exception words, Jax can do it. If it means letting her join them on a video call, letting her see his face and his scarf and his home, so be it. If it involves letting them know who he is and where he lives, even though that information will be fiercely guarded for the rest of his life, he’s already done it. He can give more for her. He can always give more, so one day, she has everything.

#heavily inspired by my old job here #i think about teaching a kiddo like izzy a lot #recovery #comf #jax #kieran #my fic #dad jax #aftermath of abuse

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vicsuragi · 2 years

Text

i don’t want this to happen in the show necessarily but oh do i think it’d be funny that if at the end of ofmd when ed and stede are matelotaged and the rest of the crew is still pirating it up, izzy ends up at spanish jackie’z and is upset that ed doesn’t need him anymore. he’s wallowing in self pity and he’s unsure what to do next and suddenly, there he is.

sure, he is still healing the wound he sustained when the cannon ball hit him (thankfully it missed all of the important bits!), but for all intents and purposes he’s functioning like normal. izzy is seething because goddammit, jack is still alive and kicking, which only gets worse when jack sits down at his table and orders a drink, ensuring he will be hanging around to bother izzy. jack starts on a rant about stede, how ed must have lost his mind falling for a fop like him, and izzy agrees deep down, but that anger doesn’t reach his lips like it used to. he tells jack as much, that he does still resent bonnet for aiding in izzy losing his closest friend, but he realizes that somewhere deep down in himself that he and ed hadn’t actually been friends in ages and all of his desperation to be ed’s favorite had been for naught.

the two drink, jack tells a few stories about what he got up to after the cannon ball got him, and izzy asks how many lives he must have left what with the mutinies, the stupid games he plays, the constant brushes with death. jack doesn’t know, he doesn’t like to think about dying. he insists that he’ll live forever, that if he was going to die he would have done it by now. maybe he even gets a little introspective for a rare moment in his life and says that even if he did die, it wouldn’t necessarily matter since nobody likes him. izzy feels something he hasn’t felt in ages - or, at least, he feels something that might not exactly be misplaced.

the night is winding down, so they decide they should saddle up and leave. izzy has a room at an inn just a little ways out, and jack insists on being chivalrous and walking him back (’yer just stumbling, is all, don’t want you to end up at the end of somebody’s sword just ‘cause you were at the wrong place, wrong time’). he doesn’t know why jack would do that for him, but he takes the company nonetheless. it’s better than being alone again.

jack doesn’t stop rambling the entire walk, something that’s actually kind of a comfort instead of a nuisance, and once they’re at the inn, he waves izzy off, saying they’ll probably run into each other again. it’s not like he actually cares, of course, but he asks where jack’s going, and he says he’s off to the next tavern that’s still serving, that the night’s not over yet.

he must not be thinking clearly when he asks if jack wants to stay the night. not for any buggery business, he makes that clear, just to ensure that he doesn’t get himself into any fights or drown in the water nearby trying to whip seagulls on the tide. he doesn’t respond at first, he watches izzy with glassy stare and tips his head to the side while he processes everything through the liquor-induced haze.

izzy crawls into his rented bed while jack’s body goes lax in a chair at his bedside, hand gripping his whip’s handle instinctively just like when they were on hornigold’s ship. he stays awake a while, watching to see if he’ll drop his grip or if he’ll get up and use that whip against izzy; that thought might even excite him a little bit. and yet, his hand never moves, and his eyes don’t open.

he awakes early in the morning, finding his room empty. izzy wonders if last night actually happened, if maybe he just got so drunk he imagined jack went back to the room with him, if he imagined that jack was even there to begin with. he goes out to the dock, he’s been going out and intending to look for a new captain for weeks now but simply ends up lingering by the shore, watching ships come in and go out before he heads back to spanish jackie’z. he starts to think he can’t go back on the ocean, that everything will remind him of edward and that once they exited each other’s life, it marked the end of whoever izzy knew himself to be.

he’s not surprised when he ends up back at spanish jackie’z, having made no attempt to get back out there. tomorrow, he’ll stop going out there. he’s been sailing so long that the sea has made him small, bitter, older than he has any right to be. he has no unfinished business out there, he doesn’t have anymore business out there period. but he has no idea what he’ll do if he’s not out plundering and looting and waiting to die in a fight or by an untreated wound he could no longer patch up himself. he can’t imagine a life of lounging, eating fruit that seems bountiful and endless, getting old and gray and not fearing the inevitable shutdown of his body because there’s someone else there to endure it with him.

izzy ends up finding work at spanish jackie’z when he can no longer pay his tab, but he doesn’t necessarily hate it. he has a superior who is curt with him when she needs to be, he always has something to do, and he can still spit orders at customers who are getting too out of hand. he’s adjusting well to his job at the tavern when he comes back.

jack is banged up again, he insists with a smirk that izzy would be sick if he saw the other guy, but quickly chokes some blood up onto the counter. izzy ends up reluctantly helping jack, thinking it’ll at least net him another favor in the future should he need it. while he’s being patched up on izzy’s bed, jack asks if he’s using up another life. izzy tells him to stop talking like that, that it’s just a little bleeding and some bruising, it’ll be just fine.

izzy feels like he’s receiving some divine intervention when jack ends up staying with him for a few weeks while he heals. he’s annoying, he’s gross, he keeps asking for stories about his fun times with blackbeard, but izzy doesn’t think he actually minds the company at the end of the day. he likes returning back to the inn and finding jack there instead of a cold, dark room, he likes sharing meals with him, he likes the feeling that he’s not alone in the world.

when jack is finally well enough to go out on his own again, izzy expects that it’ll be weeks, maybe even months before their paths cross again. but, jack proposes something to him - he asks if izzy wants to sail again.

of course, he has to think this over; he was just starting to get comfortable on land. he might have been starting to like the idea of living a safer life, enjoyed staying in the republic of pirates as a change of pace. he spent a majority of his life at sea, and the memories of ed were coming back hard and fast.

izzy tells jack as much, that if he has an out from piracy, he’ll take it. he calls him boring, asking why he’d want to give it all up just because he had a 9-5 now. izzy is baffled why everyone suddenly thinks piracy is fun, that always having to watch your back among your own men is enjoyable, that the constant threat of being captured and hanged by the british navy was just a fun quirk and not a genuine hazard of the job. he asks why jack wouldn’t take an out himself if one was presented to him.

so, jack asks right then and there if izzy has an out for him. he doesn’t say anything back. jack knows he’s a liability and a fuckup, that nobody willingly takes him on unless they don’t already know the consequences of letting him aboard their ship and into their lives. izzy is fully aware of those risks, and he still, for some stupid reason, thinks maybe having jack around wouldn’t be so bad.

he tells jack that he’d take him on here, on land, that it could be good for the both of them. izzy can tell jack is hesitant, that he’s also been away for so long that it doesn’t necessarily feel right to stay still like this. but, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if they did.

maybe from there jack becomes a fisherman, somehow managing to successfully whip fish and sell them to the inns and taverns and visiting pirates, he’s still with the sea every day he’s just not out causing havoc on it. he comes back to the inn every night, finding izzy hissing as he cracks his aching shoulders and neck, and he settles down beside him reeking of fish guts and salty ocean air. they share a tiny room that feels spacious compared to cramped ship quarters and start to learn to move around each other, they bicker, they share the bed after an adjustment period, and they drink each other under the table when they can afford to feel like shit in the morning. it wasn’t exactly what izzy pictured, even less so jack, but it feels real to him, to them both. and all he could have ever wanted was something that was real and reciprocal.

#our flag means death #ofmd #izzy hands #calico jack #calicohands #cjizzy #i don't know what this is this got away from me so quickly #my writing #i guess??#i also don't necessarily know if this was my original idea when i started writing this but anyways yeah bye

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backhurtyy · 1 year

Text

okay hear me out… gentlebeard enchanted au

stede lives in the real world, working a corporate job as a manager or lawyer or something like that. he and mary are divorced amicably after being shoved together because their parents were old family friends, and he takes care of alma and louis on the weekends. all things considered he has a pretty good life, but he’s just… lonely and unhappy and disenchanted with life. he wants companionship, magic, love… the stuff of fairytales.

ed lives in the fairytale world, where he’s still a pirate, still blackbeard, still feared across the seas. but he’s getting tired of that life, of constantly being on the go. his knee gets a little worse with each day, he doesn’t heal as fast as he used to, he doesn’t get any joy from it anymore. he’s bored and tired and lonely, because despite being the most famous pirate, no one really gets close to him out of fear. he wants a quiet life with a partner, someone that he can sit down next to and call home. the closest thing he has to a friend is izzy, but he’s half the reason why ed hasn’t been able to find that— whenever he mentions it, izzy starts going on about how “you’re fucking blackbeard, you can’t fucking retire.”

and then, through some means— a cyclone created by a witch, a spell cast by a rival pirate, whatever— ed is transported to the real world. it’s loud and dizzying and confusing and izzy is nowhere to be found, and ed doesn’t know what to do. he spends the night trudging through the rain and dark, trying to find his way to the ship even though he knows he won’t find it. stede, meanwhile, is picking up alma and louis from mary’s for their weekend at their house, when he finds ed, standing by the billboard of a ship that stands by the mini golf circuit. before he can stop them, alma and louis are rushing out to talk to him, this man in leather with a gun strapped to his thigh.

anyways stede takes him in, because he’s cold and wet and limping and yeah okay maybe he’s a little handsome. but he’s still on edge because he has his kids to look after, and the stories ed tells are definitely not suitable for children to hear and the way he talks about this izzy guy makes stede worry about their safety should he show up, the way ed seems so sure he will. so he takes ed to work with him to try and get him help, but he has no money or ID or passport or anything, so they’re stuck together. they spend the next few days together, eating food and walking around the city, and despite all his worries stede is just so helplessly enchanted by ed and his reactions and his stories and how much alma and louis love him already.

ed, meanwhile, is having the best time he’s had in ages. he’s laughing more than he ever has, his knee has gotten a break due to stede’s heating pad, he’s excited by the prospect of waking up and seeing what this strange world has to offer. but it’s bittersweet, too, because he knows izzy will be looking for him. and when he finds him— he always finds ed, that’s why he’s such a good first mate— he’ll drag him back to their world. away from happiness. away from stede.

sure enough izzy shows up and they get in a big fight, one involving lots of sword fighting and shouting and the vicious sort of bickering that comes with a decades long friendship. finally though ed manages to get izzy pinned down, and he tells him that izzy can go back and take up the mantle of blackbeard, but ed is done. he doesn’t want to leave stede or the life he’s found, because he’s finally happy for once. he’s finally in love with something again.

so izzy leaves and ed stays with stede and his family, and he gets that sense of home and excitement that he’d been craving while stede gets all the love and magic of a fairytale, and they find their happily ever after together.

#this is absolutely consuming my mind. it will most likely turn into a fic.#whether that’ll ever be finished remains to be seen. but i’m thinking about it.#they are just so… something about them finding each other and helping fill the empty spaces. idk.#i love them i love them i love them #also the rest of the crews are there too don’t worry. i just didn’t want this to get too unweildly just yet #our flag means death #ofmd #gentlebeard #gentlebeard ofmd au #nellie.txt

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dragonmuse · 2 years

Note

for the smut prompts: in the Izzy/Lucius/Pete AU it was mentioned that Izzy is sometimes bratty and Lucius “settles” him. Could we see one of those scenes?

( I can't find it anymore, but I know someone else requested this. AsIsHerRight, maybe? ANYWAY here it is!)

“And then he cut me off,” Izzy was really in a full head of steam. Pete watched him pace back and forth. “Fucking motherfucker.”

“Yeah?”

“Can you fucking believe that shit?”

“Iz, that had to be hours ago.”

“Does that make it less of a traffic violation?” he snarled. “Could’ve lost my front fender.”

“Okay, okay,” Pete sighed. “But I need you to like, slow down for a minute. You didn’t put in your schedule for next month and if I don’t schedule this appointment soon, you’re going to be waiting until next year.”

“What does it matter?” Izzy waved that off. “Whenever.”

“Not whenever. You can’t blow off your stress test again.”

“I run every day,” Izzy gritted out. “I’m fucking fine.”

“Great! Then do it at the damn doctor.”

“I had my physical a goddamn month ago. My blood pressure is fine!”

Izzy hadn’t stopped pacing.

Time was, Pete would deal with this by just leaving him to it for a half hour or so then come back with a drink or a snack and just to wheedle him into a better mood. Sometimes it was even fun, but tonight he was annoyed and tired himself.

An idea kindled in him. He wasn’t in this alone anymore. As if summoned by the very thought, Luicus came out of the bathroom, steam wafting behind him and a towel barely hanging around his waist.

“Babe!” Pete flashed him a bright, possibly slightly manic smile.

“Uh, yeah?”

“He’s acting like an asshole,” Pete pointed to Izzy, who froze at being called out. “Could you just take him to the bedroom and spank him or something? I’m tapped out.”

He girded himself for Izzy to further explode, but if anything, he subsided into a bizarre calm. The air suddenly supercharged. For his part, Lucius shifted his weight and the cheery bafflement gave way to something cooler, calmer.

“Are you coming?” Lucius glanced at Pete.

“No,” he did not feel like seeing anyone naked just then.

“All right. You heard the man,” Lucius’ eyes snapped to Izzy. “Go to the bedroom, you kneel and wait for me. Put yourself in a more agreeable mood because apparently you’ve earned whatever I decide you’ve got coming and you better take it sweetly.”

And to Pete’s quiet shock, Izzy just went. He disappeared into the bedroom and the sounds of cloth hitting the floor were loud in the sudden silence.

“I-” Pete started. “Was that okay?”

“Was it okay?” Lucius grinned, the coolness gone as quickly as it came. “It was hot as hell. You know I like when you backseat dom.”

“I don’t really want to,” Pete groaned. “But I also wasn’t in the mood to wrestle the bear.”

“Oh, babe,” Lucius stepped closer and kissed him once. “You’re the bear here, hottie. But I hear you. I’ve got it. We’ll be a half hour or so. Why don’t you relax too and we’ll have dinner together after?”

“It’s already in the oven,” he agreed. “I’ll keep an eye on it. Have fun.”

“Thanks, babe,” Lucius kissed him then walked into the bedroom and slammed the door very pointedly. Pete didn’t take offense, he knew that wasn’t for him.

Still a little wound up, Pete tried to figure out what to do with himself. After a little dithering, he picked up the paper. He’d read through most of it this morning, but he hadn’t done the sudoku puzzle yet. He wasn’t very good at them, but he liked to take a pass at it anyway, then if it was giving him trouble, he’d make Izzy finish it out. The numbers seemed to just fall into place for him and Pete liked watching Izzy be competent.

So he was flicking his pencil carefully over boxes when he heard the slap of leather on skin and the grunt of impact. It was such a small slip of sound, but Pete could see the moment as vividly as if it was playing out in front of him after witnessing it so many times. Izzy was probably bent over the bed. The crack was louder than the actual impact, the doubled over belt always making an impressive noise.

Lucius really only used the belt to make a point, rarely hitting Izzy with it more than four or five times. Absently, Pete counted the blows. Three. Four. Five. Six....Seven. Oof that one sounded hard, but no more followed. Instead, there was Lucius' voice, strident and clear.

Pete set down pencil and paper. He dropped his head to the back of the couch, catching muffled noises. The sheets shifting and then clink of the glass bottle of lube being set down. He wondered if Lucius would bottom. It seemed likely if he’d just showered. He could picture him straddling Izzy’s narrow hips, hands on Izzy’s chest, holding him in place.

He considered his own suddenly insistent erection.

Well. No one would judge him if he indulged, he decided.

With a flick of his wrist, he had himself in hand. Trying to keep his breath even so it wouldn’t blot out the noises, Pete played the movie of it in his head. The way Lucius would spear himself with long clever fingers, a fast preparation while Izzy watched hungrily. Izzy would be still though, silent. One of Lucius’ favorite orders was ‘no talking’ which Pete would never understand. He loved Izzy’s filthy mouth, obscenities pouring from it as they took each other apart.

A moan crept under the door and that one Pete definitely knew. He could see Luicus sliding down, taking Izzy into himself as if it were as simple as opening a door. Pete pulled on himself, recalling Lucuis’ tight heat. He liked when Lucius rode him, but his favorite was on their sides, negating the height difference and bringing them so close together.

Still, the image of Lucius above Izzy, taking his time and teasing things out just as long as he wanted them to last was hot in its own right. Delicious gasps of sound came through the walls now and Pete sped up along with them. Out here, he didn’t have anyone to impress and no one to satisfy, so he didn’t think about lasting. He just came hard, biting his lip so as not to draw attention even as he shuddered through it.

Then he lay there, spent, smiling up at the ceiling as they continued on behind him. It had only been ten or so minutes. Lucius was going to do something to draw it out. And for tonight, Pete didn’t have to care which was weirdly relieving. He could just clean himself up, then go back to his puzzle. With post-nut clarity, he even solved it.

The oven timer dinged and he got out the casserole, covering it with tinfoil so it would stay warm. Pete felt like that. Covered and warm as he waited. It wasn’t much longer really. Eventually the bedroom door opened again and Luicus came out, heading back to the bathroom, but he paused to kiss Pete.

“Why don’t you go lay down with him for a minute, babe?” Lucius smiled into the kiss. “You should enjoy some of your own idea.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, very.”

So Pete went into the bedroom. Izzy was still smeared over the bed, eyes heavy-lidded and a litter of pink marks just starting to fade from his chest. Places where Lucius had likely bitten him. As soon as Pete crossed the threshold, Izzy held out a hand to him. Pleased, Pete took it, laying down beside him on his side.

“Was that okay?” Pete checked.

“Mm,” Izzy rolled carefully over to face him. “Yeah. Sorry, you’re right, I was being a fucking dick. I’ll put my timing on the calendar.”

“Okay,” Pete squeezed his hand. “Thanks. Guess I was kind of in a mood too.”

“Should’ve noticed,” Izzy said ruefully. “Rough day?”

“Some. That gown we were working on for the past few weeks...the customer can’t pay for it and we’re trying to figure out how to handle it. John wants to just give it to them anyway. Frenchie was ready to rip the thing up.”

“What about you?”

“Dunno. Makes me sad mostly. They thought they had the cash, it wasn’t a lie or anything. And we did all the work.”

“Payment plan?” Izzy suggested.

“You think? How would we enforce that?”

Izzy considered and Pete got to watch the cogs start to turn again behind those lovely dark eyes. He was content to just rest there, watching for as long as it took.

“Might not this time, but you should have it in your contract going forward,” Izzy rumbled. “Want me to talk to Flint? He’s got a contract law guy, I bet. Get you a boilerplate to start with.”

“Would you?” Pete nodded. “That’d be good. I bet I can get John and Frenchie on board too. I’ll suggest the payment plan. At least we’d get something back.”

“Make them model it for you,” Lucius stepped back into the bedroom. “Iz can take the photos, be good promo.”

“Fuck you two are so smart,” Pete laughed. “You want to be consultants.”

“Absolutely not,” Izzy grumbled.

“Yeah, no thanks, sweetie,” Luicus sat down, the bed dipping and Pete rolling towards him a little. “You guys ready to eat?”

“Yeah,” Pete stretched. “Iz?”

“Past ready.”

They ate in varying stages of nakedness, Izzy taking his plate on the floor at Lucius’s feet, but resting his head from time to time against Pete’s knee. The world rebalanced and Pete sank happily into it.

#leda house and the kraken verse #ficlet #feels just like i'm falling for the first time #pete black #izzy hands #lucius black

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cityandking · 11 months

Text

dai/zaref (& ozy) + pacific rim au. 1.7k

He finds Zaref in the command hub, already hooked into comms, eyes half glazed that way he gets when he’s processing the endless stream of incoming information. Scratch sits next to him, chair twisting this way and that as she types away at her tablet, muttering numbers under her breath. Zaref looks almost peaceful by comparison, slight twitch of his mouth the only thing to belie his worry. Daichi stills a moment to watch him, a pillar stood still and solid in the churning mess of the command center. He makes the same picture he always makes, and it gives Daichi pause the way it always does.

Then one of the Jaeger techs brushes past him, close enough to nearly knock shoulders, and he steps into the slipstream of the chaos.

"Hello.” He’s almost on top of him before Zaref looks up, startled by his nearness. The twins are there too, half watching and half playing some kind of finger-count game. He ignores them for the most part, used to their eyes and the air of judgment they exude. Whatever early-days familiarity they have with Zaref, it doesn’t bother him anymore.

Mostly. There are other things to worry about.

“Hello,” Zaref returns. He’s tired these days. They all are, of course, but Zaref particularly.

“You needed me?”

That gets a twitch of amusement, like Zaref appreciates the double meaning. Satisfaction flashes through him in turn; it’s rare he gets his words so right. Scratch spins around in her chair to check something on one of her half dozen monitors, chatting away to Dobin on the other end of her line, paying the exchange no mind.

“Yes,” says Zaref with the same layered understanding, and Daichi hides his smile in the nod of his head. “Scratch, you have the conn.”

“Yep, got it,” she confirms, never once looking up from her screens. She adjusts her headset as Zaref hooks his off, and Daichi ignores the eyes on them as they step out of the command hub altogether. He swallows back his questions. If Zaref’s holding a briefing outside the hub, it must be important.

Or, maybe it’s not the brief itself that’s sensitive. It doesn’t take him long to recognize the route they’re taking, and they’re halfway down the hall when Zaref slows and stops, shoulders braced.

They don’t need to worry about anyone bothering them, not here. Only a select few come to this part of the base.

“Is this— Are we here for you?” Daichi asks. It’s a tender subject, one he isn’t quite graceful enough to dance around. Zaref’s lips thin, almost imperceptible. A no, then.

“A new pilot arrived on the morning flight,” he replies.

Ah. Daichi understands. He lets the sting of not-knowing pass over him. He trusts Zaref to tell him when things are important—like now, paused three quarters of the way to the dojo, deep enough in the base that the chaos and the fear can’t touch them.

The sting of Zaref’s quiet refusal is a harder one to let go, but that regret is old and familiar, and it only aches a little. The hope sticks furious under his breastbone that one day Zaref will trust him beyond the mats of the dojo and the meager privacy of a bunk.

Not that he doesn’t. Not that Daichi doesn’t know he does. He just hopes, is all.

But Zaref doesn’t drift—hasn’t ever, according to his file. Rumor is that’s what washed him out of the ranger program, but Daichi’s always had a sense there’s more to the story.

“Who?” he asks.

“He says his name is Ozymandias.”

“Auspicious.”

“Something like that,” Zaref agrees dryly, mouth tilting up, all wryness and exhaustion and the fraying gallows humor they hang by. “Sunburst’s repairs will be finished soon.”

And Daichi will need a copilot, now that Izzy has relocated to the other side of the Pacific. As with most things regarding Izzy, he does his best to not let himself linger on that.

“Where was his last posting?”

“Sydney.”

Daichi frowns. There hasn’t been an active Jaeger program in Sydney in nearly a decade. Zaref, seeing his confusion, adds, “He came recommended by Kallux.”

His frown deepens. “Private sector?” He tries not to let the disapproval color his voice, but it’s difficult. The private sector causes more problems than just the black market trade of kaiju parts, and not everyone is as forthcoming as Scratch’s friends. “Has he piloted since then?”

“Yes. Scratch can send you the file.”

“And you want him?”

“I don’t think want has anything to do with it,” Zaref returns, mouth pursed. Daichi winces—he certainly hadn’t meant it like that—but Zaref is frowning again, almost hesitant. “He… claims he brings nothing to the drift.”

Daichi eyes Zaref. “Do you believe him?”

Daichi’s heard people say it before. It rarely holds up when the neural link connects. Silence, he’s found, is a rather subjective experience.

“I’d like you to check.” He makes a face, almost apologetic. “I know it hasn’t been long since Izzy left, but—”

“We need pilots.” They’ve had bad luck lately—bad before they lost Marshal Frida and worse after. There’s a reason Scratch is up half the night with Dobin, both of them plugged into their calculations, frowning about shrinking windows between breaches. There’s a reason they’re all so tired.

“Yes.”

“Alright.”

“If it doesn’t work—”

“It’s alright,” Daichi says again. “I wasn’t going to drift with her again either way.”

Zaref’s expression goes pensive as he touches the scar at Daichi’s temple. It doesn’t look nearly as bad now as it had three weeks ago—he’s been patched up by the best they have, same as Sunburst Mantle.

“Maybe one day.”

“Maybe,” he allows, but he doesn’t think Zaref believes it any more than he does. It had been a bad argument to drive her a hemisphere away, and that had been his fault. He still feels bad about it. He knows the others miss her too, particularly Zaref—and not only because it leaves him with one half of a benched Jaeger crew.

Maybe not benched, if Zaref has found him a new copilot. What luck that this Shatterdome just so happens to have an extra ranger on the loose.

“We shouldn’t keep him waiting,” he says, turning to press a kiss against Zaref’s wrist and tug his hand down from where his thumb is sweeping distractingly over the curve of his ear. “If this goes well, maybe you’ll be able to bench the twins.”

“I wish I could bench the twins,” Zaref sighs, giving his hand a squeeze and pulling back, shoulders straightening and expression smoothing, falling back into the role of Chief Officer. It’s a pity—Daichi likes him soft.

When they reach the door at the end of the hall, it’s cracked open. Daichi wonders briefly how far the sound carries. If it had been closed before they stopped to talk.

“Just,” says Zaref on the threshold, a hitch of hesitation. “Don’t force it.”

“Of course not,” Daichi says, wry and lying and obvious. Zaref huffs, unamused and unimpressed and unsurprised, and opens the door.

The dojo is as still as it always is, heavy with a dusty sort of silence despite its pristine condition. A pair of boots sits at the edge of the mat, neatly squared, and in the center of the room is a man. The new ranger. Ozymandias.

A little grandiose as far as names go, but those in the Jaeger program can hardly be accused of humble or sensible naming conventions. And the folly of forgotten kings is perhaps not the worst thing to reference, even if the lone and level sands are a long way from the ocean-bound Jaeger program.

He stands facing away from the door, hands folded behind his back, at ease. He’s a little taller than Daichi, maybe, and he wears his hair long and golden and threaded with grey. There’s a squareness to his stance that speaks to military training. He doesn’t move as the door swing shut behind them.

“Ozymandias?”

“Ozy,” he offers, finally turning around. He has the barest hint of an accent, Mediterranean maybe, flattened by time and travel, and a strange coloring in one eye. Daichi can’t tell if it’s blind or not. He tilts his head, nearly birdlike as he looks between the two of them, and Daichi understands why Zaref might believe it when he claims he brings nothing to the drift: there’s an unsettling blankness in his gaze.

“Daichi,” he bows. “Sunburst Mantle.”

“I know.” He doesn’t offer up an introduction of his own.

Across the room, Zaref catches his eye, a silent question. Daichi shakes his head and bends to unlace his boots. Zaref doesn’t need to stay. In all honesty, Daichi doesn’t think they need the spar. He can already see something familiar in the man, the kind of understanding that lends itself well to a neural link. He isn’t sure he likes it, but the liking doesn’t matter.

Over Ozy’s shoulder, Zaref gives him a lingering look—warning, almost, which is as sweet as it is pointless—and slips out the door. Ozy’s mouth twitches as the latch clicks.

“Method?” Daichi asks.

“Hand-to-hand is fine.” He sinks into an opening stance—Pále, it looks like. Interesting. “If it’s alright with you.”

Daichi settles into position in turn, rolling out his shoulders. “Are you sure you want to return to the Corps after so long?”

Ozy’s mouth twitches again—a smile, sanded down. “I don’t think want has anything to do with it,” he says. “My path led me here. Isn’t that enough.”

“Maybe,” Daichi allows.

He’s right about the spar being unnecessary—as they prove four hours later, when Dobin’s grim prediction proves true and a Cat IV spills out of the breach, sprinting over the Bonin Trench. Later, when they’re back on base, Zaref finds him in a slip of privacy, holds him tight by the shoulders and takes a long, trembling moment to say—

“Well?”

“He’s right,” Daichi says, forehead pressed against the thrum of Zaref’s pulse, the reminder that they’re alive, at least until the next attack. It had been a bad fight—they’re all bad fights, these days—but not nearly as unsettling as the bare desert of Ozymandias, sands unstirred by any breeze of thought or desire. “He brings nothing.”

“Is that alright?”

It is what it is. “We need pilots,” he says.

Want has nothing to do with it.

#I'm honestly kind of dissatisfied with this but it's been in my drafts for fully 2 years so fuck it!!!!!!#(I think it was an oc kiss week prompt from 2021 and they don't even kiss these fuckers)#like idk if I'd Actually consider this canon (au-non?) for Dai and Ozy's introduction #ozy wasn't even supposed to be here #other fun facts: Bran is the Marshal on duty at the LA Shatterdome (Eniko is her mission controller/chief officer)#Zaref is the Chief Officer at this Shatterdome (idk where they're located maybe Shanghai or Tokyo?) but their Marshal is dead #Ozy has obviously been doing *waves hand* Stuff with kallux and their Secret Organization #nobody can stand the twins #Sunburst Mantle went down hard fighting a Cat 4 lava shark; daichi nearly died #then he and izzy had a big blow-up fight about it and now they can't/won't drift together and she's gone to Vancouver to work as a j-tech #au #.pacrim au #mine; daichi

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knowlesian · 2 years

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my last post and the shameless mountain goats reference i threw in there got me thinking about one of my favorite story beats, because it combines a lot of character work and thematic oomph in one: ed being a victim of his own legend and ability to protect himself by hiding in plain sight + codeswitch into the version of himself that best suits the company/situation he’s in, in many ways but often most visibly through his interactions with izzy.

my take on “is blackbeard real or fake” has always been “yes”; blackbeard is pieces of ed filtered and strained and assembled and pruned down in ways that scarred him even as they kept him safe, in ways that are very sad and often stretching the definition of safe as far as ed’s personal definition of murder. nonetheless: it got him to the place he's at, still alive. could he have done it another way? who knows! that was the way he did it, it's the way he knows will work because it did work.

or: he thinks he knows that. but the legend was never all of ed and in fact demanded he spotlight pieces of himself he doesn't like so much a lot and repress a lot of the things that make him feel good, it’s not helping/hurting anymore. it’s just dragging him down.

so ed is sick of the blackbeard schtick; and here’s the rub. if he’d been worse at the art of personal fuckery alongside the pirate type, maybe none of this is happening. the world never knows his name; or worse, once he gets spotted as a man who won't kill they mock it.

that version of ed does not attract izzy ‘ask me about my boner for the sunk cost fallacy’ hands, or does not keep him. because izzy has built his identity around ed’s legend; who is blackbeard’s first mate, if there is no blackbeard? who the fuck even is izzy hands, if he’s not seated at the right hand of edward teach?

now. you would hope, in a better world, that izzy would be like you know, edward, the thing here is: you wanting something different involves emotional consequences for me. i would have to figure out my whole life over again and i am simultaneously con o’neill’s age and emotionally sixteen like the real world me was, so you can see that would be super complicated. i have so fucking much baggage and you are just adding to it, and i do not like that. also: this fucks up my work situation and my home life at once, it makes me feel sad and abandoned and itchy in ways i do not wish to label with words because they would be gay ones like ‘please don’t leave me, i love you and i thought it was mutual’ so like... world rocked, thoroughly and in ways that make me want to rant until past last call, in conclusion this sucks and i think it's twenty mistakes in a trenchcoat, some of them maybe life threatening! i wish you would not.

and then he would step back and let ed make his own fucking choices anyway and either do the work to figure himself out in the same space or finally grab those cds from the car and find his own place to do the same, because a shitty fact of adult life is sometimes people cannot be what we want or need. sometimes that is because they suck: sometimes, it’s just because they can’t or don't want to, and that isn't them being mean or withholding. they don't owe us more than the basic kindness and dignity we all owe to each other just because we put in our hours longing for them to do so. that’s some toxic, entitled shit. understandable! an impulse i share at times! but we should never be That Guy (gender neutral) because the friendzone doesn’t actually exist and nobody deserves to win someone else as a prize for hanging around long enough and driving them to the airport. that’s just called being friends, etc.

izzy is sadly currently stuck on being That Guy. so instead of realizing ed is an adult man and can make his own choices, even if izzy thinks they're bad ones, he fucking panics and starts swinging around and finally runs to big daddy england to make stede bonnet stooooooooop (messing with ed’s brain).

and of course he does something like that! he thinks a relationship is when you metaphorically own each other and when you can only be tender after putting your right foot in and then putting it out before once again putting it in and then proceeding to shake it all about, violent rituals unlock love style. he’s a desperate man in a hell entirely of his own making.

and so is ed, in this entirely different way but stuck in his own fucking orbit as firmly as izzy, only ed is trying to claw his way up and out to see what else he can be, while izzy would do juuuust about anything (including lick the king’s boots) to stay the same forever.

that’s some tragic shit. i love this writing team, the end.

#what if i staple no children to their heads when they're together what then #truly this is some good writing #like: i find izzy fascinating because he was written by the same team who wrote everybody else #he sucks in ways that i want to think about because they sometimes allow me to examine myself #and then sometimes let me laugh at his dumb ass or talk about serious thematic shit #he bears a lot of weight in the narrative because that's in part what a good antagonist should do #anyway yeah the sort of classic tragedy of these two is super interesting since like...clearly the show knows what's up #i maintain izzy is gonna figure his shit out and become a productive member of this pirate society tho #because okay like: in real life i know the best i can often hope for is somebody knocking a specific behavior off #and often they won't ever do that #but if they did the world would be better and they would be better and i would have another comrade #i will always settle for one less enemy if that is my only choice #but i'd rather make a new ally i can trust #and my fantasy is often that the izzys of the world in all their forms don't just knock it off #it's that they start fighting alongside me or become someone i don't mind being around because i CAN trust them now #(hey: i did say it was a fantasy)#so i kind of ask myself: what makes life better in this fictional world #an izzy who can't hurt people because he is no longer around or an izzy who has started to figure his shit out #anyway yes: this shit is sad and well-crafted

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linssikeittomies · 1 year

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Pivot Points - Chapter 1: Hard Left

Masterpost / AO3

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

CW: attempted suicide

You wouldn't believe how much editing I did on this chapter. About 5(five!!!) times I was sure it was done, and just kept finding small things to add and/or change orz I would recomment reading this on AO3, I have more thorough notes and tags there.

The final straw isn’t Spriggs getting uppity with him. That’s such a common occurrence these days it barely fazes Izzy anymore. There’s a real chance he’d be more shocked if Spriggs actually did listen to him instead of shucking off his duties.

“You’re not the first mate on this ship, Dizzy Izzy.”

It still wouldn’t look good to let anyone talk back at him, so every time this sort of thing happens, Izzy is forced to act. Words stopped getting through to Spriggs months ago, but fortunately bodily harm is his weak point - quickest way to get him to do fucking anything is to threaten him with something sharp.

The final straw isn’t Edward grabbing his wrist to stop him from pulling out his sword, either. Izzy would’ve appreciated him not doing that, but all in all, it isn’t that surprising these days. He’d gone real soft after fucking Bonnet came back. Despite having known him for thirty years, despite seeing him grow from average sailor and scrappy brawler to a fucking legend, or even a force of nature, despite seeing his lowest points where he wouldn’t get out of bed for a week straight, despite all that the Edward in front of him these days is a practical fucking stranger. Because he had fallen for some lily-livered fucking idiot who got bored of having a good life and decided to make a fucking mockery out of hard choices and necessity and nab anything he felt like along the way.

“Sorry, Izzy. Stede’s ship, Stede’s rules- no threatening the crew.” Fucking Bonnet. It’s like that fucking moron wants to get shipwrecked with all this fucking shoddy rigwork and crowded decks. Fine by Izzy if he feels like dying, but he doesn’t need to take his useless fucking crew with him- actually, no, he can take his whole fucking useless crew with him, just leave Edward and Izzy out of it.

“These lazy fucks won’t do their fucking jobs when I tell them to, and then you stop me from doing them myself! So what the fuck am I supposed to do, then?”

And Edward just groans and waves his hand like that was supposed to fix anything. As if just ignoring a problem would make it solve itself - or more likely, Izzy would find the solution in his place because that's how it’s been ever since Blackbeard started gaining a reputation, once Edward started feeling like not doing actual work. Which had been vast majority of the time for the last few years.

“Yeah, ‘cause you’re, like... above that and shit, Iz. You’re not some deckhand.”

It’s been a fair while since Izzy really exploded at Edward. Trust him, they’ve had their fair share of arguments, as all couples do, and his respect for Edward usually overrides his need for personal pride, and besides, more often than not Edward proved to have been in the right at the end, so Izzy’s learned to defer to him anyway. But he’s no doormat - he lets Edward have it when it’s deserved. And in this case it’s been deserved for months.

“Well if I’m not the first mate, and I’m also not a deckhand, or the helmsman, or any other rank, then what the fuck am I supposed to be doing all day when there’s a ship full of -”

“I dunno, man, just - “Edward sighs heavily, like he can’t be bothered. Because why would he be bothered, it‘s only his whole fucking ship and first mate and, oh yeah, his fucking matelot that are going to ruins at this rate! “Just relax, maybe? Have a vacation? Catch up on your reading? You’ve worked hard enough, you deserve some down time.”

Nearly anything else Izzy could have endured. He has endured many things - Edward sending him off after a rigged duel hadn’t been the final straw, Edward cutting off his toe hadn’t been the final straw, Stede fucking Bonnet traipsing back like the world owed him a favour hadn’t been the final straw, being demoted hadn’t been the final straw. They hadn’t been good times, but Izzy got through them because at least Edward had still cared, had still wanted him around, had still looked his way sometimes.

The final straw is Edward wanting him out of sight, so he can forget Izzy ever existed.

“Edward -” he starts, but stops himself. Also stops the hand reaching out to Edward. Draws a deep breath, reigns in the words he wants to say, shuts off the parts that want to kick and scream. Pulls himself back together.

Edward had chosen Izzy because he is put-together, effective, and good at following directions. “Captain. You could’ve told me this sooner. I would’ve gotten out of your hair.” It’s hard, keeping out the tears and rage out of his voice, and he isn’t sure if a perceptible amount seeped out. He can only hope Spriggs - who is still standing right there like a fucking twat that can’t tell a private affair from a dinner show - can’t read him well enough to know what the quiver means.

“Try to relax for once in your life, it’s not the end of the world. Maybe start with planning an itinerary for your leave, you like those”, Edward says airily, because to him bookkeeping doesn’t matter. He’s good at nearly all piracy-related things, and he’s a bloody brilliant sailor, but keeping logs and inventories has never interested him. It isn’t that Izzy particularly likes keeping them, either, it had just fallen to him because he had been the only other literate person on the Queen Anne and a habit is hard to break. Because Edward has never cared for having duties. Because he has never felt like making an effort where it really matters. With anyone that should matter.

“Captain.”

Izzy doesn’t know why he said it. He doesn’t know what he would continue it with. Edward doesn’t grace him with a response, because what is he supposed to say to such a non-statement? He just waves his hand non-committally and leaves. Izzy stares after him helplessly.

“Wow, a vacation. What a terrible fate”, Spriggs drawls sarcastically, and Izzy will fucking stab him to death right then and there, he swears he will. His life is already over, Edward can’t threaten him with anything anymore.

But he won’t, because he is good at following orders. No threatening the crew, Captain had said, and so Izzy will obey. Even if it is Spriggs, who was insufferable and has a weird look on his stupid fucking face and can’t tell when he isn’t wanted.

Izzy snatches the broom Spriggs hadn’t been using in the first place and starts swabbing the deck in his stead.

“Um, Blackbeard literally seconds ago told you to relax, don’t you think -”

“Let me get my affairs in order!” Izzy snaps at him. Spriggs raises his hands in surrender and doesn’t complain any further.

Izzy spends the rest of the day trying to get the ship in order. He inspects the rigging, provides Feeney with a note of which sails need mending, services the cannons, makes inventory of the weaponry and gunpowder, even scrubs off some barnacles from the hull. The crew give him looks, especially Spriggs, but say nothing. Even Edward says nothing, when he catches Izzy re-organizing the armory. So much for Izzy being like, above that and shit. He isn’t above anything. Isn’t below anything, either. He’s just falling apart inch by inch. He’s cracking at the seams. He’s boiling and he’s melting. He’s doing all the things he isn’t supposed to. He’s pointless. Reverted. Head empty. Gone back to his origins. Or not. He can’t tell, he isn’t coherent. Isn’t a man, at least. For the first time in a year.

The only thing he is anymore is resolute.

When the sun starts going down, and Izzy feels like he’s done as much as he’s able with the time he’s been allowed, he goes to his cabin. It’s only his because no one else wanted it - it’s a miserable trap without a porthole, so the only light comes from the candle Izzy has set on he small table he snagged from the - for heaven’s sake, the fucking rec center, honestly what was fucking wrong with Bonnet - and it gets stuffy in barely an hour when the door is closed. It’s as close to a brig as this bloody joke of a pirate ship has. Izzy imagines it was originally meant to be a storeroom, then was going to be converted into a cabin, but the work had been left unfinished for whatever reason - there is a bunk, and the beginnings of a wall sconce, but nothing else. Izzy could’ve used a bit more comfort, but he’d been happy enough as it provided some privacy. He was never much of a social person, and he also firmly believes in separation of command. Hard to command someone’s respect when you’re palling around with them, which is why Izzy stopped sleeping on the deck with the rest of the crew right as he gained a high enough rank.

Not that Izzy has been commanding much respect lately, anyway. Fucking Bonnet’s crew of fucking disrespectful imbeciles have turned him into a fucking joke that can get nothing done, since he isn’t allowed to beat them. Spriggs is the fucking worst of the lot, looking down his nose at Izzy, studying the best ways to push his buttons, knowing if anything happened then Izzy would get the blame.

Fine. So Spriggs has won. What does it matter anymore. All that’s left for Izzy to do is to put his meager property in order. He wants to change into a spare outfit, but that would raise suspicions, so he has to keep the black leather on. It’s been a long time since it last felt this uncomfortable. At least the ring feels as natural as it ever has, that one he will keep on gladly. He needs the dagger, but not the sword - on some level he wants to take it with him, because it’s his sword, it’s been with him for a long time and sits in his hand like a friend, but it’s a fine blade and deserves to find a new master. A good one. He hopes Edward will sell it, because no one from this shitty crew was worthy of this sword - apart from Jimenez, skills-wise at least, but personality-wise they’re a vindictive asshole - and Edward himself is more partial to knives. It would sell for good money, so Edward could buy another one of those ridiculous banyans he suddenly likes.

The money Izzy isn’t petty enough to take with him, but the letters he will. He hasn’t kept many of them, only the most important ones - a few from Suzanna, some from Sam, one from Anne. There are none from Edward, because he has never needed to write to Izzy - they have been together for thirty years. Side by side for twenty-five. Estranged for a few months. Apart for eight hours.

He wishes he could take something to weigh him down, but there’s nothing that’s both heavy enough and easily carried, and the last thing he needs is anyone waking up to him dragging his trunk around on the deck. The current should be enough to carry him away from the ship even if he floats, but he would prefer to be sure. He really doesn’t want anyone to see him. Couldn’t take a little teasing, they’d say, or about fucking time. If he just disappears, then they would think he’d finally had enough of this fucking farce and signed on somewhere else. He briefly wonders if Spriggs will keep up the mocking pretense of affection even after Izzy is gone, or if it’s only fun when Izzy’s there to witness it. Jesus fucking Christ, Izzy should’ve just let him die back then, and he would’ve if he’d known Spriggs would become this fucking annoying. Even sparing Edward the moral panic wasn’t worth all the needling. Bare your soul one fucking time and get shit for it for the rest of your life!

He chose the last hour of the morning watch, so the ship would be unguarded for the shortest possible time. Izzy would get to do his deed in secret, but the dawn would wake the rest of the crew soon. It’s a stroke of luck Fang has this watch - Ivan would have done almost as well, but he took longer to fall asleep, leaving Izzy less time. They both know Izzy sometimes has trouble sleeping, and would take over a watch to have something to do. Everyone on the Queen Anne knew Izzy doesn’t do well with idleness - everyone except Edward, evidently.

Or maybe he does. This could be his way of shirking off his duty and going oh well, he didn’t want to stay so there’s nothing I could do. Izzy wouldn’t put it past him. He’s always fucking loathed doing anything he doesn’t like, no matter how detrimental. Case in point, fucking Bonnet.

And now Izzy. Edward knows he should cut anchor, but he doesn’t want to. The reason Izzy can only speculate about, maybe it’s sentimental, maybe it’s practical, though Izzy can’t think of a reason for that - he’s basically doing nothing these days. Maybe it’s just for the amusement of the crew. But one thing is for sure - by this point, it isn’t affection anymore. It burns that Izzy’s been abandoned like this, but he supposes Edward could’ve been crueler about it, and perhaps Izzy himself could’ve been nicer about everything else. It was just - for years, he thought Edward had chosen him, the way Izzy had chosen him in return. To have and to hold, even if the words hadn’t been said. And Izzy has held - kept holding as his matelot slept with other people, kept even when Edward’s interest waned, is still holding when everything is finally over. Because he had chosen the duty to love and to hold Edward until death do them part. But Edward hadn’t taken his part seriously, he’d started dodging his duty almost right away, and then dropped it altogether barely a few years in. It hurts, when you think someone loves you and then it turns out you were just another fling. Anyone would get bitter.

A little past four o’clock, Izzy acts. Puts on his boots and waistcoat like nothing’s wrong, combs his hair, puts on a brave face. Stuffs the letters inside his shirt. Straightens everything out. Goes up on deck.

Fang is up in the crow’s nest.

“I’ll take over”, Izzy tells him in a tired voice, and little of it is acting. He is exhausted in all the ways a person can be - physically, mentally, spiritually. Fang makes space on the railing, and Izzy goes to lean heavily on it.

“Can’t sleep again, boss?”

“Yeah. Still a few hours before sunrise, you can get a nap in.”

Fang gives him an odd look, almost worried, but that can’t be right since it’s directed at Izzy. One: because there has never been a need to worry about Izzy, and two: Fang hates him, anyway.

“Or I could just keep you company. That’s nice, sometimes.”

It’s been several years since anyone offered to keep Izzy company. At the start of his pirating career, thirty-some years ago, he’d had some friends, and of course Sam. He’d been a different person, then, naturally. As he aged, he became happy with only having one’s person’s affection and attention. Of course, he’s since lost that, too, leaving only those who merely tolerate him and who he tolerates in turn. Mostly it doesn’t bother him - he’s made his bed, and he hasn’t felt like completely overhauling his personality. And now there is no longer a need.

Still... it does feel nice that Fang has noticed something’s off, and cares enough to try a little bit to fix it. Even if his method is the exact opposite of what Izzy wants.

“Better not. I’m not in a good mood.”

“That’s even more reason, in my experience”, Fang argues nervously, starting to lean slightly away from Izzy. Expecting a hit, maybe.

“Go to sleep. I will not repeat myself.”

Fang still hesitates, and his hand goes up to cover his beard. Izzy rarely feels shame for his actions, but this is one of those rare times - strange, since he’s never particularly liked Fang to begin with, and likes him even less after participating in the mutiny against Izzy’s extremely short captaincy. Granted, he’d basically been trying to incite a mutiny so he really shouldn’t be blaming Fang and Ivan. But there isn’t much you can do about feelings.

Unfortunately.

“Sorry for pulling your beard all those times.”

Fang forces an awkward smile, and finally climbs down. He’ll likely bunk down next to Spriggs and Pete. He’s been smitten ever since getting his cock sketched. Izzy never knew he was that easy, but then again, Spriggs is a special kind of fruit. Novelty can be surprisingly enticing.

Izzy enjoys the darkness and quiet for a while. He isn’t as good at reading the stars as Edward is, because no one is as good at it as Edward. He had taught Izzy a little, but he’s a bad teacher - because he’s so good at everything, he’s terrible at explaining anything. He just gets it, he doesn’t need to think about it. And he’s a fucking show-off, too, loves withholding information so he’ll look like a wizard when an unexpected fog rolls in or something. Fucking sausage clouds. Izzy can’t blame Bonnet for falling for Edward, because who wouldn’t have? Fucking magnificent twat.

After a while, everything on deck is quiet. Everyone in deep sleep. Even the moon is hidden behind the clouds, like it doesn’t want to spy on anything that happens. Just in time before sunrise, even. For once Izzy’s plans are going perfectly. He climbs down quickly, then walks quietly to the empty poopdeck - they’re anchored, so there was no need for a helmsman, thus no one to see him moving about. There’s a bit of wind, making the ship creak quietly, masking small noises, so maybe he’s being overly cautious, but Izzy hasn’t grown this old by being careless. He can only hope the splash won’t be heard over the waves. It is a fairly high drop, after all, and Izzy won’t have much control of how he falls in.

He stares down at the black water.

It... it should be warm. It’s the middle of winter, but it’s not like the Caribbean actually gets cold at any point in the year, so it would make sense for the water to be warm. At least it shouldn’t be cold. He won’t be feeling it for long in either case, but Izzy would still prefer his final moments to be warm. The biggest reason he left England had been to stop feeling so fucking uncomfortable in his own skin, but the shitty fucking weather that was always either wet or cold, or often enough both at the same time, had been a close second.

He draws in a breath, and lifts himself up on the railing. He takes a moment to take in the night air one final time, and lets himself enjoy. He was made for the sea, and all in all, he hasn’t had a bad life. He got most of the things he had asked for, and for a short moment he even had Edward’s love. Even more than that, he got all those while riding the waves in his own wooden kingdom, at home.

“Izzy.”

He nearly drops in prematurely as Edward’s voice suddenly pipes up behind him.

“What the fuck are you doing up? It’s still over an hour until sunrise!” Izzy scream-whispers, still wary of the crew. He doesn’t hear them stirring, and since he didn’t heard Edward coming he doubts they did, either, but you can’t blame him for being on edge. The whole point of doing this at night, alone, in the poopdeck, was so no one would see him! And now Edward has. Why not stick the knife in his neck right then and there if he’s been caught, anyway. Goddamnit.

Fuck, he really could’ve done without the attention, not like he’s getting it any time he asks so why does fate have to fuck him over like this?

“Knee’s acting up, needed to move it a bit. Thought you could use the company.”

Right, so Fang went to get him. Otherwise no one would know Izzy was on watch in his stead. Fucking tattletale. Should’ve pulled his beard after all.

“Don’t need it. Go back to bed.” Back to Bonnet.

“You giving orders to your captain?” Edward warns, and usually that voice would send a thrill down Izzy’s spine. But finally his body has gotten the memo, and knows it won’t lead to anything. He just sighs and turns back to the sea, so he won’t have to see Edward’s mussed up hair, trimmed beard, green banyan. His resigned eyes.

If Hell turns out to be real, Izzy’s greatest regret would be never getting to see Edward’s doe eyes again.

“You really going?”

Izzy’s hands grip the railing tight, and he feels his face twist in defensive anger.

“Fucking Bonnet won’t let me be first mate, you won’t let me be crew, I’m just - doing fuck-all while the rest of you play house. I can’t stay here.” And I can’t start over again with someone else, he doesn’t say out loud, because that would sound pointlessly needy when Edward can’t understand that some people don’t just move on.

And Edward just sighs. He can barely muster together enough of a fuck to make a fucking noise when his first mate and matelot of twenty five fucking years is about to fucking die. Izzy would’ve been less offended if he’d stayed silent and just fucked off.

A tense moment passes, where Izzy refuses to look at Edward, and Edward doesn’t bother doing anything. Until there’s another fucking sigh, and Izzy almost throttles him.

“If that’s what you want, then I won’t stop you.” Because why would he, when he so clearly wants this. He can’t wait for Izzy to fuck off out of his life. “Look, Iz, I know you’ve been unhappy, and I’m sorry for making -”

“Don’t fucking start with that pansy-ass bullshit -”

“No, I will.” And it’s such a tragedy that this is the time when the old Blackbeard comes closest to making a comeback. Edward’s eyes have that steel in them again, his body moves with the dangerous languor of a gun ready to fire, and his voice accepts no arguments. At that moment, he returns to being Izzy’s Captain, and angry as he is, he can’t help but be compelled to obey. This is what had drawn him to Edward in the first place, his confident authority, his violent magnetism. “Stede’s taught me that talking is good. Think it would’ve done us some good, even.” But then his authority fades again, and he returns to being Stede fucking Bonnet’s boytoy. Izzy can’t understand that, for the life of him he cannot fathom what compels Edward to Bonnet the way Edward compels Izzy. “Just... too late to start now, I guess. But I’m sorry I’ve made you not want to stay.”

It is too little too late, after the last few years, he’s right about that, but Izzy’s cold bitch of a heart has never known how to not melt at Edward. So he forgives Edward, of course he does. Suddenly he’s glad Edward is there, oddly comforted by his presence. Izzy’s life had really only begun when he met Edward, and now it will end, with Edward still next to him. A life encapsulated in Edward. His Captain.

He smiles, just a little bit, without meaning to. Perhaps he doesn’t matter much to Edward anymore, but nothing could erase those early years when they’d been the centers of each other’s worlds.

Izzy slips the ring off his cravat. He stopped believing in any kind of afterlife early on in his life, so he needs no reminders of Edward. And maybe Edward, who will keep living, doesn’t want reminders - but he could choose to think of it as Izzy giving him permission to be with Bonnet.

And judging by the brightened look in his eyes, he does choose to think of it like that.

“Not asking you to think of me or anything. Throw it out of you want to.” But secretly he hopes Edward will keep it, and think of him.

“I’ll keep it safe.” And Edward says nothing more, just slips the ring into a pocket, then stares out to the sea, in silence.

So that’s how thirty years go down the drain - quietly. Izzy supposes he should feel angry that his dedication means so little, that Edward hasn’t tried to make him reconsider even once, but in a rare event, he just feels calm. He hadn’t wanted to turn this into a number, and Edward hadn’t. He gave Edward a memento, and Edward promised to keep it. He had made a decision, and Edward hadn’t countered it. Izzy has gotten all he asked out of this.

He makes a light chuckle as he draws the dagger from its holster. “Would be nice if you did the honors. Starting and ending this whole thing.” But Edward can’t, for reasons Izzy has never understood. Even so, Izzy can honor them one last time.

He fiddles with the dagger in his hand. Just one quick slice, should be easy. Doesn’t even need to be deep, the sea would take care of the rest. Just one quick slice.

His hands are not shaking as he lifts the dagger to his neck, they are not shaking. Just one quick slice, justonequickslice.

“Izzy?”

Just one quick slice.

“Izzy -! MAN OVERBOARD, MAN OVERB-”

#pivot points #fan fiction #our flag means fanfic #ofmd #steddyhands #izzy hands #blackbeard #linssifanfiction #wiptale #suicide cw

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witchfall · 7 months

Text

a long way out to reach the sea [1]

History does not happen in the pretty lines that writers eventually wrangle into finer narratives; one very rarely can stand in a moment and know exactly how it will be remembered.

So he writes it for her in his head, so that someone gets it right.

[or: how a prodigy from Sharlayan and a nobody girl abandoned in the desert find common ground — and something more.]

1. under their eyes

He gasps out a breath. Maybe a warning to Izzie. Assurance to Noel and Tataru, who scream for the Heavens’ Ward to stop. He wants to think it’s that. He knows, ultimately, it is merely a shaking breath of fear that says nothing at all.

read the chapter on ao3

———

Darkness is heavy as a weight in the concessory, the room lit only by pallid yellow globs of light from small oil lanterns. Cold faces sculpted in harsh shadow sneer down at him and Tataru from on high, assuredly as the Church intended, to frighten any lowborn into sniveling and cow any highborn into begging.

Well, Alphinaud is certainly going to do neither.

He breathes in the sticky, still-cold air of this room full of doomsayers and speaks how he was taught. With full enunciation, supported by the diaphragm, loud.

“I, Alphinaud Leveilleur, am innocent of this charge and claim my right to a trial by combat.”

He keeps his fists low to his hips. Izzie mentioned that once. Not that he will be fighting with his fists, not unless this goes terribly sideways in a way he can’t consider. It helps keep the shaking at bay.

He has no choice but to have faith. Of all the ridiculous ironies.

The lalafell girl next to him speaks up in a tremulous voice, but exactly as Haurchefaunt told her to. “I, Tataru Taru, am innocent of this charge...but I am no fighter…so I claim the right to a champion to fight in my stead!”

That’s when the doors slam open.

A furious stripe of red hair half-tumbles into the room, skewing all light in her direction. Like the moon for which the world has named her, Izzie reflects the weak light back upon the faces in the dark, casting everything in a softer glow — even as her mouth twists into a snarl so fearsome it makes Alphinaud’s heart sink down into his gut.

Noel runs in not long after, emerald eyes haunted. Her aether billows out in a fog of possessive fury.

Even Noel seems unwilling to get in the way of whatever has possessed Izzie with such fervor. So for once, the sun hangs back.

The adjudicator attempts to regain control of the warbling voices in the chamber. “Who will—”

“I will!” Izzie declares. The way her mouth curls, Alphinaud can almost taste the cuss she wants to hurl at this man. “Or did my entrance not do it for you?”

She’s a sniper. Would they even allow a bow to be used here? The quarters are far too close.

“Very well,” the adjudicator says, eyebrow twitching.

Alphinaud opens his mouth to protest. And then Izzie pulls knives out of her boots.

Something in him twists sharply to the left. The light glints off the silver of her steel; firelight sings across her teeth. She senses underestimation like a scent on the wind and it makes her reckless and wild.

“And just as I was beginning to doubt in the efficacy of the Ishgardian justice system,” he mutters as she approaches, unable to keep his mouth shut as her copper brightness bears down upon him.

“Are you stupid?” she hisses. He jumps when her arm brushes his shoulder as she slides to his side. She’s taller than him, but not by enough to loom. They are both small in their own ways. “What are you going to fight with, your fucking book?”

“I have very little choice in the matter should I want to prove my innocence, thank you.”

Despite the exchange, familiar as parchment, his eyes track the knights of the Heavens’ Ward. He wants to block their levin-lit gazes. They watch Izzie with nigh lascivious scorn.

They want to tear her apart and see what can be done with the pieces. Alphinaud is just collateral, as he so often is anymore.

His hand clenches. When is survival enough? When can the world stop mocking them for it?

“Just stay behind me,” Izzie says, the hissing suddenly gone from her voice.

He only then realizes her words are streaked through with cracks of panic. She breathes heavily, like she’d run the whole way through the city to get here. He opens his mouth to retort, but nothing comes out.

Because then the inquisitors summon the battlefield up from the bowels of this ancient temple. Injustice snarls through Alphinaud at the too-freshly clean lacquer of its marble floor, at the frighteningly sharp metal bars that line its edges, at how this city could engineer so much and how it dedicates its all to something as barbaric as this.

What would Grandfather think?

His thoughts whirl with such tunneled intensity that the adjudicator’s voice becomes little more than a hallowed droning in the back of his head as he and Izzie descend to the battlefield. The inquisitor lifts his hand in some holy invocation that has Izzie’s shoulders tensing.

“Let’s end this farce,” Alphinaud whispers, unhooking his tome from his belt with more bravado than he deserved.

Izzie’s gaze slides toward him with such intensity it burns his peripheral vision. He glances back.

“No heroics, Leveilleur.” A warning, low and rumbling. “I mean it.”

He has no time to reply — no time to dissect the prickling heat that sweeps through his gut from hearing his name out of her mouth — before she leaps, knives aloft, toward knights in shining armor.

...

History does not happen in the pretty lines that writers eventually wrangle into finer narratives; one very rarely can stand in a moment and know exactly how it will be remembered.

So he writes it for her in his head, so that someone gets it right.

When she leaps, the whole world stops to look. She becomes a cream and copper ribbon of motion, thrown forward by two points of steel. The Heavens’ Ward stand slack jawed in the span of time they could have reacted, suffering all at once the crashing of their hubris.

No one in Ishgard believed a wit about the stories of the Warriors of Light, heralding from greater Eorzea.

Two Viera women had saved the land entire, to hear it told — one as beautiful and glorious as the sun, dancing like the chiaroscuro of shadows beneath magnificent boughs as she cast spells made of miracles. The other is as winking and joyous as the full moon, coquettishly hiding behind gales of bright laughter and a voice that would woo Menphina herself.

How could anyone believe it, looking upon them now?

The Dancing Sun, Noel Kisne, stands watching like a boat’s mast shorn in half, broken and splintered, body motionless. She is an eclipse, cursing them all.

And the Laughing Moon, Izzie Nenelori, is no guileless maiden made of frivolity. Her teeth gnash like a cornered animal, the ferocity of her attack unearthing some deeper darkness for the Ishgardians to examine in horror.

Her strength is preternatural and strange. Her battlecries are more akin to a harpie’s screaming than mellifluous sparrow calls. It is all Alphinaud can do to summon Moonstone to cast a shield over her skin as the knights’ weapons come perilously close to slicing her open.

They don’t.

Her foot whirls around to smash into Ser Grinnaux’s jaw, sending him stumbling to the floor. In the same motion, her knife sings across Ser Paulecrain’s cheek, sending a spit of blood flying. Any advantage they may have had with reach weapons evaporates beneath her fearless charge. Death doesn’t threaten her. The notion of it seems to excite her — like she relishes laughing in death’s face.

She dives beneath the pole of Paulecrain’s halberd and skitters aside when Grinnaux’s axe slams into the marble. She grins, all teeth.

Sweat gathers on Alphinaud’s forehead, watching her. For so long, Izzie and Noel had capitulated to his many demands on their time; he’d never stood close enough to actually watch their battles unfold. Such was not his duty.

Something bizarre unfurls inside his chest where his heart should be, the very organ blooming like an orchid as Izzie pummels the hilt of her knife straight into Paulecrain’s nose. Something itchy and petrifying and warm crawls through Alphinaud’s skin, like he is a monster cracking out of an egg, roaring to consume.

Her hair follows her in a silky curtain of fire even now, crowned by two tall, velvety ears. Her freckles stand out from her pale skin like tiny, dark stars. She shouts in fury, lips red and wide open, skin mottled with orange flushing.

She’s beautiful. She could kill him. The two thoughts are one thought, entwined like vines, and his mouth falls open, helpless.

“Alphinaud, pay attention!” Noel snaps from the stands.

He jumps, hearing her voice — cracked through with disuse.

But he is! He is paying attention, thank you very much! Izzie is doing a fine job entertaining their enmity — but then…

The battle shifts.

They seem to notice Alphinaud is…standing there. Book open, carbuncle hissing furiously. Grinnaux turns on a dime, sollerets screeching, to charge him with his axe held aloft. Alphinaud grits his jaw and squares his feet, hand extended as he performs the arcane geometries to ruin him—

Izzie’s leg swings out in the same moment, tripping the knight to the floor. He clatters to the ground in a kerrang of armor, and in the next moment, she leaps on him, knife’s point going for one of the weaknesses in the far too ceremonial plate.

“Don’t run!” she snarls. “That’s no fun!”

Ser Grinnaux screams in pain.

But Izzie is distracted, giving Paulecrain — face caked with dark blood from his nose — ample time to rise up, halberd intent upon her neck.

No, some part of Alphinaud whispers. You don’t get to do this to her. Not for me. Not again.

Alphinaud half-shouts as a crackling, deep-dark Ruin spell flies toward Paulcrain’s chest from his grimoire. The knight stumbles backward, breathless, only to be further accosted by Moonstone’s chittering fury, leaping to his chest, scratching at his jaw.

Izzie’s fist flies across Grinnaux’s face. His head smacks the stone ground with a sickening thunk, but it only seems to make him angrier.

To be bested so easily by a 19-year-old girl?

Inhuman strength possesses him and he throws her from his body. Her back hits the far wall in a thick crunch. Noel screams. Haurchefaunt calls out the inhumanity of it. Alphinaud’s stomach falls to his feet.

Grinnaux pulls out her knife from his chest with a far too thick squelching sound, blood dripping from the steel before he tosses it to the ground. Then his haunting, bright eyes fixate on Alphinaud.

“Halone smite you!” he bellows.

What happens next is a blur.

Aetheric chains suddenly squeeze Alphinaud about the ribs, crushing him so fully that he forgets how to breathe. His grimoire falls to the ground in his shock; he’s never been accosted like this, never been attacked with the full intent to kill before, not in a way that actually landed, not in a way that will leave bruises if he even survives.

Grinnaux stalks toward him, mouth curving in a bloody crescent.

And then a horrifying, guttural scream shakes the very foundations of the church.

In the next moment, a flash of copper is in front of Alphinaud, and the chains break as easily as if Izzie had cut her steel through a fraying rope. Alphinaud collapses to the floor, head spinning, body aching so furiously his eyes prick with tears. Izzie throws that same knife right at Grinnaux’s face—

—only for it to cut a sharp line across the side of his neck. He shouts, gauntleted hands going automatically to the blood flowing from the crack in his skin. Paulecrain bellows in fury, charging her, and Alphinaud cries out, voice choked, scrambling for his tome somewhere upon the floor, because she is utterly weaponless—

But with inhuman strength, she grabs the long shaft of the halberd and uses his own momentum to swing him aside into the same wall that Grinnaux had just thrown her into, like he is a bug at the end of a swatter.

Perhaps Halone is here after all. Perhaps the Heavens’ Ward knows that.

Izzie stalks forward, grabbing her bloodied knife off the ground. She marches soullessly toward Paulecrain, who throws his hands up.

Pleading.

“No!” Paulecrain cries, scrambling back. “We yield! We yield!”

“And so it is decided!” The high adjudicator declares, voice hurried and breathless to stop Izzie before she kills both of the knights. “The accused are deemed innocent beneath the eyes of the Fury! May She keep you in Her hallowed halls!”

The rest of the adjudicator’s cronies wave and shout for healers while Izzie stands there, breathing hard, eyes blown open, hands and knuckles dripping with blood.

“We won!” Tataru shouts, disbelieving.

Alphinaud slowly rises on his shaking legs, wiping tears from his eyes before Izzie can see. It doesn’t feel like a win, watching Izzie return to herself through the mist of his pain. It doesn’t feel like anything good at all.

He is drawn to her side like the very chain she’d broken in her fury. He reaches out a trembling hand to touch her shoulder. Decides not to at the last second.

Her head twists around to stare at him, half-lifeless, half-scalding. His hand lingers in the air between them like a hummingbird.

Her gaze rakes through his face, his body, and then her whole body turns toward him and her palms press into his shoulders.

He is breathless. He has no words, which never happens to him. The spots where her palms touch him tingle as if she held levin crystals to his body.

“Are you okay?” Her words are choked through with sensation. Scratchy from screaming, shaking from adrenaline, sharp with unbalanced determination he can’t quite pin down.

“Yes,” he says, somehow. “Yes.” He remembers himself, bit by bit. “My thanks. Are you?”

She blinks, as if shocked by the question, and then nods slowly. “Yeah. I think so.”

They stare at each other.

For so long, most of their interactions have been defined by acidity. The moment they’d met, she’d called him a prissy nonce who should go home to his mother. And maybe she had been right, he thinks, miserable. Maybe he should have listened to her. Look at this mess they’re in, all because of him.

The Scions are gone because of him.

But he had gotten comfortable in their spiky back and forth. She kept coming back even after she told him off any number of times. She'd even return without Noel sometimes for her next assignment, as if perhaps she could tolerate him if it meant helping other people. He’d decided, long ago, she simply believed in the cause.

Now, he wonders if she had gotten comfortable, too.

This seems too much to hope for, that she cared about him beyond being the boy who pretended to be her commander. This seems like something a different, less cocksure fool would deserve.

“Be more careful, you idiot,” she snaps, furious. “Noel would never forgive herself if anything happened to you. Do you want to make her even more sad?”

He opens his mouth to retort — because he can read between the lines far better than she can and he knows, he knows in a flash of intuition that burns, that she isn’t talking about Noel.

Why doesn’t she just say that? What about it makes it so she can’t? He saw everything. He saw the ferocity of her defense. It was personal.

Is it always like that for her? Does it scare her?

But then they are swept aside in the current of their friends and allies pulling them out from the tribunal to the stained-glass shadows in the vestibule and he decides, wisely, to drop it.

Thinking about it makes his hands shake — and he can’t afford any more weakness.

#alphinaud leveilleur #wolphinaud #ffxiv #ffxiv fic #izzie nenelori #i want to keep this up as a writing exercise of a sort. but anyway. started this. lost my marbles. bon appetit

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adzeisval · 7 months

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It's okay just to say I'm not okay

Izzy has a rough morning. Also on AO3.

Izzy woke up later than he’d intended to and groaned. It had been a rough night. The sea had been tossing the ship about and the wind was howling and screaming. Izzy looked across his room to see his prosthetic had rolled all the way over to the other side of the room. He sighed.

Izzy eased himself down onto the floor and crawled on his hands and one knee over to the prosthetic. He managed to get it on and get himself off the floor and standing. He was a little unsteady at first. It still happened every once in a while. It probably always would.

He went about his morning duties and got the crew up and going and looked around for any damage that might have been caused by the storm. Izzy tried to ignore the rubbing of the prosthetic against his skin, he must have put it on a little off.

Izzy gave orders to the crew, he pointed out things that needed to be fixed. He fixed a few things that he could reach but he wasn’t able to get up into the rigging as easily as he could before and it was safer to stay on the deck.

“Spriggs, there’s a loose rope to your left!”

“Fuck Izzy, why don’t you come up here and help.”

“Little difficult to do that Spriggs,” Izzy called back. Izzy supposed he could try to climb up, he could in a pinch but…chances were that he would fall. Sometimes it didn’t bother him what he couldn’t do or couldn’t do as easily anymore but other times…it got to him. He knew that he was lucky to have lived through the infection and amputation. He was lucky to have a place where he belonged and where they cared enough about him to help him.

Izzy saw Edward and Stede making their way around the ship, Izzy needed to tell them a few things and started down the stairs. One of the straps holding his prosthetic snapped and the leg came off. Izzy tried to hop down the stairs and managed one but then went sprawling down the rest, landing hard on the deck.

Fuck.

“Izzy?”

“Is he alright?”

Ed and Stede were at his side helping him sit up.

“Are you alright Iz?” Ed asked. Izzy wanted to say that he was alright, he should be alright, it was just a stupid tumble. But the stupid leg strap had snapped, and his ribs hurt, and he was bleeding from a cut on his arm and…and…

Izzy started to cry.

“Oh shit,” Ed said, “Stede, can you get Roach and the leg and meet me in the cabin?”

“Yes,” Stede said, “Hold on Izzy.”

“I’m going to pick you up and get you to the cabin alright?” Ed said and Izzy managed to nod. Ed picked him up, carrying him bridal style all the way to the cabin.

“Sorry,” Izzy mumbled when they got to the cabin.

“It’s alright Izzy. Having a bad morning mate?”

He nodded. It was so difficult sometimes to talk to Edward about things involving the leg. He didn’t like to make Edward feel bad about it.

“I’m sorry Izzy, wanna bitch about it mate?”

Izzy snorted, “Stupid leg rolled across the room in the storm, put the straps on a bit off and it was chafing and hurting, Spriggs didn’t mean to but he made me feel a bit useless because I can’t go up into the rigging then the fucking strap broke and I fell and…and I just get sick of it sometimes. Not being able to just get up and walk!”

“I’m sorry Iz, so sorry for my part in this. But I’m so glad you’re here mate, I’m so thankful I still get to talk to you every day, see you every day. Everyone here wants you to be here because we love you. You are an important part of our family just as you are.”

Izzy sniffled, “Thanks Ed.”

“Roach is here, ready to see if that cut needs stitching?”

Izzy nodded.

“I’ll see what we can do about getting that strap fixed and maybe get some more padding so it doesn’t chafe.”

“Thank you.”

Roach came in and checked the cut which didn’t need stitches and gave Izzy some salve for the chafing. His ribs were bruised a bit but no breaks.

“Any other concerns Izzy?”

“No. Thank you Roach.”

Stede was the next to come in, with a tea tray filled with goodies, “Got you something to cheer you up a bit.”

“I’m not going to break you know.”

“I know. I just want to cheer you up. I don’t know what Edward said but you know how much we all care about you I hope?”

“I do. I’ll be alright, just needed to vent. I’m not that easy to get rid of.”

“And we don’t want to do that anyway.”

“I know,” Izzy said.

“When you first got here, when we realized how sick you were I really was afraid it was too late. Even with the animosity between us at that point I was really afraid you’d die. But you’re much tougher than that. But when you don’t feel tough it’s okay to have a down day and let others know what you need.”

“Thank you Stede,” Izzy said. He tucked in to the treats that Stede brought and Edward came back in and they spent the afternoon bullshitting in the Captain’s Cabin. Some of the other crew had worked on the prosthetic and by the end of the night it was fixed and the fit was even a little better. Roach had put a couple of more straps to help keep the leg in place and there was a little more padding to help with chafing.

Izzy walked around the room a bit, trying the fit out. It was indeed a little better. He still wished that he didn’t have to deal with the damn thing but…he was alive and had his family and maybe everything wasn’t perfect but it was enough.

#whumptober2023 #no.30 #it's okay just to say i'm not okay #ofmd #fic #izzy hands

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khaleesiofalicante · 2 years

Note

"I stand in the mess of myself" -Colum McCann

That first timeline was so soft and lovely and kdvskdjif I AM GETTING TOO MUCH FLUFF ITS GETTING CONCERNING

The scene with Max and Rafe made me 🥺🥺

Jia is the only president I will ever love😎

“Am I still the prettiest man in the world?” Alec chuckles. Magnus bops his nose. “Always.” I'M DYING💙💙💙

Jdhskdbidjd Magnus is unhinged as fuck lmao

Communication is so sexy tbh

The way I love these two-

Magnus making sure Alec knows how important this is and that he deserves all the recognition- just...fuck

Alec looks at him. He smiles at Magnus. And there it is. The higher power. Malec comparing each other to some higher power is my favorite thing EVERY OK?!?

“Perfect enough to put inside my heart.”💙💙

Alec practically runs out of the door. Magnus chuckles to himself and follows through. Who said being horny can't be productive at the same time??

“Oh for fuck’s sake! Can’t they like walk home?” Alec demands. “Max is six.” “So? He has legs.” My man has priorities jdhdkdjdl

Empathy is so fucking beautiful and sexy 😍

Max is a cheesy little shit and I am love him!!! He is just so innocent and cute🥺🥺🥺

In timeline two Max was indeed acting like an asshole. I mean he was waiting for David to text him and go to that party but it didn't happen😭 Still, asshole behavior

Honestly tho Alec has every right to decide what to do and if he wants to move on or not. Why do people forget that???

He forgot about his promise. It’s fine. Not all of them are Lightwood-Banes anymore anyway. AHH JUST STOP THE PAIN😭😭😭

“So that’s why it ended, huh,” Alec hums. “Raisins and bad luck.” Them talking here is kinda sad but also you can see how they are trying to heal and that is beautiful!!

Elyaas is so done with them and I can't blame him smh

Yall are terrifying together, love. Have a nice day :)

That was so fucking sad but I'm so damn glad they could talk to each other!!!

“I won’t let anyone hurt the blue-eyed boy.” “Good,” Alec smiles. “We won’t let anyone hurt you either.” THEM>>>>>

Them taking comfort on each other and knowing they can rely on the other to help them through this all is the most amazing thing ever and in this essay I will-

Omfg I love their reactions when Max told them about moving to London. Both of them went like ✨No :)✨

Max taking over Edom!!! I fucking knew it!!!!! Hell yeah let's go!!!!

His fake binder is honestly a mood af😎

“I just think it could be different. It’s like how Rafael wants to be a politician because he wants the government to be different.” This parallel is *chef kiss*

No thoughs, head empty except ✨mavid kids✨

“Shinyun Jung. Will you do me the honor of being my mentor?” kdvwkdkdlebi loved this so much. She indeed has big dick energy 🥰

Shinyun and Max living and working together, being competitive and skilled little shits its my favorite aesthetic💙💙 also Noodle???? I want to met them!!!

He would make such a gorgeous Prince of Edom and I think David can agree ;)

I love how Shinyun and Alec are like: I don't trust you but I trust Magnus so I'm going to behave idheieejek

And that’s what matters, doesn’t it?

That we all learn to care about something more than ourselves.

Maybe it’s a person. Maybe it’s a place.

It doesn’t matter.

Not as long as we care.

✨A FAVE ONCE AGAIN✨😍😍

“Take it,” Magnus says. “Take some of my strength.” not this parallel too, please it's too much udhdkdjdld

For two grown up men who have really qualified jobs and are successful... They sure are idiots!!!

Can we talk about how the whole scene with Izzy and Maryse was so fucking accurate and true??? ✨God, I love women ✨💙💙💙

No, you don't understand. They love LOVE each other!! Yes, that's a valid reason to scream😭

HE ATE THE FUCKING RAISINS!! OMFG HE HATES THEM!! SCREAMING AND CRYING I WILL NEVER RECOVER

What is love if not eating each other's raisins when needed?

And finally: YOU GOT TO BE FUCKING KIDDING ME DANI! I AM IN PANIC AND I TOTALLY BLAME YOU! WHY DO THE BEST CHARACTERS SUFFER SO MUCH?!?!😭

I will go scream in my room brb. And yes I'm still one chapter behind what about it?? jk, jk😂

Song rec: No Goodbyes by Dua Lipa

So in conclusion:

Women? Yes.

Raisins? No.

Wonderful life lessons 🥰🥰🥰

This is Max working for Edom like

#tlnd

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zackmartin · 2 years

Text

@neshabeingchildish anyway, about the parents... It just felt easier to make a whole new post than make our followers scroll forever (or make you scroll forever in your inbox), especially since we’re talking about parents now and the original conversation was about coffee 😅😅 (the post in question, in case anyone is curious about why the hell I’m randomly talking about all this for)

(Also, about me maybe misunderstanding your question, it’s not entirely you, my brain fog is so bad right now 😭 I read it right the first time, though. It just wasn’t until I reread it the other night that I realized it could maybe be interpreted differently and didn’t want to look like an idiot by giving you four paragraphs about how the dynamic between the parents is when you actually meant Zack himself and Henry’s parents. 😭😂)

Before I get into it, I do want to say something else real quick because I know you’ll let me; I always have Henry’s parents divorcing in the near future. I absolutely despised that shit they tried to pull with heavily implying that Siren was cheating on an unsuspecting Jake, so I always had them realizing that their kids are grown and they don’t need to use them as an “excuse” to stay together anymore, so they decide to just bite the bullet and go for the divorce. I don’t have an exact time frame for when this happens, but I know Henry was at least graduated from high school, and I would say Piper was AT LEAST a senior in high school, if not already graduated herself.

But, anyway, the parents get along for the most part! Like, they’re all okay with Zack and Hen hosting the holidays at their place so the grandkids can see all their grandparents for Christmas, and things like that. But, I do think the moms get along just a smidge more because 1) they make a concentrated effort for the sake of their kids (and then eventually the grandkids) and 2) I can’t think of a single thing Jake and Kurt (Zack’s Dad) have in common lmao Like, the dads might ask each other about work or something, but once that short convo runs its course, there’s just awkward silence 😅😅 (and in the case of Zack’s mom, Carey, whether she means to or not, I think she kinda latches on to any potential female friends because she’s surrounded by boys a lot of the time) So, the moms will go to lunch with each other when they’re in the same city, and when Izzy comes along, they’ll plan girls days with her (and sometimes Piper, if Piper also happens to be in town at that time), they’ll send each other birthday cards, and I think if Siren happened to be in Boston for whatever reason, she’d plan a night to see one of Carey’s shows and have dinner with her or something, etc etc But, the dads basically just see each other when they “have” to lol

Since I’m gonna talk about Zack’s relationship with Hen’s parents, I feel like I might as well talk about Hen’s relationship with Zack’s parents 😅🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️ I think Hen is a bit closer to Zack’s parents than Zack is to Henry’s parents. And it’s not like Zack hates Hen’s parents, or they hate him it’s just… I mean, it’s no secret that I despise the way adults act in Swellview, but it is what it is, and I don’t think it’s entirely unfair of me to say that Hen’s parents kind of “clocked out” when he was around, idk 17ish?? (and unfortunately it would be even easier to do that in this universe considering their kids live on a boat several months out of the year) Like, I don’t think they completely stopped being involved in Henry’s life but like, I don’t think they really learned about Zack until Henry was really serious about him and things like that

So, Zack gets along with them, but it’s basically because “these are Henry’s parents and I want them to like me because I love Henry” but he isn’t close with them. It’s just, they’re basically “the in-laws” ya know? The people that act as a babysitter for their kids when they need it and who visit every once in a while but that’s about it (he was SUPER nervous when he first met them, though) (it’s funny that i keep saying that, because he’s the least nervous person on the planet. he’s chill like, 99% of the time, we just happen to talk about the three times in is entire life where he was nervous) (but adults in general tend not to like him, and normally he wouldn’t care, but with Henry’s parents it was different, so he was just kinda anxious meeting them for the first time)

Okay, sorry to keep going off on tangents that feel unrelated to your question (although, I promise this one sort of circles back into it) but unfortunately you’ve made the mistake of letting me in the past but 😅😅 I do think Carey would both know Zack isn’t straight and that Henry is something other than a friend to him before Zack ever figures those things out himself, either from little “hints” she gets from her weekly calls with Cody (where he just makes an offhand comment that Zack’s spending ALL his time with that new kid, Henry) or from her monthly calls with Zack himself where the conversations slowly start to revolve around his new friend, Henry 🤣

So, it is not exactly breaking news to her when Zack eventually tells her that his relationship with Henry has kinda turned romantic lol and I say all that, to say that I think Carey would honestly like Henry before she ever even meets him because she can just tell how happy he makes Zack, and as crazy as it may sound, Hen’s a good influence on him (maybe not with the grades and school cause they’re both bad about that, but in other aspects of his life lmao) and ya know, once he gets past the whole “hating him” thing, he treats him well 🤣 so, there’s not really much more she could ask for when it comes to a partner for her son. Not only that, but even if it wasn’t obvious to her over the phone, she would see it when she actually saw them interacting together, because, even though Zack likes to pretend like he’s too “cool” for emotions (a persona that only exists in his own mind, btw) his feelings for Henry are written all over his face

(there is a conversation to be had about the fact that Carey’s personality in the original show was sort of “Mom first, person second” but like. Obviously her role was going to be Mom to Zack and Cody since they were twelve when the show first started and she’s literally their mother lmao but even in the case of London and Maddie, they would often turn to her for comfort or advice when they needed it, because she often acted as an older sister/motherly figure to them as well, so that was sort of the “energy” she gave off) So while Hen’s parents started pulling back when he’s at an age where he’s becoming independent and he’s about to start on his own life journey, I do think, at least subconsciously, he would notice that “absence” of a parental figure, so she eventually ends up filling that role whenever he’s comfortable enough around her. (she honestly is the type of mom that really wouldn't hesitate to take him in if he needed it; like if the roles were reversed, and it was Henry that ended up coming out to his parents by mentioning that he’s dating zack and they decided to be truly shitty and kick him out or whatever, she would make sure he had somewhere else to live because that’s just who she is) And I’ve honestly had it in my head that Henry started calling her Mom before he and Zack were ever engaged (but after they’ve been together for a few years and they’re living together, and it’s clear to basically everyone that this is a long haul thing lol) Like, it just slips out one day and he’s a little embarrassed by it and apologizing profusely but she thinks it’s sweet and she tells him he can call her that if he wants to. He doesn’t really jump into using it all the time right away, but over time it kinda happens more and more until that’s just,,, what he calls her.

And Henry gets along with Zack’s dad because Zack basically takes after his dad. Like, when he first met him, it just kinda clicked in his head that this is why Zack is the way that he is (not necessarily in a bad way). But like, in chapter 8 of DoD, there’s that scene where Jasper and Henry are going through Zack’s room, and Jasper finds all those CDs; it was always my HC that those CDs were given to him by his Dad because they share a similar taste, and there was an episode of the original show where his Dad gave him a vintage guitar (that I always assume belonged to Kurt first but idk for sure) and Zack was so excited and he knew the exact model, and I said this in Lizzie’s ask about her mechanic AU, but I always had an HC that Kurt gave Zack his old motorcycle as like, a christmas present one year when he was like, 19, that he was THRILLED about; so my long-winded point, is that they’re A LOT alike, so it just stands to reason (to me, anyway) that Henry gets along well with him.

Anyway, sorry for taking nine paragraphs to answer your very simple questions but 🤷🏻‍♀️

#nesha tag 🌻#zenry #also sorry if this is a little rambly or confusing in parts. my new meds are REALLY fucking with my head

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hannahssimblr · 4 months

Text

Chapter Twelve

It rains for the entire week once we return from Berlin, and I’m glad of it, as it gives me a good excuse to stay in bed with my laptop watching illegally downloaded films until I fear my body may have melded with the sheets. I work for eight hours, and then come home to spend the remaining sixteen under the duvet, eating things that make my body feel bloated and ill, but Shane is too preoccupied to notice. He doesn’t text me once about our early morning runs, only ever showing up to have intense conversations with Claire that I can only hear muffled snippets of through the wall that connects our bedrooms.

“I can’t get my head around this.” She’s saying to him on Friday, “What am I going to tell my parents when they ask about you?” He mumbles something in response, and I turn the volume up on my laptop.

Jude does not speak to me, he doesn’t contact me once, not a call or a message or a miserable ‘like’ on any of my Instagram posts, because, true to his word he’s allowed me time to think about the things he said, about being in love with me and wanting me and all of those other things that I could have only imagined him saying in one of my dreams about him, and I am thinking. I’m thinking about his lips against mine and his tongue in my mouth and his fingers digging into my hips, the way that my name sounded when he spoke it, that made me feel as though my insides had turned to syrup. I badly wanted him to keep saying it, touching me, doing more to me and keep going, and I think about it all over and over and over again, on replay until I’m sure I will wear out the memory.

I spend significant time thinking about what’s wrong with me too, and how there must be a large portion of my brain that’s severely abnormal, if someone like Jude can declare the things he declared to me, only for it to make me to run out of the apartment, onto a train and into my hostel bed and spend the night sobbing with my face in the pillow.

But having boyfriends is the type of thing that other people do, not me. I can’t picture it. My mind doesn’t conjure up anything different to the things that I’ve already had with Dean. What if I’m so bad at sex with Jude that it annoys him, and he simply shimmies back into his trousers and leaves me alone, feeling used, like he’s taken something important from me and smashed it on the floor, while shaking his head and saying that he’ll text me sometime, maybe, if he feels like it. Tears spring to my eyes and instantly blur my view of the screen. He couldn’t treat me like that, could he? But then again at times I think that I’ll never be surprised by the things that men will do.

Shane passes by my bedroom door and hurries down the stairs and out of the door. He doesn’t slam it, he doesn’t do that anymore, but I know the way that he walks when he’s angry. I peer out the window as he strides out onto the street below without his hood while the downpour pelts him, and he cuts through the park and disappears under the tangle of branches. Claire comes in.

“Hi.” she says, and her nose is red and her eyes are puffy. “Can I crawl into your bed for a while?” I tell her that she can, and she nestles in beside me and gathers the duvet up to her waist. She simply wraps her arms around mine and rests her damp cheek on my shoulder.

“Do you want to talk about it?” I ask.

“No.” She pulls a crumpled tissue out of her hoodie pocket and uses it to dab away the tears that have clung to my own lashes. “Do you?”

I laugh thickly. “No.”

“What are you watching?”

“Something stupid.”

“Mind if I watch too?”

I celebrate my birthday on an ordinary Tuesday, and that day as I make my way to the studio I pass by my bookshop mural, and see that somebody called DOLE KING has spray painted a tag on it. It leaves me feeling deflated for the whole morning.

Someone at Mezzotint discovers that it’s my birthday, against my will, and they send Izzy down to the local Spar to pick up a box of french fancies and stick a birthday candle into the top of one. I am mortified by the fuss and insist that they shouldn’t have bought me anything, but get through six of them in an hour anyway and then feel too sick to eat any lunch.

Jude texts me in the afternoon, a sad, remote message.

Happy birthday, Evie. Hope that you’re keeping well.

I stare at it until I think I’m going to burst into tears, and I usually prefer not to cry on my birthday if I can help it. I write back something that I hope will make it seem like I’m busy.

Thanks! U too

Later on, Shane asks me if I want to postpone our gym session, seeing as it’s a special day and I probably shouldn’t be suffering at his hands during it, but I tell him no, I’d rather get my energy out in some way, so we agree to meet by the river at five. He proposes that we go for a jog, seeing as the sun won’t set for over an hour and the day has been bright and clear, so I change into my shorts in the Mezzotint bathroom and we take off running along the water’s edge.

I’ve recently reached a milestone on our jogs where instead of wheezing and gasping, dragging my limp body along behind Shane with a beetroot red face, I can skip alongside him, and sometimes even make light conversation. Mainly I talk, and he listens or acts like he doesn’t want to talk back even though I know he is secretly interested in things like the mystery of who has been stealing Petra’s hot chocolate sachets from behind the till, or whether Izzy will explode this week over Gabriel’s messy workspace, or keep leaving passive aggressive notes around the place that he ignores and throws onto the floor. Today though, I don’t really feel like talking.

“Doing anything after this?” He asks me eventually after a good ten minutes listening to the sound of our feet hitting concrete.

“No.” I say. “Probably going home to watch TV.”

“Bit grim, no?”

“Yeah, a bit grim. It’s alright.” I feel him looking at me and stare pointedly ahead. “It actually is alright, I feel like you don’t believe me.”

“Yeah ‘cause I obviously don’t.”

I sigh. “I don’t care about my birthday. That’s all it is, like, I’m not just moping around and being deliberately sad, I just amn’t bothered to go out or do anything. I’d honestly rather just chill out on my own.”

“That’s sad, Evie. You know that’s sad. You’ve just turned twenty one.”

“Being twenty one actually doesn’t mean anything. I don’t care about it.”

“You’ve been a bit miserable for a while.” He points out, before adding awkwardly “If you want someone to talk to about it, you know…”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s been since you got back from your holidays. I’ve no idea what happened in Berlin, but it sounds like it didn’t go very well, so-”

“Oh my God, Shane, please shut up.” I stop running and press my hand against my sweaty forehead. “Please, like, I’m begging you not to try and talk to me about this.”

He looks wounded. “Right, sorry.” And I lean over the railings to stare into the murky depths of the Liffey. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be harsh, I’m just trying to sort things out in my head, I really don’t think that talking to you about it would make it easier.”

“I get it. I shouldn’t’ve asked.”

I suddenly feel rotten. “No, it’s alright. I’m just kind of sick of people trying to tell me what I should and shouldn’t do all of the time. It’s like everyone thinks that I’m this stupid, naive girl who can’t make any of her own decisions, and that I need to be guided along all of the time. I just want to think about this on my own.”

“About what though?”

I glance at him over my shoulder. “What do you think happened in Berlin, Shane?”

He shifts from one foot to the other. “Well-” he clears his throat uncomfortably. “Well I’m not completely sure any more, to be honest. I thought maybe he ended up not liking you back or something, like, maybe that you’d said something and he’d shot you down.”

“No. That’s not what happened.”

“So…?”

“You really didn’t speak to Claire about this?”

“I tend not to ask people personal questions about other people, to be honest.”

“Good for you.”

“She just said you were upset and we left it there.”

“It’s more complicated than just ‘upset’.”

Shane comes over to stand beside me, and leans down on the concrete ledge so that we’re practically eye to eye. He has a very serious face when he speaks. “If I need to do anything, or say anything to make this better, I can. Jude is my friend but I’ll take him down no bother, he’s bigger than me, but I’m stronger, I think I could do it.”

How can I explain that I’m the one who really should be taken down? “No.” I say, exasperated. “He doesn’t need anything like that, you can spare him the stern talking to or, I dunno, the box in the head, or wrestling in muck, or whatever you had in mind.”

“What did he do?” Shane is insistent.

I cringe. “He’s in love with me.”

A bus rumbles past, a bicycle bell dings at a pedestrian, a fish flops out of the water and back in, and Shane sighs through his nose. “Is he not allowed to do that now or something?”

“Of course he’s allowed.” I say incredulously. “What does that even mean?”

“I’m not being smart, I honestly just don’t get what you’re on about. Why does that make you sad? Is that not what you wanted?”

“Yes, it’s what I wanted.”

“And you’re obviously in lo-, you obviously like him back, don’t you?”

I don’t answer.

“So you fancy him, he fancies you back, and now you’re upset. I think this is exactly why some fellas think that girls are confusing.”

“I’m not representative of all girls.” I say in weak protest. “It’s just that there’s something wrong with me in particular.”

“You always say that. There’s nothing wrong with you, don’t be so stupid.”

“I’m not being stupid, believe me, this all feels completely rational.”

He raises his eyebrows, inviting me to enlighten him about why all of this is so rational and sensical, and my nostrils flare. “I can’t be with someone who’s obviously too good for me.”

He rolls his eyes so hard that his pupils disappear. “That’s the type of thing that makes sense in your head and then you say it out loud and it sounds like pure bullshit. You shouldn’t say things like that. Would it not make sense to let him decide who’s too good for him?”

“I have no proof that he makes good decisions, I don’t want to be one of his bad ones.”

“Genuinely, Evie, no word of a lie, that is the stupidest thing I’ve ever had to hear.”

I cross my arms heatedly. “I know that you don’t fancy boys, Shane, but even you can tell that he’s shockingly beautiful.”

He doesn’t even blink. “Yeah obviously, if I was that good looking I wouldn’t know what to do with myself. I think you’re saying this to confirm that he’s too good looking to go out with you, which doesn’t make any sense at all, so don’t even say it.”

I say it with my eyes.

“He got with a load of average looking girls from the caravan parks over the years.” He offers. “And even after that, I know there was one girl in Berlin who was dead normal looking.”

“That doesn’t make me feel any better, but thanks.”

“But look, it’s not lost on me that Claire is way better looking than I am, she’s the finest girl in Tullamore, and I’m probably not considered to be the nicest looking lad around, but I went for it anyway, and I talked to her and we got along and that was that. I asked her to go out with me and she said she would.”

“With all due respect, Shane, of course that would happen to you.”

“What’s that mean?”

“I mean you’re Shane Healy, you literally get everything you want by hardly even trying to get it.”

He blinks hard in mock confusion and turns a quick circle on the spot. I squint at him. “What’s wrong with you? Are you possessed?”

“Sorry” He says, pretending to be dazed. “I thought I was just talking to my sister there for a minute, so odd.”

“Ugh!”

“Oh Shane, you get everything you want and you’re so spoiled.” He says as Kelly, even though his impressions are always completely awful. “You’re mammy’s favourite child, boo hoo.”

“It’s objectively true that you’re Caroline’s favourite.” I say flatly. “And it’s objectively true that the universe provides you with all of the things you want.”

“I wish that it was.” He says with a faltering grin. He slumps next to me and gently yanks one of my plaits. “I think that you’re using this shallow stuff to cover up the fact that you’re scared of something else.” he tells me. “And I know you’ve not had an easy run of things, but just like you don’t represent all girls, that creepy, bleach blonde scab from first year doesn’t represent all lads and the types of things they’re going to do to you.”

“What if I have some kind of subconscious draw towards horrible men, though? What if there’s a trait that everyone else can spot, but I can’t, and I’ll just keep blindly walking into toxic situations?”

“It hasn’t anything to do with you. Dean would have exploited anybody, it was just that you were the first to come along.”

“I was naive, and very stupid.” I insist. “And I should have seen the signs, and I should have listened to what everyone was saying to me.”

“Yeah, like you made a mistake, but you’re not going to let it happen again.” With a hand on my shoulder he turns me toward him. “The worst thing you can actually do is let that whole thing ruin everything else you could have going forward. Someone else having feelings about you doesn’t mean they’re automatically cracked in the head.”

“Is it mad that I kind of don’t believe him?” I say quietly, and Shane’s eyes get very big and soulful. “Come on, Evie. Everyone knows he dies for you. The only person who doesn’t know it is apparently you. He goes weak when you’re around. We used to make fun of him because he’d get all embarrassed whenever you came up in conversation, and there was this time that he started on Joe over something he said…”

“What did Joe say?”

“Um. Something about your shorts, or your legs or something, I don’t remember.” Shane goes a bit red. “And Jude like, I suppose, he kind of implied that there was something wrong with Joe if he was thinking that everyone else would want to hear his thoughts about you.”

“Ah.” I picture the scene as I imagine it really happened, the five friends lounging in that messy living room, Joe with his hoodie strings pulled around his face, and his lazy smirk, and Jude, his body tensing the way it always does when he gets upset. The kinds of things that he might have said in my defense. It makes me want to wince. I am thrilled by it.

“And I remember the two of ye back then too, always giggling about something in the corner, pointing at the ugliest things on TV or in magazines and saying ‘that’s you’ and all that, thinking ye were gas. The feeling was clearly mutual between ye, it just doesn’t make any sense why you’d sabotage it now when you have the chance to see if it’ll work out between you.”

Sabotage. That’s the second time I’ve heard that word in a month. Is that really what I’m doing? “Why are you only telling me that now?”

“Because it’s so blatantly obvious, I didn’t think I’d need to say it.”

“Did he ever talk to you about me?”

He lifts his hand away from my shoulder and stares elusively over the river. “A bit.” He says.

“When?”

“A few times.”

“Which times?”

He makes a face. “You’re asking me to breach the trust of my friend. Would you like it if I went around telling people the kinds of things you say to me?”

“But it’s my birthday.”

He snorts. “And this is what you want as a present, is it?”

“Yes please.”

He chuckles and shakes his head as he begins to saunter back down the path. I scurry after him. “You’re not going to tell me?”

“Jude and I don’t talk to each other the way that you and Claire do, you realise that? He’s just my friend from holidays, I see him like, three times a year, max.”

“But he still said things.”

“Yeah, he has.”

“What are they?”

“It’s a lot more fun having you being so obviously desperate, to be honest, maybe I’d rather not say.”

“Oh you’re cruel!”

He laughs to himself and then ducks swiftly into a supermarket on the corner. “Wait here.” I do, and a few minutes later he reemerges with two bouquets of flowers. Tulips, my favourite, but he doesn’t know that. He chucks one to me rather unceremoniously. “There, you can have these instead. Happy birthday, squirt.”

I don’t know what to say. “Thank you, this is actually really nice.”

“Don’t sound so shocked.” He ambles along the path and I go with him. “Now forget about asking anything else from me, that’s all you’re getting.”

“Are those for you or Claire?” I nod towards the second bouquet, which I note is the slightly less wilted one.

“What do you think.” He says monotonically.

“I suppose who else would they be for.”

“She’s a bit annoyed at me lately.” He admits. “I’m just doing what I can think of to make her feel better.”

“I think you’ll be alright, you’ll work it out.” I say, even though I have no evidence to back that up, and sometimes when I hear their vicious bickering in the kitchen I really don’t think that at all.

“Hm.” Is all he says, and only when he waves down the bus do I realise that we’ve even reached a stop. “Let’s get you home anyway, maybe if you don’t mind it, the three of us can watch telly together, instead of like, you doing it on your own in a very sad way.”

“Yeah that’d be nice.” I admit, and the bus doors hiss as they open. Shane goes ahead of me, but turns around to say one more thing before we get on.

“He said you’ve nice eyes, by the way, or some shit like that.”

I stare at him. “Nice eyes?”

“Yeah.” and he pulls a face at me. “Happy?”

We get back to my apartment half an hour later, chatting jovially and laughing with each other, but we unlock the door to find Claire frantic in the kitchen.

“Oh my God.” She says when she sees us. “Where have you two been? I was calling you!”

“Uh, my phone was on silent.” Shane says, and I reach for mine, inside my little bag and swipe it open to reveal twelve missed calls. From Claire and Jude. I feel my stomach sink like a rock.

“What’s happened?”

“Jen.” Claire says. “She’s just been in an accident.”

Beginning // Prev // Next

#lucky girl part 3 #oops forgot to update #tw: accident

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angstysebfan · 3 years

Text

The Past Can Break You - 6

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

AU: Avengers

Summary: You and Bucky have been dating for aa few years. As far as you’re concerned he is the one. But what happens when a blast from the actual past shows up?

A/N: Ive seen a lot stories of Bucky getting his first love from the 40′s back. And I’ve always wondered... what would happen if he was dating someone already? Reader is from this time. Not proofread.

Warning: Language!, angst, short chapter (sorry)

Bucky didn’t now how long he sat on the floor, constantly re-reading your letter. He could feel the hurt and anger in your words, and it killed him. He knew Dot did something while he was away, but what? His immediate reaction was to go to Dot and confront her, but he didn’t trust that he wouldn’t hurt her.

After what seemed like forever, there was a low knock on the door. Steve and Nat came in and saw Bucky on the floor, and quickly ran over.

“Buck? What happened man? Where’s Y/N?” Steve asked in concern.

Nat picked up the letter and read it, immediately getting angry. “What the fuck did you do now Barnes? You promised that you wouldn’t fuck up again,” Nat said.

Bucky turned to Nat with a mix of sadness and anger, “I didn’t do anything! I was on the mission with you. I came up from Medbay and found her letter. Dot must have done something while we were away. I have to find Y/N. I need to fix this,” Bucky said with tears running down his face.

Nat felt sorry for the super soldier, but her anger immediately switched to Dot. What did that bitch do to you that you upped and left with no word. Nat looked at Steve who also looked angry.

“Have you spoken to Dot yet?” Steve asked.

Bucky shook his head, “I didn’t trust that I wouldn’t hurt or kill her. I’ve been here since I saw the note. What if I never get Y/N back? She... she is the love of my life Steve. I need to find her,” Bucky begged.

“I’ll help you find her, but I think we need to find out what Dot did before we talk to Y/N. At least so you know what you are dealing with,” Nat said.

Steve shook his head, “Dot won’t tell us anything. She was a manipulative bitch back in the day. I can’t imagine how bad she is now that she wasn’t allowed to have what she wanted,” Steve said angrily.

Nat was shocked at Steve’s outburst, but thought about how they could fix this. “What if we manipulate the situation from here on out,” Nat said with a smirk.

Both men look at Nat cautiously, “What do you mean?” Bucky asked.

“I might have a plan,” Nat said.

You had walked around the city with your bags for hours. Part of you were shocked that Bucky didn’t come running for you immediately, but then you remembered you left everything at the compound so he would have trouble finding you. You look out over the water, thinking of where to go from here.

For the first time since the incident happened, you allowed yourself to cry. You were so sure that Bucky would never hurt you like this. You were so sure that Bucky loved you like she said. You thought you could trust him. But know you know that everything you thought you knew about the man you loved was a flat out lie.

You thought coming back to the city from the compound was good enough, but the amount of memories you have with Bucky here suffocate you. You knew that staying in the city is too close. Plus, you figured eventually Bucky would come running with some fake as apology. You wish you could smack him and his precious Dot right across the face.

How stupid you were to forgive him when you knew how important Dot was to him. I mean he never shut up about her before she miraculously found her way into this century. Why did you think he would just ignore her for you? You were nothing compared to the love of his life. The woman he compared all women to. The one who got to see the charming James Buchanan Barnes in the flesh before his life drastically changed.

You secretly hope that she doesn’t hurt him when she realizes he is not the same man. If and when she knows of the trauma he has been through, and what he did for so many years. You didn’t care about any of that, but you could see the princess having a problem.

You shook your head at yourself for caring what happens with them from here on out. “Come on, Y/N! He doesn’t matter anymore. He doesn’t love or respect you. Forget about him!,” you scold yourself.

You look out at the water and think of where to go from here. You have no family except for the Avengers, and you can’t and won’t go back to compound. You don’t want to reach out to anyone yet, so that Bucky can’t find you. You think for a few minutes before a thought hits you. You knew where to go.

You find yourself heading toward Port Authority Bus Terminal. You were getting on a bus and getting the hell out of here. Once you find yourself settled you would call Nat and Wanda and let them know you are safe. You had gotten a burner phone before leaving in case. They are the only one’s you can trust at the moment. Well maybe Tony also. But everyone else might tell Bucky where you are. And you officially am cutting him from your life for good.

You climb onto the bus and put your bags above you and sit. Once you leave the city Bucky will be nothing but a distant memory. Nothing but a mistake you will learn from. Nothing. As the bus leaves the city you feel a mix of relief and heartbreak.

Then the burner phone starts to vibrate. No one knew the number so you can’t help but be nervous. You cautiously pick it up and before you can speak you hear your best friend.

“Y/N, don’t hang up,” Nat said.

Chapter 5 / Chapter 7

Sorry this chapter kinda sucks and is short. It’s filler mostly, however I think you will like what’s coming. Feedback is appreciated.

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