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#EVERYTIME I READ THIS PANEL I TEAR UP A LITTLE
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Honestly thank you so much for always creating S-rank heroine (and Tesilid) content! I just stumbled into your blog today after searching for S-Rank Heroine content in Tumblr and I can already see myself looking forward to any of your future posts.
Everytime I read any of your posts I lose my mind a little bit more (especially Thesilid's "you've always sided with the world",,, I didn't realize the meaning of why he said that until I read your post after [SPOILER] happens and I'm wrecked because,,, Thesilid,,, *shakes his shoulders* he has been through so much and he deserves a vacation)
I am also curious about your pfp, did you draw it yourself or was it a panel from the manhwa? I don't think I've seen it before, but then again I might've missed or misremembered it (I really need to reread it soon...)
WAAAH THANK YOU FOR THIS ASK!!!
did a little dance when i saw the follower notif and now im wiping happy tears!! when i first checked the s-class heroine tag on tumblr i was so devastated to find NOTHING apart from just novel covers orz. im so glad to hear that i helped make your experience different! tysm for telling me so i can have this moment <3
(cut for length)
and thank you for following me on my adventure of losing my mind about tesilid argente, the moment i connected the dots for "you're on the side of this world" was legit so bad. like realising [spoiler] felt like a horror reveal, and rereading every tesilid moment after was a growing sense of fascinated horror and when i read that line, for a second of blissful ignorance that line was the same but then i connected the dots and i had to legit pause during my reread and press my hand to my eyes and choke out a little sob. i want to wrap him up in a blanket so bad. i rly understand why ailette is so overprotective of him now, but the fact that ailette is also a source of stress for him.... ughhhh.
anw for my pfp, it's from ch 31 of the webtoon! it's when ailette is told by the TM gods that she only exists in tesilid's 17th timeline and she imagines what it must be like for him
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i love this moment bc whenever i read it pre-spoiler i was like hahaha so cute and funny and tesilid looks sooo cute as a doll and ill also not think abt the implications of this and hope for the best.
and then post spoiler it's just. the most devastating thing ever. it's so cruel that it's presented so cutely. i love it. it makes me want to scream and howl.
and in the parts of the novel that i've read, i haven't even seen how tesilid actually feels about this and dealt with it. i bet it's gg to be like when ailette finally found him again and he was in way worse shape than i could have ever imagined.
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galaxynajma · 3 months
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Hiii, hello!! Gojo for the send me a character thing 👀?
Hey Hi Hello
My first impression: I thought he was good looking and funny and I may or may not have been smiling like a idiot everytime he was on screen but the thing is that I thought I would like him even more but I didn’t? ( and then I started to read the manga)
My impression now: man where do I even start? Gojo as a character has grown a lot on me even tho he was in that box for half the series he’s still and might forever be up there as one of my favorite characters ( … sadly ) sigh i remember how much i was shaking and tearing up when the leaks for chapter 236 were coming out
Favorite thing about that character: his eyelashes:) and his lips such kissable lips ( and also his gay romance with His best friend )
Least favorite thing: his personality… no I’m just kidding ( a little) Gojo wasn’t the greatest teacher he has this issue of putting all his energy on a few of his students that he sees great potential in ( Yuuta Hakari Yuuji heck maybe even Megumi ) we don’t know if Gojo ever trained with his other students ( Nobara Maki Toge Panda Kirara ) I also don’t think it was the best idea to have that old dude from Kyoto to be one of the new higher ups
Favorite line/scene: nah I’d win… jk jk ummm there’s a lot of good lines that Gojo has said
But I’ll have to pick when Gojo got sealed all of it is good
Favorite interaction that character has with another: of course I’m gonna pick Mr bangs on this one Mr " Satoru 😩🍆💦 " Mr monkey slayer
Geto suguru but Nanami is a good pick too and Shoko
A character that I wish that character would interact with more: NOBARAAAAA she’s literally one of his students ( also maybe Kirara and Hakari but mostly Kirara )
Another character from another fandom that reminds me of that character: Jack Frost…. JUST JOKING
Idk I can’t really think of anyone.. Gojo does remind me of a certain kind of bird but that doesn’t really count does it?
A headcanon about that character: yk almost all of my Gojo Headcanons that I said on here haven’t been the most.. um wholesome but I’m gonna change that! No talking about Gojo’s asshole here or what he can do with that mouth of his
Gojo loves cinnamoroll everytime he sees something cinnamoroll related he must have it
Geto loves buying him cinnamoroll themed things
A song that reminds of that character: Gege said once that shame on me by avicii was one of Gojo’s theme songs and I don’t think I’ll ever forget that besides that idk ( kinda on a similar topic but I feel like Gojo would listen to Lady Gaga )
An unpopular opinion about that character: Gojo doesn’t need to be perfect and make it out to be that he has done no wrong his flaws make him human
There’s more to Gojo’s character not just him being the strongest not just his relationship with Geto
Also STOP TRYING TO MAKE EVERYTHING ABOUT GOJO OR STSG WHEN ITS ACTUALLY ISN’T
He isn’t a fuckboy btw he’s actually a big loser
Favorite picture: there’s a lot of good photos of Gojo but here’s some of my favorites:)
His dumb little smile!
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Idk why I love this panel so much ( it’s his pouty lips and the way he looks like he’s about to cry hmmm maybe he really is breakable )
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Gojo satoru with Catoru
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Injustice Gods Among Us: Year 2 #20
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ghost-like-pale · 3 years
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fuckin' perv
info: some gross guy thinks you're his, sapnap thinks otherwise. 》 female clothing/anatomy, they/them pronouns 》 irl + romantic 》 1.4k words
warnings: (sexual) harassment and assault, physical fighting, hurt/comfort, swearing
a/n: ty for the support on my last piece ♡ please enjoy
this blog it meant as a way of coping with trauma/mental issues, please don't report it. if you don't want to see what i write, please just block me.
——♤——
the evening sun shone an orange glow over the city. the chatter of the citizens rang through the streets past all the tall buildings, the cars and taxis making their way to their patron's destinations and the smell of your favorite restaurants wafted past the pavement. you've grown up in the city, getting used to it, yet never getting bored.
all of these memories made you think about your boyfriend; he was a real country boy - born and raised in texas and everything. it never failed to bring a smile to your face whenever he pointed out a particularly tall office or a pretty neon 'open' sign.
something he's never been very fond of is the people. specifically older men. they always had a certain look on their face as you walked by, making him swing an arm around your hip or slipping a hand in your pocket. he's always been quite protective over his lover. you didn't mind, though.
there wasn't much time to reminisce on your loverboy right now - you were going to see him today! your car broke the day before, so with great displeasure you had to take the bus. you hated public transport. everyone was so close to each other, the air was stuffy and there was always someone to make you horribly uncomfortable.
you pulled your mask further over your nose when you reached the stop. the small space was bordered by plastic panels and a poster for some music event, nothing of interest. the sound coming from your earbuds made your foot tap the the rhythm until the bus finally emerged from the passing traffic.
the ride was peaceful, which made you strangely wary - like a calm moment before the storm. you didn't mind the busride being quiet, but the feeling never shook.
after waving at the busdriver and thanking him kindly, you hopped off the vehicle onto the concrete pavement. three other people walked out with you; and old couple, one holding a walker and a 20-something year old man. the clicking of his tongue grew impatient as he got stuck behind the couple. after a moment the two elders managed to get off the bus safely and the man could finally get to his stop.
you didn't pay them any mind, you wanted to see sapnap as soon as possible. you kept walking at a brisk pace, growing more exited with every step. after passing and crossing a few streets you started to feel uneasy. feeling eyes drilling right through your back, you rummaged in your bag and pulled out a small handheld mirror and lip gloss. as you were applying your gloss you glanced behind you, scanning the faces you could catch from within you peripheral vision.
you were surprised to see the impatient man from the bus stop a few feet behind you. now realizing the situation, you hastily stuff everything back into your bag and start walking again, this time quicker than before. the stabbing look didn't shake, however.
you were getting more anxious as it got darker and the crowds became scarce. the destination was on the edge of the city, where there was nothing other than small stores and the occasional crappy apartment building. the pavement was easy to see if you looked down; no polished dress shoes, no sneakers, no stilettos, nothing. just the occasional group of chatting teenagers passing by or an overworked retail worker walking home.
with every frantic step forward he seemed to get one step closer. the sound of your feet tapping on the floor came to a halt as you arrived at a crosswalk with a red light. the man hummed an unorganized tune and stood behind you and casually waited for the light to turn green. everytime you'd move, so would he. the brief moment waiting in front of the crosswalk felt like centuries.
ding. the pole emitted a bright green and you sighed in relief. you rushed over to the other side of the street, making sure not to hit someone on the way there. as you were moving along you suddenly felt a hand on your back, slowly gliding down over your-
"what are you doing?!"
the panic in your voice didn't phase the man, though he did take his hand off your lower half and placed it on your neck instead. he slowly backed you into a small alleyway while muttering a response.
"calm down, cutie. it's just a hand."
you slapped his hand off yourself, losing the hope you had when you realized you were the only one with him on this block.
"let me go, you creep!"
this response to his 'compliment' didn't please him; he harshly grabbed you by the roots of your hair and pushed you against the cold brick wall of a corner store.
"listen here, bitch. you're gonna listen to me real good, and you're gonna obey everything i tell you, understood?"
you whimpered in pain, shutting your eyes and tears dipping at your chin.
"understood?!"
with another yank at your hair you mewled and nodded hastily. this seemed to satisfy him.
"good. now, let's have some fun, shall we?"
his hand rested on your thigh and gradually made its way up, under your skirt until it hit your underwear. the other was around your wrists, holding them both with his larger hands to the side of your head. his feet trapped yours, putting his weight on your toes so you wouldn't kick him.
"ngh-!"
"heh, can't handle stimulation, can you? guess this will be more fun than i imagined- ugh!"
the man was knocked back harshly, the hand that connected with his face quickly retreating to the body it belonged to. sapnap. the man felt his jaw, there was blood dripping off his lip.
"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING TO THEM?!"
sapnap boomed in anger at the man. before he could even think of an answer he was hit again by the same hand. sapnap was now right next to you, him seeing your trembling figure in his peripheral vision. once he was sure that gross excuse of a person was going to stay down he turned to you.
his entire body language changed; his arms turning from tense limbs into a welcoming place to rest in, his chest forming into a warm pillow to fall into, his eyes from a slaughtering rage into a kind and sympathetic expression. your tears were already flowing as you sank into his embrace. he engulfed you completely, shielding you from everything and anyone, soothing the intense fear and horror you just experienced.
"you're okay now, baby. i got you, i got you."
his tone was smooth like honey, the words pulling you further in his secure clutch. the screaming must've attracted a few people, because before you knew it your hug was interrupted by him gently loosening his grasp and lowering his voice.
"we should get home, we don't want this hellhole to become a exhibition. here-"
he unwrapped his arms and pulled his grey hoodie over his head and handed the clothing article to you.
"wear this, baby."
you accepted his hoodie and threw it over your upper body. when you were finished sapnap grabbed your hand and guided you out the alleyway and turning a corner. his car was parked a little further.
"i wanted to give you a nice ride through the outer city, but i think you'd rather be home, am i right?"
you nodded. your face was stung by the wet streaks on your face with the cooling air hitting your features. you eventually reached the car, sapnap sitting down into the driver's position and you plopping down onto the passenger seat.
the soft revving of the car's engine made for a nice background noise as you drove over to sapnap's house. you reached the destination quicker than expected. time didn't feel like it was passing at this point.
your legs refused to move, even when sapnap opened the door for you. sapnap, understanding the situation, picked you up bridal-style and carried you and your bag out the vehicle.
your body was weak, both from the late hours of the night and your vivid memory of what happened about half an hour ago. the mattress sank next to you as you snuggled further under the covers. sapnap radiated warmth, making you move your body towards him and latching onto him like a koala.
"rest, angel. we'll talk about it in the morning."
his voice reverberated in his chest, the vibrations bringing you comfort. his hand found a good spot on the top of your head, lightly pushing it into him.
"good night, (y/n)."
you hummed as a response before passing out. sapnapchuckled at your cute resting face.
"sleep well, baby. you deserve it."
thank you for reading. please don't be too harsh on me, heh
masterlist
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seasonofthewicth · 3 years
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nobody does it like you do - act 6
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The final part!! I hope this is a satisfying conclusion! Thank you so much to everyone who has reblogged/commented/shared - it has meant so much. Special thank you again to @morganofthewildfire I'd still be working away at this fic if it wasn't for you, I don't know I ever would have finished it off. Your comments and analysis helped me so much and made this fic better than I could have alone, I'm so grateful.
13k - masterlist - ao3
--
There are five weeks between the eventful wrap party and her first day shooting the Netflix miniseries in Antica. Five weeks for Aelin to sort her shit.
It’s ambitious, and probably unattainable, but she needs a goal.
She needs something to draw her mind away from Rifthold and the director she knows is no longer there.
She gives herself a week of self pity. A week of lying around her sparsely decorated and impersonal Orynth apartment dwelling and pointedly ignoring the headlines she knows have been released. Elide let her know only one picture was captured of her with tears in her eyes leaving the party. Only one and gods bless Elide she shut it down.
Aelin lies on her uncomfortable couch in well-worn pyjamas with unwashed hair and runs through the photos on her phone of her and Fenrys, her and Manon, and the group of them together on set doing whatever shit they used to do.
She spends more time than she should like that. She sits there until her coffee table is overflowing with takeaway wrappers and Aedion and Elide have stopped texting more than once a day. She’s awful for ignoring them but she’s still mortified.
She hasn’t been able to look Aedion in the eyes since he dropped her back at her apartment after their long flight home from Rifthold. He didn’t say much. After he managed to again get her out of the party with minimal press she had cried, curled up between Aedion and Lysandra in their bed, and he didn’t offer judgement or instruction.
He just held her, whispering words she can’t remember but appreciates anyway. Now she hasn’t replied to any of his texts.
She hasn’t texted Fenrys or Manon either. She doesn’t know what to say.
She knows Fenrys jumped immediately into another movie, an action movie she knows he’s been chomping at the bit to get training for, and Manon into the second series of her show that she’s probably too famous for now.
They’re busy. They’ll understand. At least that’s what she tells herself.
The worst thing she does in that week is pour over the photos she has of Rowan. She didn’t realise she had so many but her camera roll is full of silver and green.
There are photos of just him, looking like Rowan, tall and handsome and understatedly happy, smiling covert little smiles at Aelin behind the camera. He was used to her instructing him to pose by the end of filming, she loved snapping away as he did anything. Eating, sleeping, smiling, everything - if it was Rowan she wanted it captured.
Now every photo is a knife to the chest.
The ones of the two of them together are worse, they twist the knife, pain splicing through her until she can hardly breathe. There are pictures of their cheeks pressed together, eyes shining, some serious, some silly. In all of them Aelin can clearly see her own happiness.
She can’t stop looking at them even as tears swell in her eyes and her throat gets tight.
For one week.
Until it’s been seven days since her flight landed back in Orynth and she gets up off her couch and deletes them. She almost doesn’t, her thumb hovers over the button for a good minute before she presses down but then it’s done and they’re gone. She showers and changes her clothes, she throws away all the rubbish on her coffee table and makes a plan.
Filming the movie with all of them it was easy to feel better than she did before, surrounded by new and exciting things, new people who didn’t know her before or treat her differently because of it. It was easy to lose herself in who she was there and with them.
Now though, she’s back to real life and real life lasts for an uneventful three weeks.
She tries what she can, she reads, she runs, she bakes, she teaches herself how to knit. None of it is satisfying and it's hard to make it stick. It’s all boring and never quite captures her attention the way she hopes. Never captures her attention enough to tear it away from Rowan and Rifthold.
A week before she flies out to Antica it changes.
She stumbles upon the change, completely accidentally, and she doesn’t realise what she’s needed until it's right in front of her.
Her usual run route is obstructed by construction and so she takes a left where she usually takes a right, heading down into the west side of the city, the side she doesn’t often frequent.
She used to. She used to spend hours strolling the streets letting the warmth of the sun and Sam’s hand in hers settle into her skin as they observed the numerous bakeries and small boutiques. Thankfully the scenery appears to have changed since.
The chill breeze of the September Orynth air teases the loose strands of hair tickling her face as she comes to a stop outside the sleek shop front. The wooden panels are painted a dark, glossy black and the windows are polished so brightly they reflect what’s left of the sunlight.
Music of Mistward the sign reads in curved, white lettering.
She can see her reflection in the shop window, her cheeks flushed, hair unruly, her running gear nowhere near to what would be appropriate attire for the shop dripping in class but she can’t turn away.
A bell tinkles as she pushes through the door, her headphones gripped tight in her fist as the gentle jazz playing over the sound system greets her. She doesn’t like jazz, it’s not her thing, but along with the musk of wood in the air it’s soothing in welcoming her in.
She passes walls of guitars and violins until she reaches the instrument that caught her eye. It’s sleek, black lid propped open revealing the elegant strings, pulled tight in neat lines. The sharp contrast of the keys against each other, bright against the deep black of the case. Her fingers ghost over them, dying to press down.
She hasn’t played since those days in Rowan’s Doranelle home. She’s wanted to, longed to feel the cool keys under her fingertips and the flood of the music pouring out of her, but the cheap keyboard in her Orynth apartment wouldn’t do Rowan’s beautiful instrument justice.
Aelin would rather not play at all than attempt a cheap imitation of what she felt there.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” A voice sounds behind her, low and raspy but cheerful all the same.
She turns, taking in the older man, his grey hair cut short and his classic shirt and slacks pressed crisp. She glances back to the piano before facing him fully.
“Stunning,” she breathes.
The man steps forwards and offers her his hand. She slips her hand into his and he pumps firmly as he introduces himself.
“Emrys,” he says. “Welcome to Music of Mistward.”
“Aelin,” she says, surprised to hear her voice thick.
“Great to meet you, Aelin,” Emrys says with an ancient smile. He nods towards the piano. “Do you play?”
“No,” she says and Emrys’ smile flickers. “Yes, I mean I used to. I want to,” is what she settles on.
He nods, satisfied, before taking a step closer to the piano. He runs a hand over the top, almost reverently and smiles to himself.
“Antique,” he starts, “almost one hundred years old but well loved. I acquired it recently - here we deal mostly in antique instruments, it’s a passion for both myself and my husband. The previous owner only sold it to me when she inherited it and didn’t know how to play, she wanted it to find a good home.”
He shares a smile with her as if she’s in on the joke but her breathing still hasn’t settled.
“Satin Ebony finish,” Emrys continues, “eighty-eight keys, all original but preserved to the highest quality. Accompanying bench, cut with refreshed velvet. I don’t know in all my years I’ve seen such a fine instrument as old as this.”
Aelin glances back to the piano, it’s big, it won’t fit in her apartment in Orynth but she doesn’t care. She can… adjust. She hasn’t felt a pull like this in a while, she doesn’t want to deny it when she does.
“How much?” she almost demands from the man in front of her.
He appraises her and she knows what he sees. Her bedraggled state and the tension through her shoulders doesn’t give the impression of someone with this much cash to throw around. She abruptly ignores that the way she probably can afford this is because of Rowan’s movie.
When he doesn’t speak she repeats herself, more firmly. “How much?”
“Our price includes delivery and tuning on arrival.” He seems apprehensive of telling her the truth. Aelin waits.
When he finally reveals the figure Aelin blinks. And then she extends her hand. “I’ll take it.”
To his credit Emrys just nods, shaking her hand. “You don’t want to at least play it first?”
Aelin feels the smirk she hasn’t worn in a while creep onto her face. “Is there a risk you’re pulling a fast one on me?”
Emrys returns her smile, a playful glint in his eye. “Not a chance, Aelin. Please follow me to the register where I can take your details.”
Aelin almost stumbles. Almost, but then recovers.
“Any chance I can pay a deposit and then let you know where you’ll be delivering sometime soon?”
Emrys winks knowingly. “Absolutely.”
She follows him to the counter, signs away part of a disgustingly large total of money but leaves with a sense of satisfaction. It’s an accomplishment, a step for purely selfish reasons.
The first thing she does when she leaves the shop is call Elide.
Aelin meets her new therapist two days before she flies out to Antica.
She hasn’t called her old one in months and thinks that’s probably a sign. And she’s all about changes at the moment.
She isn’t shooting in Antica for too long, only a couple of months until she’s back in Orynth and then back to Rifthhold for press. Her stomach drops everytime the thought wanders into her head.
She’s excited to be back in Rifthold, but the company is daunting.
Fenrys and Manon will easily be pissed at her disappearance. She knows Manon will play aloof but she also knows she’ll be upset, Fenrys too. Aelin didn’t mean to hurt them, didn’t mean to drop off the face of the Earth, and she knows she’s let them down but Fenrys and Manon remind her of Rowan. She couldn’t trust the conversation not to eventually steer towards him and Aelin isn’t ready for that.
Their break-up feels weirdly anticlimactic. After everything they built to, Aelin just dipped.
She knows it seems that way to Rowan at least. She hasn’t texted him, or rang him or anything since the party. She’s wanted to, wanted more than anything to hear his voice as she cried, but it’s not fair to him to drag it out and she knows that. She knew when she drew the line she had to stay on her side of it, no matter how much it hurt.
She had cried until her head pounded and her throat was raw. She cried until her eyes itched with no tears left to fall, until all that came out of her was hoarse screeches as she ached to hear him call her Fireheart one last time.
But no one needs to know that, she had kept it as hidden as she could.
She definitely didn’t need any more paparazzi pictures of her with red-rimmed eyes looking downtrodden. She couldn’t bear the thought of Rowan, or worse her mother, seeing them.
She knows Fenrys and Manon; Aedion, Lysandra and Elide would see through her flimsy excuses and so it was easier to stay quiet.
She’s not thinking about facing them yet. She supposes that will be something that likely comes up with this new therapist, but so far on her own, she’s choosing avoidance.
She gets Maeve’s number from Dorian, and she comes highly recommended by a number of Dorian’s other high profile clients. She’s well-versed in non-disclosure agreements, secret sessions and back street exits; she feels like the perfect fit for Aelin.
Unofficially, Dorian lets her know Maeve takes no shit, and that’s also just what Aelin needs.
They agree to online sessions while she’s in Antica, but Maeve recommended an initial meeting and Aelin is open to all of her suggestions.
Their first hour is not directly her most life changing but it’s a start.
“Welcome, Aelin,” Maeve says, sweeping an arm out towards the firm-looking, orange couch in the centre of the room.
Aelin takes a seat, mutters her thanks and glances around the room.
The room should feel cold with the exposed brick and minimalistic decor, the only furniture being the couch Aelin perches on, the almost regal armchair Maeve reclines in and a lamp, but it doesn’t and she gets comfortable tucking her feet beneath her thighs and leaning against the arm.
“So,” Maeve begins, surveying her in the way only a true professional can. “Let’s get started.”
Aelin feels bare beneath her gaze, and like everything about Maeve and her practise it should be unnerving but she just blinks against the scrutiny.
“Why are you here today? You could start with sharing why you have made this appointment.”
And isn’t that the million gold-mark question?
Aelin takes a deep breath through her nose and raises her chin.
“I don’t want to move backwards,” she admits. “Or maybe I just want to know I’ve actually moved forwards.”
Maeve’s expression stays calm, but Aelin knows she’d be smirking if she could. She’s well aware of how therapy works but even so, speaking her thoughts aloud can help to verify them in her own mind.
Aelin hopes so at least.
Their hour is over quickly and Aelin is resolved that Maeve is a good fit, reassured in Dorian’s claim that the woman takes no shit. Her all-knowing assessment of Aelin should have been unsettling but the frank dissection is what she needs.
Online therapy, especially fitting it around shooting might be a challenge but it’s for the best. As much as she values her independence and standing on her own two feet, Aelin is big enough to admit that facing her mother again may require some professional guidance. Seeing Rowan too, but again, she’s not thinking about that yet.
Antica is hot and Aelin is sweaty within seconds of stepping out of the air-conditioned luxury of the airport. That feeling lasts the entire time she’s there, disrupting the otherwise enjoyable time she has shooting the series.
Her new co-stars are fine, they invite her out with them and make her smile but she can’t help as though a part of her is always comparing them to who and what she left in Rifthold. Aelin tries her best to enjoy her time there with them, she hosts dinner parties and invites them to a game of Aedion’s but nothing quite hits the same as her time spent on The Crescent City.
She rationalises it to Maeve, that The Crescent City was a big turning point in her life and that it has nothing to do with Rowan, Fenrys or Manon, but she’s not sure she even believes it herself.
She spends the rest of her time in Antica trying to convince herself, and Maeve, that she’s moving past it. That she’s moving forwards or else she’ll move backwards. She’s not sure how much of it is futile.
The Crescent City is done, whether she likes it or not, and she can’t deny it changed her in ways she didn’t expect. It’s a hard pill to swallow that maybe it changed her beyond return to how she was before. She also can’t quite figure out whether she thinks that’s a bad thing or not.
They have a dinner for the core cast and crew, including Rowan, once they’re all back in Rifthold for the beginning of the press cycle. They have one night to reacquaint before they’re shoved into the whirlwind that is interviews, photoshoots and promotion.
She’s seen the trailer already and it’s just as she expected but more. It’s dark and dreary with flashes of brightness from herself and Fenrys and she’d want to watch it if she chanced a viewing as a member of the public.
What is surreal, is to see herself in a polished version of the film they were creating. Or at least a part of it.
She said each of the lines, rehearsed them over and over until they fell off her tongue without thought, but she still doesn’t recognise the girl in the trailer. A droplet of pride slips down her chest at the realisation that it’s not Aelin in the trailer but Feyre. She knows she’s good, has known it all along, but the realisation and reaffirmation is ecstasy better than any drug.
She hovers outside the restaurant, watching through the window, needing a couple more seconds before she submits herself to the assault of them all again. She still hasn’t replied to either Fenrys or Manon and the thought presses on her like lead but it’s too late to change that now.
If she’s honest she’s concerning herself with Fenrys and Manon in the hopes of distracting herself from the fact that she’s seconds away from Rowan. Seconds away from him in the flesh, his solid body in front of her that she had learned almost as well as her own.
Her palms are clammy and she wipes them against the fabric of her trousers. The upcoming interviews and photoshoots will all be styled for her and so she’s relishing in her last moments for a while of truly dressing like Aelin.
She takes a step towards the restaurant door, the tip of her trainer bumping the wood when a voice sounds behind her.
“Well, hello there, Stranger.”
Aelin braces herself, hand paused outstretched where it had been reaching for the door.
She turns, biting her lip as she faces Fenrys. He looks the same as he did, skin still golden, eyes still dancing with mischief, but his golden curls are trimmed shorter than the last time she saw him. His expression is carefully blank.
“I- Hi… um,” she stumbles over the words. “I’ve missed you.”
Fenrys breaks almost immediately. “Oh thank the fucking gods.”
He surges forwards and wraps her into a tight hug. Aelin clings to him, fighting the tears in her eyes as she buries her face in his chest. She’s gone far too long without this, without him, and it’s all her own fault.
“Do you have any idea how much I missed you?” Fenrys asks. “Oh wait, no you don’t. I’m assuming your phone broke, or was stolen or something since you never replied to any of my texts letting you know.”
Aelin knows her cheeks are stained pink. “I’m sorry,” she admits.
“I know.” His voice softens, losing the teasing edge as he presses a gentle kiss to her cheek.
He pauses before he speaks again, his eyes running over her face. “You could have texted me anytime, you know. Manon too. I know you might forget or try to convince yourself otherwise, but we are your friends. You could have called us about literally anything.”
Aelin feels like she could cry. She’s not sure that she isn’t.
“It doesn’t have to be about anything serious, especially not related to the movie,” or Rowan he doesn’t say but Aelin hears it. “We just wanted to hear your stupid voice.”
Aelin pouts. “My voice isn’t stupid.”
She pokes her tongue out as he rolls his eyes, easily falling back into the dynamic they had shaped a few months ago.
“Not what I meant,” he says before pausing, taking her in as she stands in front of him. “You can’t lose us that easily, you know. We’re like rats or fleas or something. Hard to get rid of.”
“Nice,” she comments, but her chest is tight at his words.
He smiles at her before adding, “and you had fucking better text me back.”
Aelin laughs through the sniffles he’s kindly ignoring. She pulls her phone out of her pocket and finds his contact. Hi she sends and feels his phone buzz against her.
“Much better,” he says and releases her from his arms. “Now, are you ready for a night of the finest dining all on the studio credit card?”
Aelin laughs again. “Lead the way.”
He shoots her a wink and waltzes ahead to hold the door open for her.
Fenrys’ presence shouldn’t reassure her the way it does, especially after the way she has treated him but she clings to him anyway. He’s her buffer for now, a crutch for tonight and tonight only. Once tonight is over and tomorrow begins she and Rowan can be professional, they managed it for months during filming and this should be no different.
Rowan still looks the way he did the night she broke his heart.
His silver hair falls elegantly over his forehead as he bends his head to talk to Manon, the pair of them are engrossed in a conversation as she and Fenrys walk over, not spotting them yet. She loves his hair, loves the thick silver waves and the way they feel between her fingers. She loves the way any attempt he makes to arrange the thick strands is never quite able to tame the beast. She loves the shirt he has on, with the sleeves rolled up exposing inches of tanned skin and dark ink, the same worn green cotton she wore numerous times around his living room all those months ago. She can still remember the feel of it against her bare skin.
His smile is the same, his green eyes crinkling as his lips barely part as he does his best to hold it back.
His smile is the same until he spots her.
He catches sight of her when she reaches the table and his smile drops, the shutters closing over his expression so fast she wouldn’t know he knew how to smile had she not just seen it.
It tears her chest in two and any attempt at a smile on her part is futile. It’s all she can do to make it to her seat without stumbling and she’s sure she misses any other greetings she gets as she slumps onto the chair opposite Manon. She absently notes Fenrys dropping in at her side.
She can’t look away from Rowan, her eyes scanning to try and find anything that distinguishes him from the man she loved all those months ago. She finds nothing. He’s still Rowan and Aelin still… fuck.
He recovers before she does, ever the collected courtier, clearing his throat and nodding.
“Aelin,” he says and she adores the sound of her name on his tongue.
“Hi Rowan,” she manages and hears how weak she sounds. Rowan hears it too. She can tell from the purse of his lips and the tension in the hand he rests along the back of Manon’s chair.
Aelin allows her eyes to drift to Manon and she finally catches the thunderous expression the younger girl wears.
“Hi,” she whispers and Manon blinks.
“Hi?” Manon repeats incredulously.
Aelin is fucked.
“Five months and I get a hi?”
It’s loud and a few heads turn their way. It’s simultaneously mortifying and everything Aelin deserves.
“I’m sorry,” she says plainly.
She could lie, make up some useless excuses but in the end there’s nothing else but the truth and if Manon wants her to grovel she will, she’s just not sure this is the time or place.
Fenrys shares her thoughts. “Later, Manon,” he says, gently.
Rowan’s eyes stay firmly glued to the tablecloth as Manon frowns, seemingly unwilling to let it go.
After a few seconds, seconds Aelin spends waiting for the ground to open up and swallow her, Manon nods. She nods and turns to Fenrys, demanding to know what he’s ordering. And just like that Aelin has a moment to catch her breath.
She knew this dinner wouldn’t be easy, knew she’d be walking into the lion's den of her own making, but she hadn’t expected it to be as hard. Hadn’t expected seeing Rowan to feel like a slap, hadn’t expected Manon’s hurt to scrape across her skin leaving her raw.
She tries not to think she deserves it, Maeve would only raise a brow as if to say we’ve been over this. The thought is sobering, and she manages to lift her head.
It is what it is, what’s done is done and she can only apologise and move forwards.
As much as she tries to resist, Aelin finds herself watching Rowan throughout the night. It’s scary how familiar he feels, he should feel like a stranger, but he feels like she knows him too well. He laughs when she expects, rolls his eyes when she predicts. He orders what she thought he would and he sips away at an orange juice the way he did the first dinner they all had together.
Aelin already feels so different than she did the last time she was in Rifthold and he seems unchanged.
She observes for most of the night, feeling drained despite her minimal contributions to the conversations. She speaks when spoken to and actively avoids speaking when Rowan does, she definitely doesn’t respond to anything he says even though she wants to at least twice and wants to laugh a couple more.
She makes it through and clings to Fenrys again as they all leave, linking her arm through his as they leave the restaurant. He knows what she’s doing but graciously guides her out of the building. Once on the pavement outside the restaurant he pauses and turns to her.
“What hotel are you staying in while you’re here?”
The rest of the group are milling about, calling taxis and bidding their farewells. Aelin doesn’t know how she’s getting back yet, she’s assuming she’ll split a ride with someone.
“Um, the Glass Castle, I think,” she says, desperately trying to recall the name of the hotel she dumped her bags in a few hours earlier.
“Boo,” Fenrys laughs, pointing his thumb down. “They’ve got me in the Torre Cesme. Think I’m ages away from you.”
Aelin laughs, disappointed but ready to order her own taxi back when a voice she didn’t expect sounds.
“I’ve just ordered a cab to the Glass Castle, I’m staying there too. You can jump in if you want.”
Rowan.
She shoots Fenrys a panicked look but his expression is pure glee.
“That would be great thanks, Boss,” Fenrys says, shrugging his arm out of hers and nudging her towards Rowan.
“No problem, Boyo.” Rowan offers Fenrys a dark grin at the nickname and the sight of it stills her. It’s new, he used to roll his eyes whenever Fenrys would drop it into conversation, but now Rowan’s playing along. And the grin, the curl of the lips and the narrowing of the eyes, it’s sexy as fuck.
It’s only taken one night and she’s back in the danger zone. She doesn’t want to be, hell, she wants him to take her back to his hotel room and peel off her clothes but this is Rowan. She’s spent the last few months trying to get over him, falling into bed with him the first night she sees him again would not likely be defined as progress.
He’s also not likely to want that after what she did.
“You don’t have to,” she says. The first direct thing she’s said to him since their greeting.
“I know.” A slight shrug of his broad shoulders. “But we’re going to the same place, it wouldn’t seem logical to take different cars.”
Logic. That’s all it is.
“Right.” She doesn’t think she’s ever felt so awkward with him, not even at the start. “Thank you,” she says, following him to the car.
Fenrys shoots her a grin as he slips into his own taxi. Traitor.
Rowan holds the door open for her and slips in behind her. She tries not to think anything of the fact he could have easily taken the front seat.
The ride is silent apart from the easy chit chat he makes with the driver, another thing she’s not sure she noticed him do before, and she stares out the window as the city passes by. The streets of Rifthold are not her home but she feels a brightness as she glances down the curving roads, spotting groups of people milling about enjoying the night.
She knows the first call she made to Elide in weeks was the right call. Elide is the only person she’d trust with her bank account and access to real estate listings. The link to the flat her friend had sent over has stayed open in her browser since she got it.
It’s modern with classic twists, situated in a recently renovated old warehouse with miles of exposed brick and rustic wooden panelling. She loves the master bedroom the most, with its adjoining en suite with a huge bathtub she can picture herself soaking in. She has a viewing booked in two days but doubts she’ll even need it.
It’s not long before the taxi pulls up outside the hotel and she follows Rowan through the glass doors. He presses the button for the lifts and Aelin shifts in the awkward silence.
Awkward is not something she’s used to with Rowan. Or it wasn’t before.
The doors slide open and again she follows him inside.
He pauses with a hand hovering over the buttons for the floors. “Which floor?”
“Nine.”
Aelin hates these one word exchanges compared to the hours they used to share talking about everything and nothing. She can’t believe this is the man she was so vulnerable with.
His short huff of laughter drags her gaze to his face.
“What?”
“Makes sense,” is what he says, shaking his head and pressing only the button for the ninth floor.
The ride takes seconds, a minute at most, filled with the silence between them.
When the doors open to the ninth floor she steps out, determined not to follow him again, and she feels him follow her. Even now she’s so aware of his powerful body and the way he moves it. She shouldn’t be so attracted to the power emanating from him, from the breadth of his shoulders to the sureness of his steps. She wants him, doesn’t think she ever stopped, except now he’s the forbidden fruit. Forbidden only by her own actions.
She reaches her door, room 905, but pauses with her key tucked in her hand.
“Thanks for letting me share your cab,” she says, finding herself desperate not to say goodbye yet. “I can transfer you for half.”
That finally, finally, cracks a whisper of a smile but she’s not sure she enjoys his laughter if it’s at her. “Don’t worry about it.”
That should be the end of it, she should open her door and shut it behind her, they have a few weeks ahead of them that will be hard enough without any complications.
She left him and he seems gracious enough to have mostly moved past it.
“It was good to see you, Aelin,” he says, seemingly unwilling to let the night end as well. She doesn’t let the seed of hope sprout because what would be the point?
Nevertheless, Aelin smiles, leaning back against her door.
Rowan continues, “even if I wasn’t sure how the night was going to go.”
Her attention is spiked. “What do you mean?”
She can’t lie, a part of her expects him to back down at the edge to her voice. He doesn’t.
“I wasn’t sure if you were going to pretend nothing ever happened between us.”
She blinks, giving herself a second to process.
Maybe this isn’t the same Rowan from all those months ago. That night he let her walk away from him, gods know she needed it, but a dark little part of her had wanted him to fight her harder. Fight harder for her. When he hadn’t she’d taken it as her sign.
She knows the expectation was toxic, if he had fought her it would have only pissed her off, but she wishes she’d had someone to tell her it was the wrong choice. It would have helped to hear in the moment, rather than be faced with Rowan months down the line that she wants and can’t have.
The Rowan in front of her, the third Rowan she’s known, stares her down. His eyes peel away each of the layers she’s worked with Maeve for months to don in a second.
“I wouldn’t do that to you.”
It’s honest and maybe she’s not the same Aelin as a few months ago either.
That’s what she had asked for that night in the cool air, to move past them with as little commotion as possible, stirring up as little attention as they could. She hadn’t wanted to let them eclipse the movie and yet that ended up being exactly what she had accomplished.
Now though, Aelin knows better.
Rowan nods as his eyes dart across her face. He seems to step closer without realising. Aelin notes the motion, still so aware of him and his proximity to her.
His tongue darts out to wet his lower lip. “I was so angry at you for leaving.”
Aelin loses her breath at his confession.
Eventually she manages, “was?”
He looks away from her, glancing down the dark hallway, his jaw tight. When she’s with him she forgets about the world around them, there’s probably-definitely-CCTV in this hallway but he’s here and she can’t let him go yet.
His fists curl and uncurl as he takes a deep breath.
“Was,” he says shortly. “I was so angry at you, the way you did what you did was shit.”
Aelin swallows. He’s not wrong.
“I know.”
“But now I don’t know.” She lifts her eyes to his, swimming in the openness she doesn’t deserve. And fuck that. That is such bullshit. She meets his stare, returning all that he isn’t saying. “I spent a long time thinking about it, thinking about you, and it took me a while but now I get it.”
That hurts more than she expects. She didn’t expect him to be all over her the minute they reunited but his understanding was always a kicker.
“I know why you did it,” he continues. “And that took most of the wind out of my sails.”
Aelin frowns. He can’t possibly know why.
“I don’t think you do.” He tilts his head, an invitation for her to expand. “Or you’d know that nothing has changed.”
“Hasn’t it?”
His question throws her. Completely.
She tilts her head up to look at him, closer to her than he’s been all night, pushing her to keep being honest with him.
She’s dazed being this close to him again after so long, the green of his eyes stronger than she remembers. Or maybe her brain had assured her the memory of him couldn’t have been real.
“I don’t know,” she admits, unable to fight the way her body leans into him.
His teeth graze his lower lip and she follows the motion.
He’s silent for a beat too long and her skin is thrumming under his attention. She doesn’t know how she’s gone this long without him, she doesn’t know how she thought she’d survive never having him again.
“Let me know when you figure it out,” he says finally, drawing back and a rush of cool air fills the space he had taken. “Goodnight Aelin.”
He turns and she watches his back down the hallway. He slips easily into a room a few doors down and she’s left watching the path he’d taken, feeling the weight of his eyes on her lips.
Her head thuds against the door as she screws her eyes shut. She wants to scream, wants to chase him down the hall, wants to fly back to Orynth where she was safe.
She doesn’t do any of those things.
She tucks herself into her hotel room and readies herself for the whirlwind that’s about to hit. These next few weeks are going to be hard, not just dealing with the Rowan situation, but she can’t fight the excitement she feels.
Fuck. She’s back in Rifthold, back where she loves, doing what she was born to do.
This is big. She can feel it.
The Crescent City is not her first project, and so she’s been a part of press cycles before, she knows how they go. What she doesn’t know is how a press cycle for something like this works.
The only word she can find is insanity.
There are somehow earlier mornings than they had while shooting and often longer days. She gets poked and prodded in hair and make-up for hours before they spend all day sat in a hotel room filming repetitive interviews for various magazines.
She and Fenrys are genuinely friends and yet they still have to put on a show in front of the cameras. She plays up her laughter when he cracks a joke and he makes sure to never look away from her for longer than two seconds when she speaks or a producer behind the camera makes a comment.
She loves Fenrys but it’s exhausting. Her only blessing is that for most of her engagements she’s with Fenrys and Manon with Rowan conducting his own interviews separately as she had hoped.
Sometimes though, given their relatively similar ages and general level of chemistry, they get grouped together.
The four of them are filming a video for Buzzfeed, filling in a quiz to find out which character from The Crescent City they’re most like. She’s unsurprised to discover her result is Rhysand and it’s fun even if her heart does pound every time she has to act like she’s unfazed and friendly with Rowan.
There’s a moment, just a moment, where she almost breaks from her friendly and unbothered interview persona. It’s her turn to read the question, what item could you not survive without on a desert island?
It’s Rowan that speaks. “Her shampoo,” he says, “it’s jasmine.”
There’s a split second where she doesn’t speak, where all she can do is stare at Rowan, stunned that he remembered and thought to mention it now.
In that split second she’s transported back to memories of them together in the shower at her rented apartment, kissing lazily under the spray after spending hours between her sheets. She remembers dumping the shampoo into her hand and then onto his head, massaging his thick locks and surrounding them in the scent of jasmine.
She remembers how he kissed her neck as she did, trailing his hands over her silky curves, slick with the soap, with his kisses building in heat until her hands dropped to his shoulders. He’d lavished kisses down her chest until he’d jerked back, shampoo in his eyes and she’d laughed until he was safe and pressed his lips again to hers, continuing where he’d left off.
She’s shocked he’d bring this up when there’s a camera on the two of them and she can only imagine the comments it will spark. She’s not sure she cares if it keeps Rowan’s eyes on her.
“It’s luxurious for a reason,” she says when she recovers, tossing her thick locks over her shoulder. “Well worth it.”
She doesn’t miss the flicker in his own mask at her comment.
That kind of interaction will no doubt ignite the sparks she’d only ever wanted to avoid.
As the press cycle goes on and on, and they get closer and closer to the premiere it only becomes harder for her conviction to hold.
She tests her own argument, the clear line she drew in the sand, when she manages to keep it professional with Rowan and she’s not sure where that leaves her. She had thought they would overshadow everything about the project and now she’s not sure.
She said nothing had changed and he had challenged her.
She’s still not sure who’s in the right.
Everything is simultaneously completely new and exactly the same. Rowan is still gorgeous, still charming in his own reserved way, still almost reverent when he talks about his craft throughout interviews. He still talks with his hands and Aelin still can’t draw her eyes away from their motions, she still craves the touch of them on her skin. He’s still seven years older than her and the director of her big break.
Yet there are differences.
They’re still often on the same page, offering similar answers and backing each other up but now he never backs down from a challenge. Now he doesn’t hold back those comments she knows he was always dying to let slip. She should be annoyed, everytime he drops a line that pushes her to expand a little part of her wants to roll her eyes.
She doesn’t though. Her blood heats and her skin prickles. She loves this with him. Loves the dance they play, the teasing, verbal games that shouldn’t start her off but do. She loves the smirk he wears when they end up down that path, and she knows she wears it’s mirror image.
She always ends up squirming in her seat and it should be wrong but it isn’t. The cameras can’t see below their chests and the flush in her cheeks could easily be from the warmth of the day.
She’s beginning to wonder if she’s powerless against Rowan Whitethorn. If she’s powerless against the green of his eyes or the curl of his accent. The slant of his brows or the points of his teeth when he smiles.
She doesn’t know that it’s just one thing. It’s all of the things, it’s all of him, and more so than ever she’s completely fucked.
But they aren’t talking outside of the interviews and photoshoots, and the knowledge of which hotel room is his itches her toes every night. It would be so easy to sneak down the hall, to knock on the door and slot her lips to his when he opened.
It’s only a couple of nights before the premiere when the temptation becomes too much. She’s been around Rowan all day, surrounded by the smell of his aftershave, the notes of pine and freshness and Rowan and it’s too much. She strides down the hallway, resolved in her decision and closes her fingers over the button for the lift.
She needs to be elsewhere or she’ll make some bad decisions.
She’s come so far, survived months without him, she can’t cave due to proximity.
The hotel bar is deserted when she walks in and makes a beeline to the bartender. Yeah, maybe after her wobble at the wrap party a bar isn’t the best decision she could make but her options are limited. Trying to sleep with Rowan is, after all, probably the worst of both options.
“Just a sparkling water please,” she says to the barman who nods and returns a moment later.
“Put it on my tab.” A voice from the end of the bar.
A laugh bubbles out of her chest as she closes her fingers around her glass. Of course he’s here. She should have spotted Rowan the minute she walked in and it’s cruel that the reason she didn’t was that her thoughts were too wrapped up in him.
“Be careful what you sign up for,” she says as she walks over, her steps measured as she comes to a stop before him. Her hips swing of their own accord and his eyes dart up and down the length of her. “I can put a number of these away.”
The smile he gives her is surprisingly unguarded. It seems he’s done holding himself back too. Aelin loves it.
“I don’t doubt it,” he says, nodding at the stool next to him. She obliges as he speaks again. “It’s hard to switch off sometimes.”
He’s always on the same page as she is. Aelin shrugs, taking a sip of the drink he bought her.
They’re quiet for a moment, both unsure of how to break the silence between them when one of the last things they knew was the taste of each other’s lips.
“I keep thinking I’ll get used to it, that one day this will just be my job, but I never do,” Aelin says eventually, tracing a fingertip through the condensation gathered on her glass.
Rowan nods, smiling softly down at the bar and taking a sip of his own drink. An orange juice as usual.
“It’s hard to sleep at the end of days like today,” he says. “It’s why I’m in here.”
The bar is dark at the late hour, and quiet with no one else in there but them and the bartender. There’s something about the late hour, the darkness and the stillness surrounding them a break from the recent rush, that feels a little bit too close. She feels a little too exposed under the weight of his gaze but she rolls her shoulders back and leans an elbow on the bar as she turns towards him.
“I thought you’d be used to all of this by now,” she says and he cocks his head.
“Why?” His question is coy, begging her to expand.
“This is not your first rodeo and all of that,” she says with a smile.
Rowan laughs softly, the sound curving around her like an embrace.
“It can still be overwhelming after your first big movie,” he says gently, but with an edge to his voice that she needs to immediately get rid of.
“I don’t doubt that,” is what she whispers and his brow seems to soften, sensing her lack of malice.
She hates the way they’re in the position where he assumes the worst of her. She has to make that change.
“I don’t think if I get to do this for the rest of my life that it would ever feel normal.”
“No,” Rowan agrees, “I don’t think it could.”
“So then we need this film to do well.” Aelin shifts on the stool, finding herself leaning closer to him without conscious thought. He doesn’t retreat. He stands his ground until they’re only inches apart. “Lest we find ourselves fading into obscurity.”
“I doubt you ever could,” he says with a laugh and it’s the best thing she’s ever heard.
As he looks at her, his expression soft in the dim light, his smile holds something special for her and her chest lifts that she managed it. That he was willing to give that to her.
“My agent sent over the initial critic reviews earlier,” he says and her stomach plummets.
“And?” she demands, her voice wobbling slightly. Her confidence from a minute ago vanished.
This is the moment where she could sink, the moment this could all be over.
“And they’re good,” he almost whispers.
“Good,” she repeats and it’s not a question but he nods.
She wants to throw herself at him at the news, a couple of months ago she wouldn’t have even hesitated, but now she sits clenching her fists and trying not to smile too wide. It feels like a waste. She’ll never get this feeling again.
She turns to him and he’s smiling so she does what she’s wanted to for months. Aelin leans forwards and wraps an arm over his shoulders, pressing her chest to his.
His arms slip up slowly over her shoulders at first, unsure but gaining confidence as he tightens his grip around her, drawing her further into his chest. Aelin laughs a little, throwing her other arm around him and resting her face against his shoulder.
It’s not enough, it never could be with him, but it will do. She’s just happy he didn’t push her away.
Eventually, after a length of time that feels far too short, she pulls back to see him gazing down at her with an expression she can’t name. His brows are drawn in with his lips gently parted. He’s happy but apprehensive, open but distant. Aelin will take what she can and the distance between them has always been too far.
She wants nothing more than to close it, to draw herself into him and he into her, but she can’t. They’re here for one thing and one thing only and she refuses after what they’ve been through to mess it up again.
She knows he can read her own expression but she doesn’t care. She’ll hide from everyone and anyone but she’s realising she could never hide from him.
She wants Rowan, will probably want him for the rest of her life, but she made the call and he’s wrong, things haven’t changed.
Apart from all of the things that have.
The day of the premiere Aelin feels sick.
Her stomach twists and she tosses and turns all night and the dark circles under her eyes are brutal as a result. Her make-up artist tuts but diligently packs concealer on until Aelin looks well rested. Or as close as she can.
She’s trying not to think of the stretch of carpet she’ll have to walk tonight, a smile plastered across her face as she poses for the hundreds of cameras. Their premiere is one of the biggest of the season and, along with Fenrys, she’s the star.
She’ll have nowhere to hide.
Aelin sits in front of her mirror, her hair and make-up are done but she’s yet to get dressed. She takes herself in, making sure to note every strand of hair to every line of her lips, feeling as though she needs to remember this moment. The moment before it all explodes.
They’ve been building to this for almost a year now and this is as close to a culmination as she’ll get.
Her dress is something fierce. Endless, flowing velvet in the darkest shade of black. Long sleeves and a fitted bodice with an almost indecent dip in the back. The dress would be modest without that cut out, she can’t wear any underwear it dips so low.
It would be a simple dress, some might even dare to say boring, if it weren’t for the back. The majority of the fabric that remains is covered in gold embroidery taking the form of a dragon, coiled to strike. Aelin adored the dress the moment her stylist revealed it to her. She didn’t consider any of the other dresses, didn’t even acknowledge them as options.
The dress is what she needs, something strong, something to help her hold her head up high. She can walk the red carpet and stare down every single person who doubted her and know that they were wrong.
Aelin doesn’t need their approval. She doesn’t need the reassurance of faceless commenters, she doesn’t need the support of the magazines and the newspapers. She doesn’t need her mother’s approval. On anything.
Aelin is confident and self-assured and she can walk the red carpet knowing that.
Her sessions with Maeve have helped to reassure her stance, but she’s realising day by day she’s known it all along. It’s just taken a little bit of digging to uncover it.
She slips into her dress and it slides on like a second skin. She takes in her appearance, the arch of her brow and the red smirk of her lips makes her look intriguing, like a confident young woman.
Aelin was born to be an actress but she’s proud to say the sight in the mirror is real.
She poses for a few photos before she’s led out of her room and into the car, waiting to take her to the theatre.
She spends the ride in silence, barely listening to the jabbering of the aide in the car with her, and she focuses her thoughts on the calm before the storm. She takes deep breaths and centres herself the way Maeve has taught, she knows this could so easily be overwhelming but she’s determined to enjoy it.
The car stills and she can hear the noise of the crowd outside. She takes a final deep breath and allows her lips to spread into a smile. This one is genuine, nothing forced about it, and she pauses for one last beat.
This is big and Aelin is ready.
The car door opens and the sound hits her like a wave, slamming down onto her and it's so loud she can hardly think.
This is it. This is the moment she has dreamed of.
The nights where this image was all she could cling to to make it through could never have compared to how it feels standing here now, screams of her own name wrapping around her and urging her on.
Her steps are slow and purposeful as she glides down the path forged for her, the red carpet beneath her stilettos is plush and bright. She pauses where she’s instructed, rolling her shoulders back and smirking at the cameras with a hand on her hip.
She knows she looks incredible and the shouts of the photographers do nothing to change her mind. They are here for her, they’re all here for what she has accomplished, along with Fenrys, Manon, Chaol and Rowan and everyone else involved.
There are so many forces upon her, the flashing of the lights, the screams and shouts calling her name or Fenrys’, the magnitude of what this is could knock down a lesser individual but all it does is raise Aelin up.
She’s been through worse than this and survived, she’ll stare down the lense of all of these cameras, of everyone who has ever spoken her name and she won’t cower, she won’t just survive. She’ll thrive.
A warm hand lands on her waist and somehow the flashes of the cameras explode.
“Hey, golden girl.” Fenrys’ words are almost hard to hear even though his lips brush her ear. “Fancy seeing you here.”
Aelin wraps her arm around his back and grins, “I thought I’d at least show my face.”
He returns her smile and together they pose for the cameras, their shoulders back and smiles confident. She’s not sure this could be better.
Until she turns slightly to her left and gets flashes of silver where she and Fenrys are gold.
Rowan and Manon, posing for their own pictures mere metres away. He looks spectacular, the deep black of his tuxedo doing nothing but bringing out the depth of his tan and the shine of his silver hair.
He’s smiling his public smile and it’s gorgeous even though it’s not her favourite of his smiles, she loves the private ones he used to save just for her, and her own smile falters at the sight.
She’s here with Fenrys and it’s not wrong but it doesn’t feel right. The arm around her waist shouldn’t belong to Fenrys.
She should be where Manon is, smiling up at Rowan while they marvel at what they’ve accomplished. She knows her smile has dropped and she fumbles for anything to plaster onto her expression other than the longing she feels for Rowan.
As if she’d called his name he turns to her, green colliding with blue, and she knows he feels the same.
And that hurts far more than all of the months they spent apart.
All the months she spent hurting, trying to deny what she always knew, trying to pretend that they were anything other than a force of nature. They had been an eclipse, threatening to over take all of this but she was wrong. Rowan was wrong too.
It doesn’t matter whether everything or nothing has changed because she wasn’t right in the first place.
She should have known better than to think that whatever flimsy decision she made could halt what they were, what they should be.
She can only hope he forgives her. She can only hope he feels the same.
But the thing about this new Rowan is that she can’t read him the way she used to read her Rowan, she can’t tell if the way he steels himself and turns away from her is a dismissal or if the look they shared had been just as painful for him as it had been for her.
“A masterpiece.” - Rifthold Reporter
“Fenrys Moonbeam shines alongside Aelin Ashryver in The Crescent City. See our full review here.” - Wyrd Stone
“Latest Rowan Whitethorn flick smashes Box Office records.” - Valg Weekly
“Unapologetic, daring and thought provoking. Award nominations expected to follow for The Crescent City.” - Terrasen Tribune
Her phone has not stopped buzzing for the past four days.
Dorian texts every waking hour with the updates he gets, the numbers coming in and all her latest offers. It’s surreal. She knew they were good but she’s not sure she ever really expected this. Aedion texts her a picture every time he sees or hears her name, it should be terrifying the frequency with which he texts her but she has to fight back her smile each time he does.
She managed to find an hour the night before to call Lysandra and the majority of their call had consisted of Aelin repeatedly asking what the fuck was happening while Lysandra cackled down the phone.
She’d even got a text from Lorcan. It was alright, he’d written. Followed by, I hope I die before ever having to watch you make out with someone like that again.
She’d sent three middle finger emojis and a kissy face in response.
Now is probably not the best time to move to a different country but she’d signed her name on the papers two days before the premiere and Rifthold is calling, irrespective of the fact she’s only been back in Orynth for two days.
Most of her stuff headed out yesterday with the moving company leaving Aelin with two suitcases to fly back to Rifthold with tomorrow.
There’s one last place she needs to go before she heads back to finally get a good night's sleep before her flight tomorrow. She’s never set foot in this graveyard before, she’s never had the courage to dare before, but she’s emboldened. By the success of the movie, by her progress in the past year, by her sessions with Maeve. This has felt like a natural step.
The shining, black headstone is understated and classy and completely to his taste.
Sam Cortland. Beloved son and brother, taken far too soon.
Aelin waits with her head bowed, allowing all of her emotions to rush through her veins. She doesn’t fight them, it would be pointless to try, and she embraces the tears that gather. Eventually she steps forwards, placing the smooth, small stone on the crest of the headstone.
She rests her hand on the cool stone for a moment before sinking down and crossing her legs beneath her as she leans against it.
“I’ve missed you,” she says aloud, “I can almost hear you telling me to stop being such a sappy shit. I can’t help it, it’s been too long since I’ve seen you.”
She pauses, letting the wind drift through the field sweeping her words away.
There’s no one else here but her and Sam, no one else she’d want to hear her confession.
“I wonder what you would have made of all this. I think you’d tell me to enjoy it all, to not miss a moment, and I’m not. I’m just choosing the ones I want to savour. And this is one of them, Sam. I wish you’d been there with me, you would have loved it, the cameras, the lights, everything.
“I have to keep pinching myself to know it’s real, I did it, and I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to come and see you.”
She sighs, letting her head tip back to rest against the stone. She didn’t prepare anything to say, didn’t realise she’d even want to speak to the open air but here she is.
“I’m not the same Aelin as the girl you knew anymore,” she says after a few moments of silence. “I didn’t think I would have the capacity to love again after you but I did, and I feel terribly guilty that I do. I have to remind myself that this is what you would have wanted, you would have wanted me to be happy.”
The silence in the field is more than an answer enough. So typically Sam to give her an answer without so much as speaking a word.
“I was happy,” she says, trailing a fingertip along the words etched into the stone. “I will be again.”
A faint haze of sunlight drifts through the Orynth autumn clouds, a whisper compared to the chorus of brightness she misses in Rifthold, and she stands, brushing off the dirt from her jeans. She touches the stone one last time before turning and heading out of the graveyard.
Her visit was years overdue but her chest didn’t crack open the way she had expected, the tears hadn’t been relentless the way she had expected. She’ll visit him again the next time she’s back in Orynth, probably visiting Elide and Lorcan for Yulemass, and she’ll visit again and again for as long as she lives.
But for now, she has a plane to catch.
Months later and two days before the Oscars, when they’re all back in town for the ceremony held in her new home city of Rifthold, Fenrys throws another party.
She’s managed, this time, to stay in touch with Fenrys and Manon, having made up with the younger girl before the press cycle had finished. Aelin knows her upset was real but partly suspects the animosity was a front. She even finds herself participating in the group chat with the three of them and Rowan. She’s only texted him one to one once to wish him a happy birthday and they had caught up briefly but not texted since.
She’s missed him in a different way to the last time she missed him. This time missing him doesn’t feel necessary, it feels wrong not to text him, wrong to be away from him and she’s itching to see him again.
It’s no one's birthday this time but they’re all together again to celebrate, no matter the results they’ll see in two days. Aelin is very carefully measuring her excitement about her own nomination for best actress. Fenrys is up for best actor, Rowan best director and the movie best picture.
She’d almost dropped her phone in the toilet when she found out from Dorian a few weeks ago.
The party is small but still in full swing by the time she arrives. Big names from the industry, all in town for the ceremony, are scattered all around Fenrys’ Rifthold apartment. He’d bought a place here not long after Aelin and she’s secretly relieved she’s not the only one so moved by their experience.
She waves to a few people she knows and tries to stay calm when she spots Sartaq Khagan in the corner chatting away to a small group of people. Holy shit Fenrys has some famous friends.
Aelin finds herself a glass, tops her orange juice off with a splash of lemonade and begins her rounds. So many more people want to talk to her after the movie dropped.
Her mother had been one of them, and Aelin’s thumb had hovered over the accept button for a moment before decidedly pressing decline. She had blocked her mother’s number a moment later, and then she had made some calls closing the bank account her mother kept topped up and arranging for every penny she’d ever received from Evalin Ashryver to be paid back.
It had hurt, emotionally and financially, especially in the month she’d moved to Rifthold, but it had been worth it. To never let Evalin pass any judgement over her life again was a relief worth any cost. Aelin’s hoping there’s a possibility she could end up with a reward.
She doesn’t know how long she spends talking to big name after big name and it’s a realisation that drops onto her that she fits in here. Aelin Ashryver is a big name. No matter the outcome of the ceremony she has prospects, already a number of projects lined up and she’s loving every minute of it.
She drains her cup for the third time tonight and heads back into the kitchen. She’s barely seen Fenrys all night, and she doesn’t even know if Manon is here.
She frowns into the fridge, there was definitely a full bottle of orange juice in here the last time she topped herself up. She shuts the fridge and spins around.
“Looking for this?”
She should have known.
Rowan looks predictably gorgeous in the dim kitchen lighting. All tanned skin and silver smiles. He’s dressed in her favourite look of his too, worn denim jeans and a soft cotton shirt.
It’s the softness in his gaze that really takes her though, it seems the animosity from the last time they saw each other has faded if not disappeared. Her chest squeezes at the thought. She has no idea what could have triggered it but she will take it.
“Nope,” she says, stepping over to where he stands with an arm braced against the counter at his side, the other holding out a bottle of orange juice. “I was hoping Fenrys would have some chocolate in there but I guess this will have to do.”
She takes the bottle from him, her fingertips brushing his and she feels her cheeks heat at the innocent brush.
His smile is genuine and she knows what he’s remembering because she’s thinking of it too. The first time she visited his house during filming and their moment in the kitchen. They’ve been through cycles, she supposes, but hopefully now for the better.
“I’m sure we can find you some somewhere in here,” he says as she fills her cup, pulling open the cupboard next to his head.
Aelin smirks. “I’m going to leave the rummaging through Fenrys’ cupboards to you. You could find anything in there.”
Rowan winces, closing the door before returning her smile. This is friendly and the hope that’s been planted in her chest begins to sprout.
“Yeah, maybe not,” he says with a conspiratorial smile. “We wouldn’t want to risk it.”
Aelin pauses for a moment, taking in the glory of him in front of her. He’s still Rowan, he’s still tall and deliciously broad. His silver hair is slightly more grown out and there are a couple more lines around his eyes but she doesn’t care, in fact it’s charming. He’s still and always will be stunning. She takes a sip of her drink before she takes one of her biggest risks so far.
“I’ve missed you,” she says, not daring to look away from his face.
He bites his lip, his tongue darting out to soothe the skin before he speaks. “I’ve missed you too.”
The smile that spreads across her face is all too telling but he’s smiling too so she doesn’t think it matters. He definitely feels the same and she’d be annoyed at the months she spent worrying but the relief is too sweet.
“Good,” is what she says, far too happy they’re here to bother with pretending she’s anything other than ecstatic. “Congrats on your nomination.”
His eyes dart to the floor and then back up at her, he’s too modest about his own skill and Aelin adores it. “Thank you,” he says softly, “you too.”
“Thanks,” she says. “I couldn’t have done it without you. All of you.”
“Me neither,” Rowan says.
He’s close to her now, closer than he has been to her for months and her skin cries out for contact. She almost can’t believe she’s here now, talking to Rowan without any animosity, days before the Oscars that she’s nominated in.
The smile that takes over her face is completely of its own accord. She’s floating and it seems Rowan is too if the beat they share, exchanging incredulous smiles, is anything to go by.
“It’s crazy, right?”
She’s been asking herself the question for so long it seems only natural it slips out to him.
He laughs softly, and the rough sound curls straight to her core.
“Definitely,” he agrees, his voice low. “I don’t think last time felt like this.”
Aelin slaps a gentle hand to his chest and ignores the thrill that shoots through her at the eventual contact. “I get it, this is not your first nomination.”
Rowan rolls his eyes and she didn’t know how much she missed this, playing with him. She adores his reaction every time, the begrudging amusement he only lets shine through to make her smile.
“Some of us have never been nominated before, this is all completely new.” Aelin takes a sip of her drink. “I had to give up my social media accounts to Elide, it got so crazy.”
Something flickers over Rowan’s face at her comment. “Really?”
“Yeah,” she says, her eyes darting across his face trying to decipher the expression. “She’s always had access and I still do so I can post if I want to but it just became a lot. It stopped being fun when I would see what people were saying, whether it was good or bad I don’t want to see it anymore.”
Rowan nods before his eyes lock onto hers, the intensity in his expression shreds her control.
“And you said nothing had changed?”
Aelin gets it now.
She shifts her weight, leaning as close to him as she can without sliding herself completely into the circle of his arms. “I was wrong. Lots of things have changed,” she says, her voice quiet but strong. “And lots of things are now right that weren’t before.”
She doesn’t mean to skirt around the truth, hiding in veiled words and double meanings, but as always, Rowan sees her. He sees her meaning and he smiles. It’s the most beautiful smile Aelin has ever seen him wear.
“I’ve been looking for you two.”
Fenrys bursts into the kitchen, startling Aelin back from Rowan. She hides her guilty smile in her drink and notices Rowan doing the same. Fenrys just grins, clearly enjoying whatever he thinks he’s seeing.
“You’re missing out, we’re playing kings in the living room if you want to join?”
Rowan glances at her before he turns back to Fenrys. “I think we’re good, thanks.”
Fenrys’ smile turns smug and Aelin resists the temptation to flip him off. She’s in too good of a mood to be annoyed at him.
“Okay, see you later, lovebirds,” Fenrys says, already on his way back out of the door.
Aelin pretends she isn’t blushing as she turns back to Rowan, his green eyes shining.
“This might sound crazy,” he says with an alluring tilt to his lips, “but do you want to get out of here?”
She’s reached a point she truly never thought she would.
She’s an Oscar-nominated lead actress in a box-office-record-breaking movie.
She’s happy, healthy and out from underneath the thumb of Evalin Ashryver.
The part that’s most uplifting, the part that has her unable to wipe the smile off her face as she strolls down the streets of Rifthold, is the arm she has tucked through Rowan’s.
They’ve been walking for a little while, enjoying the cool night air and the ease with which they managed to sneak out of Fenrys’ party. Her heels are killing her and Rowan very graciously offers her an arm to lean on and each time she takes a step in time with him she smiles.
“I never thought I’d like doing television,” he says.
She didn’t know he’d taken on a miniseries, similar to the one she’d done after filming, but she’s loving the recap she’s getting of the months they’ve been apart. The chill of the air is more than fought off by the warmth of Rowan by her side. The streets are mercifully empty and she can bask in the knowledge that it’s just the two of them out here, that they’re insignificant, that anyone who sees them will immediately dismiss them.
“I always thought I’d stick to movies, singular stories but I enjoyed it. I guess change can be good.”
Aelin laughs softly and squeezes his arm. He looks down to her, a question written in the slant of his brow.
“Change can definitely be good,” she says as she takes in the sights of the skyscrapers surrounding them. “I would know that I suppose.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. I bought a flat recently.”
“You did?”
He’s so graciously giving her the floor to say what she needs to say and she holds his arm even tighter.
“It’s right here in Rifthold.” Aelin avoids his gaze, lest he think it’s a speedy invitation and that that’s all this is. “I bought it just after we were back here for press, I realised that I adore Rifthold and being here. I missed it when I wasn’t here and I don’t feel there’s anything holding me in Orynth anymore.”
Rowan laughs softly, his feet scuffing the floor.
“What?” she demands.
“I swear I’m not following you,” he says and she feels a smile creep onto her face. “I bought a loft here too.”
Aelin gasps. “But your house was gorgeous!”
Rowan’s smile twists as he looks away from her. “I didn’t say I sold the house.”
Aelin cackles as she squeezes his arm, the sound joyous and bright as it echoes around them. “I knew being Mr Big-Name-Director has its perks.”
“It does,” he agrees with a smirk.
Aelin wants to kiss that smirk. Wants to pull him down and twist her fingers through his hair as his own tangle along her skin.
Instead she says, “I copied you somewhat too.”
He only raises a brow.
“I bought a piano like the one in your house. It was too big for my old flat in Orynth and so I knew what I had to do.”
“That’s good,” he says as his arm drops out of hers. She almost pouts until he instead tangles their fingers together. Her smile says it all, reflected back in his own. “You play beautifully.”
“Thank you.” Her cheeks are glowing. “You’ll have to come over and I’ll play for you sometime, neighbour.”
“I’d love to.”
Aelin slows, using the hand tangled with his to pull him to a stop too. Her free hand trails a gentle path up his chest before coming to rest at his collar, her fingertips tracing the golden skin peeking out from his shirt. His free hand finds her waist.
They’re close, closer than they have been in such a long time when he speaks.
“I don’t know what you think has or hasn’t changed.” His hand leaves hers to cup her cheek. “But I still feel the way I used to about you.”
Her heart takes off, pounding within her chest.
“I do too, Rowan.” Some of the easiest words she’s ever said to him. There’s something about the way the streetlights shine through the silver tips of his hair and the way his calloused fingers feel between hers that she’s feeling brave. “I loved you then and I love you now.”
His eyes flicker across her face as his smile dawns, taking over his face as he smiles so brightly. This is all she’s ever wanted, to have a Rowan like this, with pure, unfiltered happiness in his eyes as he looks at her.
“You love me?”
“I do. To whatever end.”
His lips are barely a whisper from hers and she only acknowledges the thought that they’re in public for long enough to realise she doesn’t care.
“And I love you.”
His words are simple, but sweet. They wash over her and settle into her skin as his lips land on hers. He kisses her with what she can only describe as love. His lips pour devotion onto her and his hands light a fire inside her as he tastes her tongue.
They kiss for longer than she can keep a track of, wrapped up together illuminated only by the street lighting. She’s missed this, missed him, and she can’t help but feel right when his hands are on her. She can’t help but feel right as she stretches onto her toes to throw herself into his kiss.
This was never wrong, this was one of the first things she knew was right.
She loves him and he loves her and nothing and nobody else matters.
She doesn’t win the Oscar, and neither does Rowan. Fenrys does and she screams herself hoarse cheering him on as he makes his way to the stage.
The moment that takes the cake is when The Crescent City takes best picture. She takes to the stage with some of her best friends to recognise what they achieved together and maybe she is a soppy shit but she definitely cries. Fenrys laughs at her and Manon grins but Rowan just throws his arm around her shoulders and it's worth it.
Afterwards, she logs into her Instagram account for the first time in a long time. She posts a picture of Rowan looking absolutely delicious with his tux unbuttoned and his bow tie hanging untied around his neck with a greasy burger in one hand and hers in his other.
Posting him is a statement but she doesn’t care. In fact, she wants the world to know. She wants the world to know that nobody does it like he does. Nobody does it like they do.
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Note
I was wondering if you could do a fic about Fatgum tickling Kirishima or Tamaki or maybe both? Love your fics by the way! They’re all so cute! 💖💖💖
They Went Beyond
Characters: Fat Gum, Red Riot (Ejiro Kirishima)
Fandom: My Hero Academia
A/N: My friend @kwaiibb and I came up with the headcannon of Kirishima's parents being divorced, but maintaining a really healthy friendship to co-parent their son while moving on with their love live as well. His mother remarried, his father is happily single though.
Description: While visiting one of his mentee's at the hospital following the events of season 4, Fat Gum start's to breakdown from guilt.
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Kirishima let out a soft sigh as he slowly opened his ruby, red eyes. Nope, still couldn’t sleep. The mummy had lost most of his wrapings but was still under the hospital’s watch to ensure his wounds were healing nicely. Honestly, he felt great! Maybe not in spirit but physically he felt good enough to pace around his room and honestly… go home to his mommy and mama. Seeing his dad would be nice too. The babe sighed as he stared blankly at the hospital celeing’s panels.
He’d already read his books, played his video games, and did other little things his friends and parents gave him to occupy his mind. Homework? Yeah Bakugou was probably going to kick his ass, but he just didn’t have him in it to do it right now. Besides, he didn’t understand some of it and could wait until the other visited again or his mama to help him. His step mother was an incredibly intelligent woman and would often help him when he was smaller; but Kirishima still liked to ask Bakugou as he could explain somethings a bit more simplistically and understandably to him than his math professor mother.
While drowning in thought, Ejiro had missed the gentle knock on his room door. From the doorway, a familiar face popped in. It was deflated, but one could still recognize the face to be that of the pro hero’s: Fat Gum! The mentor hesitantly took a step in the room, feeling a bit rude as he hadn’t been invited in. But this was his charge, damnit. This was one of the puppies he was training to become a hero and this…. this was all his fault. Kirishima and Tamaki were terribly injured due to his decision to bring them along.
He swallowed his guilt with a sigh before forcing himself to venture further into the room and shut the door behind him. They were pro heroes in the making, it was a good experience to have. Both are alive and he should be grateful for that, right? “Hey,” he said softly, seeing the boy in a trance-like, fixated state. Kirishima didn’t budge, mind still wandering in space. Fat Gum snorted before pulling up a chair and placing the small conventstore bag he had picked up along the way on it. “How ya holding up, mummy?” Fat Gum’s weight on the bed brought the young man out of his thoughts with a start. “Shoot,” Ejiro sighed, earning a laugh. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” the other said comfortingly before gently bumping the kid’s arm as he sat up. “Nah, you're fine. Just… thinking about stuff.”
“I could tell,” Fat Gum hummed before reaching for the bag and opening it. “So, whatcha in the mood for? Got some packaged mochi, some meat chews, what else, what else,” he muttered as he started laying out various goods on the boy’s blanket-covered lap. Kirishima smiled with a small snort as he gently picked up the mild-flavored meat chews. “Thanks,” he said tiredly. He offered a warming smile, only to be met with watering eyes.
Ruby red eyes widened in panic. “Huh? I-If you want the meat chews you can have them man!” Fat Gum sniffled as he shook his head, bagging the other goods again before standing to hug the boy. “I’m so sorry Red Riot,” he sobbed. Kirishima tensed before relaxing a bit as the shock faded. He gently placed an arm on the man’s shoulder in pure confusion. “Why are you apologizing?” “You’re just a kid, I shouldn’t have let you tag along. That…. that was too dangerous, even for us pros.” Was he talking about the mission?
Kirishima sighed, leaning into the hug again as it was quite comforting. “I needed the experience, didn't I? That’s why I applied for your internship.” Fat Gum whimpered before holding the other’s head into him as if Kirishima was his own, legal son. Kirishima didn’t resist, he just rested his head in the hug and listened to the soft sobbing and apologies. Yes, himself and Tamaki had gotten pretty busted up from battle, but it was clearly nothing they couldn’t handle, right? “You saved me though, so…. why are you crying?” It was a legitimate question, caused by genuine curiosity. “You saved me and fulfilled your duty as a hero and a mentor. You shouldn’t be crying, you should be celebrating. After all, we saved that little girl from that monster, didn’t we?”
Just barely.
“I know,” Fat Gum whimpered as he tried to pacify his tears. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be acting like this infront of you.” He went to sit back, but stopped when he found scratched, bandaged, and bruised arms weren’t letting go of him. From his torso, Kirishima peered up gently, holding a bit tighter. He knew the other wasn’t okay. It wasn’t like Fat Gum to have breakdowns of any kind in front of others. His smile warmed Kirishima’s heart before he felt a hand gently run through his semi-greasy locks. “You’re looking good kiddo, I’m glad to see that.” Kirishima smiled. “Yeah, they say about another week then I can go home. After that, well,” he laughed a bit as he sat back. “I got some serious training to do.” He still wanted to be a hero. Fat Gum smiled as he poked the smaller in the stomach. “That so, huh?” Kirishima squealed, curling in on himself.
“Training will wait until you’ve rested,” he lectured with amusement in his tone. The other giggled as the finger continued to proad at the mostly bandaged torso. “Hehehe! But I-Ihehe’ve bhehehen bed b-bound for so long,” Ejiro giggled as he gently tried to push the hand away; only to be rewarded with a new hand prodding at him. “I don’t care. You are going to rest, do I make myself clear?” Poking and prodding now turned into gentle scribbles on the babe’s sides, earning just the lightest, airiest giggles from the hero in training. “Ah! W-Whahahait!” But it was far too late for that. Ejiro gently squirmed around as his mentor turned to face him better.
Deflated fingers alternated gently and slowly between scratching slightly pudgy sides, tracing along the taut stomach, and even going so far as to glide up and feather themselves along the mostly wrapped neck; causing the other to scrunch up. “It tickles,” Kirishima whined as he laid weakly, hardly trying to stop the other. He needed a bit of a laugh. “Really,” Fat Gum asked, faking surprise. “You're kidding me! The adorably tough hero, Red Riot, is ticklish?!” He stopped, letting out a fake gasp as he brought his hands to his mouth. Ejiro curled up slightly from the ghost tickles, confused on why the other had stopped.
“Oh no, this could be catastrophic news!” Eijiro giggled, rolling his eyes. Fat Gum reminded him a lot of his father sometimes. Goofy, overly caring, just overall a good guy to be around. “What,” the younger man dared to ask. “What,” Fat Gum repeated in disbelief. “Do you know how many villains could use such a weakness against you? Young hero, you must be ready to face these types of things.” Kiri felt like he knew where this was going. Oh no. He was already giggling, curling up as much as he could. “W-Wait,” he whimpered.
“Oh no, no, no, no,” Fat Gum tsked. “You said it yourself, you’ve been bed bound for weeks! You have to start training again as soon as possible, right? After finding such a weakness, I think right now might be the best time.” Ejiro shook his head a bit, giggling hysterically and squealing like a tot everytime Fat Gum launched a hand at him. “No, no tickling,” he giggled out. Oh, but it was too late. His fatherly figure had him scooped into his arms, holding him comfortingly and rather effectively to keep him trapped. Ejiro didn’t truly struggle, wiggling a bit but was clearly just doing it for show.
“So, where should we start first,” his mentor asked, hand gently tapping it’s fingers along the jiggling tummy. Kiri was giggling up a storm. “N-Nowhere,” he replied sheepishly. “Nowhere,” Fat Gum repeated teasingly. “I don’t believe nowhere is an option, Ejiro. Red Riot has to be ready to face all kinds of trials.” Not wanting to overdo it as the kid was still kind of mummified and really should be resting, Fata Gum gently lifted the red head’s arm and started to just barely drag his finger up and down the exposed hollow. Kirishima was hysterically giggling, curling into the other as much as he could and whining the whole time. “S-Sthahaop,” he whimpered, only to snort where Fat Gum moved down to gently trace over each of the ribs.
“You’re enemies won’t stop that easily Red Riot,” Fat Gum lectured. “Hehehe! But it tickles, chahahaome on!” This was a little embarrassing, but honestly, it was also kind of fun. Kirishima snuggled more and more into his hero, giggling like crazy. Even when the hand wasn’t touching him, the redhead hid his face in the older and just giggled his head off. It was amusing and quite frankly, adorable. These kids were so sweet, it scared the pro hero to think of what awaited them in years to come.
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bluefuckboy · 3 years
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THE SIGNIFICANCE OF TOYA’S SCAR PLACEMENT:
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Okay strap in for a meta post of me reading into things too much after having my heart ripped out.
LONG POST! Scroll down to EYES if you wanna get straight into the pain.
Let’s start with the obvious and not as emotionally painful.
ARMS:
The scarring on his arms probably comes from the day to day activation of his quirk.
You can see the flames here as a child
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They almost dance along the skin at points and then turn to waves of heat that Toya can direct how he wants. We’ve seen him attack by channeling the flames through his arms until they burst out from his hands. It’s clear from this panel that his skin is burning off as he uses his quirk, we even get a sound effect for emphasis
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NECK/JAW:
If we go off the assumption that the flames are initially generated from the core of his body, you can make the argument that these scars are a result of larger attacks which cover the body in more flames.
This panel is a good illustration
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Heat rises, so as Toya prepares attacks that generate more flames, you could say the scars are a result of that build up of flame and heat before he releases them in a larger, explosive attack
The majority of scars on the jaw in particular were most likely a result of Toya’s “suicide.” We’re told that all they found was a fragment of his lower jawbone. And obviously the aesthetic of Dabi stems greatly from his facial scars. It’s terrifying, disgusting and intriguing all at the same time.
This panel in particular is one of my favorites. The staples holding his skin together is just such a great visual and a nod to Horikoshi’s amazing talent.
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TORSO:
This one is more a throwaway theory. I think the scars mainly serve as a way to show the extent of his self destruction.
It’s far fetched, but part of me wonders if the scars around his lower torso came from him wrapping his arms around himself. From a crouched position, the scars line up pretty close to where your arms would be if you were to hug your midsection. Whether in an attempt to comfort, or just to hold onto something, I know I’ve found myself in that position, slumped against a wall as I cried.
Which leads me to the most painful theory...
EYES:
Alright here’s where we grab our tissues.
The scarring under Toya’s eyes is interesting. We’ve never seen him shoot flames from his eyeballs or anything crazy like that. They make for another great visual, especially when we see him crying blood so to speak.
We do know that Toya’s tear ducts were burned to the point where he is unable to cry
Dabi mentions it after Twice’s death as almost a joke to show how detached he’s become. But in my opinion, that “joke” is actually the reason for the scars.
If you don’t have your tissues yet, grab em now.
I think the scars below Toya’s eyes are a direct result of everytime he cried. We now know that his body is built to withstand cold temps, not hot. We also know that Toya was an extremely passionate and emotional child.
Here we see him storm off in tears after an argument with Fuyumi. He wanted so desperately to be Enji’s prodigy.
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He pushed himself to the point of self harm just to try and get his father’ attention
We see tears falling as he relentlessly trained himself
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And most significantly we see the pooling of tears beneath his eyes when he finally snaps
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I think Toya’s tears were hot. Each time he cried they would burn him ever so slightly and he was in so much pain that he cried until he physically couldn’t anymore. He burned his tear ducts beyond repair and was left with the permanent reminder of the countless tears he shed.
In the most recent chapter we see him cry blood again. He’s so close to achieving his goal, but he can’t cry tears of joy, of grief, of release
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That passionate little boy who wanted so badly to be a hero is long gone. Toya is long gone.
Toya’s tears have been replaced by the blood trickling down from the eyes of Dabi.
And now I’m crying too.
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krisdreaming · 4 years
Note
Hello! Your writing literally makes me go 😍 everytime I read it! So I was wondering if I could request a fem!s/o trying to make Ushijima laugh because she once saw him laughing while taking with Tendou and really that sound was like angels singing from above! She's not over him all the time, but she tries to tell jokes here and there or pulling funny faces or even tickle him a little to get the reaction she wants! I'm sorry if it's too specific! You can ignore if you want!! Thank you! 💕💕
uwu thank you!! I love this request!
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You’re waiting outside the gym for Wakatoshi like you always do. He steps outside with Tendou, and as usual Tendou is chattering away. You can’t really make out what he’s saying from this distance, but when he’s done talking he starts cackling. That’s not unusual. Tendou’s laughter is a sound you’ve heard countless times. What takes you completely off guard is that Wakatoshi is laughing, too. It’s not just a smile - you’ve seen those enough times. It’s not just the polite titter you’ve heard him give before, either. No, this is a full belly laugh, his head tilted back as the sound fills the air. You don’t think you’ve ever heard a more wonderful sound in your life.
“What’s so funny?” You ask as the two approach you, unable to contain the grin on your face. Wakatoshi has already stopped laughing and is now catching his breath, brushing a single tear from the corner of his eye. Be still your heart.
“Satori.” Wakatoshi shakes his head, and you look to Tendou, who merely shrugs, mirth still dancing in his eyes. Your boyfriend reaches for your hand, and you know you’ll never get anything more from either of them than that. Somehow, though, you need to hear that sound again.
The first thing you try is perhaps the most obvious. You’ve been searching for jokes that Wakatoshi might find funny, the kind of joke Tendou might tell.
“Hey, Toshi?” He looks up from his textbook. “Why don’t scientists trust atoms?” 
“Don’t they? That’s odd, I can’t think of any reason for it.” He frowns, perplexed.
“Because.” You giggle. “They make up everything.” He nods slowly, then shrugs, turning his attention back to his homework. You sigh. You might’ve expected that.
It could have been Tendou’s expression, more so than what he’d said. After all, he’s certainly known for pulling exaggerated faces. You practice a few in the mirror before you decide to test them out on your boyfriend.
“Toshi, what do you think?” You prompt, scrunching your face into what you consider one of Tendou’s signature expressions. 
“Y/N!” He seems a little startled, but he certainly isn’t laughing. “Are you alright? Do you need the bathroom?”
“No!” You yelp, quickly dropping the expression. 
“Ah, okay.” Somehow, it doesn’t sound like he quite believes you.
So maybe you don’t have Tendou’s touch for humor. That’s okay. There are other ways to make people laugh - like tickling them. You’re sitting side by side watching a movie when the perfect opportunity arises. Wakatoshi’s arm is around your shoulders, and you’re curled loosely against his side. You notice that his shirt has ridden up just a bit, and stealthily, you wiggle your fingers underneath and tickle the soft skin above his hip.
“What is it?” He looks down at you, and slowly your fingers stop moving. His lips haven’t even twitched.
“Nothing.” You sigh.
“Oh. I thought you were trying to get my attention.” With a shrug, he turns back to the TV. You officially give up. Maybe you were never meant to hear his laughter more than once. 
A week later, you’re snuggled up on Wakatoshi’s lap, flipping through the newest copy of Jump. Tendou always lends them to Wakatoshi, but he rarely reads them, so you figure someone had better get use out of them. You’re warm and perfectly content with his arms wrapped around you, and you’re actually rather enthralled by the new chapter you’re reading. You’ll have to ask Tendou for the next copy, as well.
When you feel the rumble start low in Wakatoshi’s chest, it startles you. Soon, he’s laughing harder, his head dropped against your shoulder muffling some of the sound. You blink, skimming the panels you’d just read. It certainly doesn’t seem very funny to you. Is this the kind of thing he finds humorous? You’re so taken aback that you hardly take the time to enjoy the sound you’d been trying to hear for so long.
“Toshi?” You ask hesitantly, when he finally recovers enough to lift his head, resting his chin on your shoulder again.
“I’m sorry.” The traces of the laughter are still in his voice, and he sighs. “It’s just - have you read this part, yet?” He points to an ad on the next page, something for hand cream. You shake your head in disbelief, and before you know it, you’re the one laughing.
“Pretty good, isn’t it?” He prompts, and you wipe the tears from your eyes before replying.
“I’m laughing at you, you big doof.” You say, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek. A slight frown creases his brow, but he presses a light kiss to your lips in response. You sigh happily. This is your boyfriend, and you wouldn’t want him any other way.
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aion-rsa · 3 years
Text
Invincible Episode 7 Improves Upon Its Already Great Source Material
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This article contains spoilers for Invincible episode 7.
Amazon’s animated adaptation of Robert Kirkman and Cory Walker’s comic Invincible was always a great idea. The property has just about everything that streaming services and their audiences are looking for currently: superheroes, ultraviolence, and jaw-dropping twists. 
One big question facing the series, however, was how could one show possibly fit in all the story of the comic’s lengthy 144-issue run? Invincible episode 7, “We Need to Talk,” is the first season’s penultimate installment and it reveals how the show is set to approach this logistical challenge. With so many comic book issues of plot to get through, Invincible seems perfectly happy to accelerate through that plot as efficiently as possible. To that end, “We Need to Talk” features a truly staggering number of climactic moments.
This might actually be the most charmingly chaotic and jam-packed episode of TV this year (at least before next week’s finale). So much happens in “We Need to Talk” that it runs the risk of overwhelming the viewer. With that in mind, let’s break down the important plot points of this hour and examine the major ways in which they differ from (and even improve upon) the comic.
Robot’s True Identity
The reveal that the entity known as “Robot” isn’t who he claims to be might be the most shocking Invincible twist thus far. And that’s saying a lot for a show whose first episode concludes with the story’s Superman equivalent straight up murdering the rest of his Justice League.
That Robot (Zachary Quinto) is really a malformed genius named Rudolph Conners isn’t a surprise to comic book readers, but its positioning this early in Invincible’s story is a surprise. Robot’s work with the Mauler Twins to create a new body for himself doesn’t happen until after the events of Omni-Man’s confrontation with Mark in the comics (more on that later). The show, however, shrewdly decides to present this moment in the same episode as Omni-Man’s fall – just so there’s never really a moment for viewers to catch their breath. 
But now the truth has finally arrived. Robot, the orange hunk of metal with a fixedly bemused expression, is actually a machine being operated remotely by Rudolph Conners. Rudolph, or Rudy, is a small, damaged man whose body isn’t capable of surviving Earth’s environment. For many years Rudy was content to exist in his own life-giving tank of fluids while operating his superheroic “Robot” remotely. Everything changed, however, when he met the hero known as Monster Girl.
Rudy couldn’t help but identify with Monster Girl (Grey Griffin), a fellow soul who has made the best of a flawed body. Everytime Monster Girl transforms into a monster, her human form de-ages several more weeks. Theoretically at some point Monster Girl will become an infant and then waste away into nothingness. Before any of that happens, Rudy wants to fix her…and he wants to fix his own broken body so that the pair can be together.
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To that end, Rudy sprung the mad genius villain team The Mauler Twins from prison to create a cloned body for him to transfer his consciousness into. What makes this whole thing even stranger is that the genetic material Rudy chose for his new body belongs to his Teen Team and Guardians of the Globe colleague Rex Splode. The new Rudy appears to be played by Rex Splode actor Jason Mantzoukas with his voice altered to sound younger. 
Does that mean Zachary Quinto is no longer a part of the series? Let’s certainly hope not as he may have been the best performer of the entire cast. And why did Rudy choose Rex’s DNA (and without Rex’s consent, it must be said)? Because Rex is hot, basically. Rudy chose a human form that Monster Girl was already comfortable flirting with. 
This is…a lot. And the fact that Rudy has to introduce himself to his teammates while they’ve all gathered for an “apocalyptic event” just adds to the madness. But what of The Mauler Twins? The disappointment of Rudy’s double-crossing doesn’t last long. For, after Rudy is forced to abandon his efforts to reincarcerate the Mauler Twins to return to the Guardians home base, the twins get back to their important task at hand. And that leads to the return of another important Invincible character…
The Immortal is Immortal After All
Back in Invincible episode 1, Mark Grayson’s dad Nolan a.k.a. Omni-Man (J.K. Simmons) made short work of the Guardians of the Globe. Darkwing? Dead. War Woman? Dead. The Immortal? De….wait a minute. How can someone called “The Immortal” die? 
Well, it turns out that death for The Immortal (still voiced by Ross Marquand) is only temporary. Omni-Man removed The Immortal’s head, which is pretty much universally lethal across all genre stories. But The Mauler Twins theorized that if The Immortal’s head were returned to his body, he would spring back to life. 
Sure enough, that’s exactly what happened once The Immortal’s noggin was reattached. Unfortunately for The Mauler Twins, their dreams of forming any sort of alliance with the resurrected hero are quickly dashed as he immediately flies off to confront the man who killed him. 
Omni-Man v. Cecil Stedman
And that takes us to Omni-Man. In the comic, Omni-Man’s confrontation with The Immortal is what leads Mark Grayson (Steven Yeun) to discover that he’s got a Darth Vader situation on his hands. The show borrows that moment from the comic because any time you have the opportunity to make a character watch his father tear a Wolverine-looking dude in half, you’ve got to take it. That comic book moment is surprisingly abrupt though. In one panel Omni-Man is doing his usual Omni-Man thing and saving a group of citizens from a faulty roller coaster and in the next panel, The Immortal is all over his ass.
The Amazon Prime series dramatically improves on what is already a pretty great moment simply by drawing it out and building serious tension. Nolan’s wife Debbie (Sandra Oh) and the entire Global Defense Agency led by Cecil Stedman (Walton Goggins) are already well aware of Nolan’s treachery and have decided to finally take action. In speaking to Den of Geek and other outlets prior to Invincible’s premiere, Kirkman (who’s onboard as a writer and producer for this adaptation) revealed that Cecil Stedman would be getting an expanded role earlier on in Invincible’s story. 
“Cecil Stedman is a character that we get to know a little earlier in the show and definitely we get to do more with him,” he said. “I think that’s a lot of fun. There’s definitely some differences to his character and working with Walton Goggins on him has been great.”
Cecil really is a fascinating tool for Invincible. Many superhero stories have a Jim Gordon-style government liaison for its heroes to interact with. This person usually represents the interests of the planet’s “normal” citizen and is particularly impressive for being able to cut it in the world of the super-powered. By having Debbie and the GDA uncover Nolan’s guilt first, Invincible creates a wonderful opportunity to display both Cecil’s competence and depict the absolute horror of we puny humans trying to keep a super-powered god in check. 
Many times throughout Invincible episode 7, Cecil admits that there is nothing they can do to stop Nolan. The best they can do is slow him down for a bit until Mark is able to intervene. The first roadblock that Cecil presents is the explosion of an entire suburban city block with Nolan at its epicenter (R.I.P. Donald). 
“Best it will do is maybe knock him on his ass for an hour or two,” Cecil says. Then when the smoke clears to reveal an unharmed Omni-Man, Cecil grimly adds “Or maybe not hurt him at all.”
Cecil then throws the “hammer” at Nolan, which is a powerful blast from a weaponized satellite.
“$400 billion for the world’s most expensive nosebleed,” Cecil quips when Nolan takes the weapon out with ease. 
Then we get a sense of how many moral shortcuts Cecil is willing to take to keep the Earth safe. Mad scientist D.A. Sinclair’s (Ezra Miller) wounds from his confrontation with Invincible haven’t even healed yet but Cecil already has him using his evil technology for noble purposes. Sinclair’s “Reanimen” technology is now being used to reanimate recently dead U.S. soldiers, who are sent in to slow down Omni-Man. Unfortunately, that is also unsuccessful.
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Finally, Cecil is forced to head out into the field armed with nothing but a teleporter to confront Omni-Man himself. When that inevitably fails to slow Nolan down, the GDA sends a monster that Nolan already conquered, only this time it’s been robbed of its weaknesses and fear. And that’s where Mark finds his father, just in time for The Immortal to arrive and deliver one hell of a surprise. 
There’s something to be said for the suddenness of the comic’s Omni-Man moment with Mark. Mark witnessing his dad’s evil act truly comes out of nowhere even though we know it’s inevitable as Nolan has been practicing this conversation all issue. 
What the show does with the moment is a masterstroke, however. By centering the focus on the human characters of Invincible’s world, we get a chilling sense of just how terrifying this all is. Omni-Man’s heel turn doesn’t just have personal implications for Mark, it means that Earth’s unbeatable protector now seems to hate Earth. More terrifying than that is that the only person we think can defeat him is Mark Grayson…who, it must be said, has done nothing but had his ass absolutely handed to him by lesser enemies over and over again for the past three episodes.
Amber and Mark
It probably feels anticlimactic to address Mark and Amber’s lover’s spat after breaking down Omni-Man’s reign of terror. But it’s necessary to see how far-reaching the changes (and in this case improvements) are in episode 7 in comparison to its original text. 
Mark and Amber’s relationship thus far has been all about frustration. Mark is facing an annoying problem with a seemingly easy solution. Amber (Zazie Beetz) is upset with him because he is absent in their burgeoning relationship. He’s absent in their burgeoning relationship because he’s a superhero. Therefore, the quickest, easiest solution to this dilemma is to tell her that he’s a superhero. 
So in this episode, that’s exactly what Mark does. He gets suited up and flies right through Amber’s window to deliver the exciting news. The problem is – she’s not that excited.
“Ugh, I know you’re a superhero,” Amber says. “I’m not an idiot, I figured it out weeks ago.”
This is not how things go down in the comic. That version of Amber is a bit more…let’s say “bubbly” and when confronted with the fact that Mark has lied to her for weeks she responds with an excited “My boyfriend is a superhero?!?!?”
The show, however, is smart to not let Mark off the hook so easily. Of course Amber knew that Mark is Invincible. Because, like she says, she’s not an idiot. Anyone who spends an inordinate amount of time with him is bound to figure it out sooner than later. So what Mark thought was a problem with an easy solution becomes yet another difficult lesson on his path to maturation. 
“I think that Amber is important in terms of holding Mark accountable,” Beetz told reporters prior to the show’s premiere. “Mark is still struggling with what his identity as a super person is. And she shows him that (powers) are not what make you good or special ultimately, it’s what’s in your character.”
It turns out that the people close to you don’t appreciate being lied to. Though human beings all look like particularly vulnerable ants from Mark’s perspective high up in the sky, we certainly don’t appreciate being treated like insects to be protected and manipulated by the powerful among us. 
Mark and Amber’s relationship is an excellent indication that nothing will come easy for Mark Grayson on this show. Every decision has an equal and opposite reaction. It’s important that he learns that lesson before he enters into what is sure to be the most stressful and morally confusing moment of his life next week.
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Invincible’s season finale will be available to stream Friday, April 30 on Amazon Prime.
The post Invincible Episode 7 Improves Upon Its Already Great Source Material appeared first on Den of Geek.
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almostkoo · 3 years
Text
Reset Character | Kim Taehyung
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pairings: kim taehyung x oc
summary: oc gets dared by friends to spend the night in a supposedly “haunted” mansion that used to belong to a upcoming actor in the 70’s, kim taehyung, oc comes face to face with the spector himself and has questions about the broken veil
word count: 2.9k
warnings: unedited language, mentions of death, taehyung is a very angry ghost at first
author’s notes: last story of spooktober !! omg i can’t believe i did this and finished it !! i’ve gotten some nice feedback over the course of whipping up these stories and it’s makes me truly happy that people are enjoying them :) as always i hope you enjoy this one too !!
link to my main masterlist
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The darkness of nighttime made the mansion look huge and intimidating in front of you, Jimin and Seokjin. Losing a drunken bet placed you in the circumstances you were currently in, standing in the walkway to the door of the long abandoned mansion.
“Okay fuck it. If I can’t get the dart on the target. I’ll spend a night in the Kim mansion” you had slurred, arm thrown over Jimin’s shoulder as he had looked at you laughing and struggling to hold his composure. “if you guys make it I’ll spend the night but if I don’t I’ll go. Yeah?”
“You’ll go? If you don’t make it?” Seokjin slurred, just as hammered as you were. Jimin, being the only one who’s head was clear and on his shoulders.
You nodded. Standing back and lining yourself up with the dartboard. You had three darts, three chances to hit the target on the nose. Staring hard at the board, one target turned into four that seemed to be moving around. You threw the first one, hitting the far end of the board. You threw the second one, hitting closer to the target. The last one didn’t even hit the board; it actually almost punctured the toe of Seokjin’s Nikes.
“Fuck it. I don’t care, it's just one night. How bad can it be?” you laughed.
Bad. Very bad. Very fucking bad. The liquid courage that those uncountable shots of vodka gave you had you out of your fucking mind to place a bet like that. Now here you were, superstitious as hell and very frightened to get close to the mansion.
The Kim mansion or known to some people as 0613 Morado Dr. had once belonged to a South Korean film star in the 70s named Kim Taehyung. A young handsome actor who started making his big break starring in a few indies and huge blockbusters before his untimely death in 1976. The medical examiner said it was an accidental overdose of pain medicine he had been prescribed a year prior for an injury on set. But a conspiracy theory quickly arose that it was one of his close friends that poisoned him due to jealousy. Rumor has it that his ghost treads the property scaring away anyone who dare enter.
“Are you ready Y/n?” Seokjin asked, wringing your shoulders.
“No and I wish I hadn’t said I was going to do this. I’m never drinking again. I swear to the heavens.” you said, shaking your head. You could feel the bile rise up your throat threatening to spill out all over the dead lawn.
“Well. Anywho, here’s your tote” Jimin handed you a canvas bag, stocked to the brim full of different things. “you have your sleeping bag, portable charger, charger cord, salt, holy water, lighter, sage. You know .. the necessities.”
“We’ll be out in the car camping out in case anything happens-“
“In case anything happens? What would happen? Why would anything happen? Why would you say that?” you rambled quickly, Jimin’s small hand clasped over your mouth stopping you from going any further.
“No rambling. None of that right now. The quicker you get in there and fall asleep the quicker this all will be over! Speaking of, there’s some melatonin in there if you need it. We gotta blast. This big ass house is giving me the heebiejeebies.” Seokjin patted your tote and him and Jimin ran back to Seokjin’s car parked across the street. You looked at the house in front of you. Patting your pockets to make sure your phone was there, taking a deep breath you started up the walkway to the front door.
You pushed the door open, the flashlight Jimin placed in your tote illuminating the way. You stepped around the mansion and it was big. Tall walls with brown wooden panels and slanted ceilings. Old plants in their pots that had since died long ago, old furniture, laid astray stained and in ruins. The shag carpet in the same state. You could see the beauty that this place had once ago. You continued moving forward through the house going up on the steps on the landing to set yourself up for where you’d be sleeping for the night.
The mansion was chilly, that was for sure. For it to be California in Autumn was one thing for you to be sitting in a “haunted” mansion of a deceased celebrity was another thing. Your nerves were on edge. You had called everyone you could think of starting with Seokjin and Jimin separately. There were only so many people you could call this late at night who would actually pick up the phone and answer. Out of the friends you called the only ones that answered besides Seokjin & Jimin, were Dahyun, Yeosang and Changkyun and that wasn’t even half of them. You dug through the tote looking for the melatonin, before finding it and taking it dry.
Even in the darkness your eyes kept moving around darting around, the feeling like you were being watched accompanied you like an unwanted friend. You leaned back against the wall closing your eyes and letting the melatonin do its job.
Slam! You jumped awake with a gasp, heart beating out of your chest. Reaching around for anything on the floor besides you, finding your phone the time read 3:36 a.m. You fumbled to turn the flashlight on. Your deep breaths were the only noise heard in the house. The old mansion looked the same as it did when you first entered. Scanning around when you saw something in the doorway to the kitchen. You whipped your flashlight around, the figure disappearing further into the kitchen almost as soon as your flashlight came it’s way. Your heart felt like it was deep in a cave beating so fast and sending echos up the walls of your chest. You were terrified.
Resisting your senses telling you not to get up you had to ignore them out of curiosity. Standing up and walking down the steps as slow as possible to not make any noise and alert whatever it was to your current location. You turned your flashlight off, stepping into the kitchen blind. The moonlight that slipped into the windows past the tattered curtain illuminated the kitchen, a soft blue glow almost made you confuse the green tiles of the floor to a different color. If anything was in here it would’ve seen you before your foot could completely make it past the threshold.
Chalking it up as a trick of the eye. Knowing that sometimes melatonin messes with people, you turned away to leave. Why would a film star wanna stay put and haunt people. I’d just go and pass on if I were them. You thought to yourself shaking your head that you were being silly about everything.
“Leave!” a voice whispered in your ear, causing you to scream and run away. Back up the steps instead of out of the house. Now everytime you yell at the characters in horror movies for doing that. It made sense now you couldn’t control your legs, it was like your brain put you in reverse taking you back to the last place you were, nonetheless you still felt stupid for not leaving. Everything you needed was grasped right in your hand, everything on the landing could be replaced.
Yet here you were panting like a dog after a run attempting to call Seokjin and Jimin only to be met with endless ringing. Pulling back to look at the screen to discover you had no signal, zero bars. The house got so cold you felt yourself shake. The shutters on the outside of windows slammed back and forth against the house. The sounds of groaning, like multiple voices overlapping over one another. Crawling back into the closest corner you felt your eyes start to water, a sob leaving your lips. You were frozen in place, glued to the wall.
All of a sudden everything stopped. The house became quiet. Lifting your head up you examined your surroundings. A figure stood at the end of the staircase. You locked eyes with the man at the end of the staircase, his strong glare meeting your frightened eyes. His down turned lips parted in a sigh.
“What the hell are you doing in my home?”
You’d straightened up wiping the tears away with a sniff. Staring back blankly at the man.
He yelled, making you jump. “You! I’m talking to you! What the hell are you doing here?”
“I- I’m just tryna honor my end of a bet. I lost a bet that’s it.” you whispered. The man shook his head. You took in his appearance, dressed in all black. Black robe almost dusting against the floor, striped button down and black slacks. Jet black hair styled in a slight middle part.
“My home isn’t your playground.” the man said, gripping the bannister on the staircase.
“You must be Kim Taehyung?” you asked.
“I’m the only ghost living here so I would hope so.” he stated.
“I can leave if you want.” you offered, wanting to facepalm yourself after asking such a stupid question of course he would want you to leave. Taehyung looked a little taken back.
“You’re not afraid of me?” he asked.
You stalled. “I mean yeah. You just did all that stuff just now. I’m actually terrified, but I don’t know if you’re gonna kill me so I figure it wouldn’t hurt to use my manners.”
Taehyung hummed. “Normally the type of people that come through want to vandalize my home or film ghost hunting videos they say, perform seances to try and talk to me. But if you are just here to truly honor a bet I’m sure another three hours wouldn’t hurt.” He walked up the steps sitting a couple of feet away from you on the landing. You kept looking at him out of the corner of your eye at him as he idly played around with his fingers.
“Are you just going to stare at me?” Taehyung asked, coldly.
“I’m sorry it’s just I’m really scared right now. No offense to you Mr. Kim.” you apologized.
Taehyung snorted at your formality. “You don’t have to call me Mr., just call me Taehyung. I’m sure we’re around the same age…” he paused, rolling his eyes “I’m sure we would’ve been or something.. you get what I’m trying to say.”
“I get it. How old were you? If you don’t mind me asking.”
“24.”
You nodded in response. You had maybe… 3 hours to finish in the house. You only had to make it until sunrise since that is technically staying the night. If Taehyung wasn’t going to do anything but sit there and be quiet it wouldn’t be too bad.
“So are you tampering with the signal or…” you trailed off. Taehyung made a face like a lightbulb that had gone off above his head.
“I’m sorry. It’s not intentional. It’s just something about me that does that. You’re not the first to complain about your smartphone? Is that what they’re called?” he asked. You held in a laugh, nodding your head.
“I just. I’m confined here. I only see the world when it comes to me. So I don’t really know too much about out there anymore.” Taehyung confided in you, speaking barely above a whisper.
“It’s fine. On the bright side you would’ve been older, maybe you would’ve been the type to dodge this stupid social media shit.” Taehyung looked at you confused.
“Don’t worry about it.” you looked around the house from where you were sitting and up the stairs leading into the bedroom. “Nice house you got here.” Taehyung scoffed.
“Thanks. Didn’t always look this run down.” he said and with a wave of his hand it was like a light came through the place, showing what used to be. The bright orange carpet and brown couch, huge sparkling chandelier hanging from the ceiling, plants live and green. You looked over at Taehyung, seeing the pained look on his face as dropped his hand, making everything return to normal.
“A little trick I picked up over the years.” he mumbled. You couldn’t imagine what he went through. Having everything pulled away from you so quickly at a young age.
“Bet you threw some cool parties here. I know if i had a place this big I would’ve.” you tried to uplift the mood. Taehyung nodded.
“Yeah I was gonna throw a big bash here when I finally got my Oscar nom. I knew it was gonna happen. I was gonna be the first of the first. Start breaking down all types of doors for people to come in and follow up.” Taehyung wiped away a tear.
“What happened? Was it really your friend? Or was it an accident?” you asked. Taehyung looked at you eyes narrowed angrily.
“Why would I tell you what happened? So you could run and tell my business to whoever will listen?” he asked.
“Who the hell is gonna believe my crazy ass? I spent the night in a celebrities haunted mansion and talked to said celebrity and now I have the answers to a decades old mystery? Get the fuck outta here.” you shook your head rolling your eyes.
“It was a mix of both” Taehyung ran his fingers through his hair “a friend of mine, Hyunwoo he knew my knee had been hurting that day he knew it was. He saw me take my medicine earlier. But little did I know that evening when we sat down for drinks he slipped more of my medicine in, letting it disintegrate in my liquor. I had now clue. When I choked on my own vomit, he didn’t yell for help. He didn’t call 911, like a good friend would. No, he laid me back. Stroking my head, saying his apologies and watching the light leave my eyes and that was it.” Taehyung looked at you, your mouth parted in shock.
“Jesus fucking Christ.” you said, holding your chest.
“All that just to steal my role alongside Al Pacino. The big role, guaranteed to get my Oscar. I don’t even know how the movie ended up working out for him.”
“You know to be honest. I don’t even think the movie might’ve went through production because I have quite literally never heard of it.” you confessed. Taehyung shook his head.
“Well this is news to me. I got murdered just for the film to get scrapped or stuck in development hell.” he laughed bitterly.
“That’s fucking tragic. I’m really sorry, Taehyung.”
“What are you sorry for? Don’t be sorry. You weren’t around, wasn’t even thought of when I died. All things happen for a reason. That’s something I had to learn. It’s hard not to be a bitter ghost. I don’t mean to scare people away to be a dickhead. But I’m stuck here. The last thing I want is people poking and prodding around my home. It’s the only place I can get peace of mind.”
“Hopefully one day you can move on. I know I don’t know you but hopefully ya know.” you sighed.
“Thank you.” he said.
You and Taehyung talked for a while. About a whole bunch of things. From you telling him all about the internet and what it can do and him telling you all about his start in acting. Weird shit and secrets nobody knew about other celebrities back then.
You looked down at your phone, not having checked it for a while. 6:47 it read.
“Fuck. I’ve gotta go. My friends are gonna be waiting for me. They’re not gonna believe I made it through the night.” you said, quickly standing up to get your belongings. Taehyung stood up too watching you walk down the staircase. You turned around to look at him.
“What? Are you not gonna be a gentleman and walk me out? I thought people your age were big on chivalry and shit.” you joked. Taehyung smiled, the first smile you saw all night, big and boxy as he made his way down the steps.
Taehyung paused.“May I ask you something?” You nodded waiting for him to continue.
“Do people.. do people still talk about me?” he asked.
“I mean besides the bad stuff yeah. My friend Seokjin, he’s a film major. They talked about you in his class last week. You’re up there with like James Dean.” you stated. Taehyung gasped.
“Really?”
“Really. Although your image isn’t exploited like his. Yeah people know you.” you smiled. Taehyung stuffed his hands into his pockets.
“It was nice meeting you. I hope everything goes well for you. Work and life and stuff.” Taehyung said.
“Same. I hope you finally make it up there because when I die I’m gonna need a tour guide.” you laughed. Taehyung chuckled.
“See ya around.” he said.
“See ya around.” you opened the door closing it behind you. Seokjin and Jimin were waiting for you, car running in front of the house. You slid in the backseat.
“You fucking made it out!” Seokjin yelled, as Jimin put the car in drive to pull off.
“Yeah, I did.”
“So, did you see him? Did you see Kim Taehyung?” Jimin asked.
“No. Thank God I didn’t. I probably would’ve peed on myself.” you lied.
“Wow. What a bummer. I guess it wasn’t that bad being in there.” Seokjin said.
“No it wasn’t too bad at all. I might have to go back home and check out some of his movies.” you said, leaning back against the back seat. Looking out the window, hopefully Taehyung makes it to the sky some day.
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azwriting · 4 years
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Never Was There a Story... (Forget Me Not, Kylo Ren x Reader) - Chapter Eleven
Hi guys here's chapter eleven! Sorry it took a little bit, the holiday caused quite the delay! I’m truly concerned for the safety of Kylo/Ben in TROS and I’m rioting if anything bad happens to him. Nonetheless I hope you enjoy! Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! Gif is not mine!
Summary: (Y/N) and Kylo continue to grow closer until one night they finally find each other again.
Warning(s): Language, Angst, Fluff, NSFW (towards the end),
Word Count: 6210
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Calloused fingertips traced invisible lines against (Y/N)’s smooth skin, causing her to faintly stir in her deep sleep. They were hot against her face as the person mumbled incoherent words, something her fogged mind could not pick apart. She felt them slip away, the warm presence next to her disappearing from the bed as well, her eyes never opening. She barely registered it at all as she fell back into a light sleep.
A door slid open, waking (Y/N) from her short sleep. Her eyes fluttering open at the noise and watched as a blurry silhouette exit the bathroom. Blinking rapidly, her eyes focused in on a fully dressed Kylo heading towards the main door. It was barely dawn where was he going? “Slipping out before daylight huh?” (Y/N) teased, her words stopping the silent man. He turned to find her staring at him from the mass of covers, looking nothing short of comfortable and extremely inviting. A part of him was not positive as to why he thought to leave the comforts of the bed in the first place. “I’m sorry, did I wake you?” (Y/N) denied it as she propped herself up on an elbow, her sleep hooded eyes never faltering from his.
 “Where are you going?” Kylo stepped away from the door and moved closer to her. 
“Why you miss me already?” (Y/N) smiled, she loved his humorous side that was breaking through his once icy and stiff persona he had adapted as Kylo Ren. Although she knew he had to, to survive.
 “Something like that.” Kylo let out a short chuckle now hovering above her.
 “I’m going to meditate.” His answer was timid as if it seemed unreasonable for him to do so. Even the Dark side Force users were known to meditate and Kylo was not just purely dark.
 “May I accompany you?” 
A small eager smile grew on his face, “Of course.” With that, he pulled her out of bed.
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(Y/N) walked towards the area in between the garden and the lake where Kylo sat waiting for her. She was now cleaned, dressed, and ready to tap back into the Force fully. Eager to connect to another lost part of herself, a circumstantial part in indicating where her place was. She sat down cross legged beside Kylo, who she mirrored, the palm of his hands pressed firmly against his knees. “You’ll need to clear your mind and focus inward.” He instructed his eyes never opening. (Y/N) nodded even though he could not see it. She closed her eyes and attempted to will away all her thoughts, focusing on her heartbeat, but little thoughts would slip back into her mind just as she began to reflect inward. They were tiny nothing thoughts, nothing on the grand scale of things she had to worry about, but they intruded anyways keeping her from her state of peace.
 “Are you in need of assistance?” (Y/N) peeked one eye open to see Kylo observing her restlessness and inability to submerge herself into a state of inner stillness.
 “Maybe, only if you care to.” He snickered under his breath and moved to rest on his knees, facing her. His hands extended outwards, his calloused fingertips pressing gently against her temple, and (Y/N) closed her eyes. Her mind quieted down, allowing for her to slip into a state that was completely still and one pointed, her soul awakening. She was fully aware of her surroundings: of Kylo removing his hands and sitting back down, of the gentle breeze caressing the surface of the blue water, and of the soft melodies performed by surrounding birds. She felt the flow of the Force: life, decay, rebirth, the Light and the Dark. She could feel the Light surfacing in Kylo, her heart swelling in response. He was changing, he was starting the path to saving himself. (Y/N) focused on a middle ground in between the two sides when she felt something strange. The Dark was not beckoning to her, promising enticing impossible things, no it was creeping forward reaching for her instead.
(Y/N) was little kneeling in her small bed, small arms pressed against the window sill. Her bright eyes watching the bright crackling lightning through the small window, enjoying the cool night breeze that floated in with the sweet smell of the garden just beyond the walls. She witnessed the same breeze dance through the surrounding trees, each leave twirling along. (Y/N) was content and happy. With another bolt of lightning erupting across the sky, lighting the otherwise dark Nayli, a strange twisted feeling entered her soul. Filling her with only fear. The sweet smell of the garden faded, replaced with a strong scent that burned in her nose with each inhale, smoke. She coughed out the strange twist in smell as she slid off her bed. Confusion and frightfulness replacing her previous contentedness, even she, at such a young age, knew something was wrong. (Y/N) walked towards the door across her room, a strange orange hue sneaking in through the bottom slit. As her tiny hand reached for the door panel, the door abruptly shot up. 
Her mother looked down with frantic eyes, the blackest of smoke already clinging to her skin and nightgown. “Mamma?” She was silent as she scooped (Y/N) up into her arms, a hand cradling her head, pushing the child down into her mother’s clothed shoulder to prevent the inhalation of fumes. Her mother rushed through the flame coated hallway, hurrying towards the front door. A loud cracking noise sounded, followed by a crashing sound. Her mother halted in her motions, tucking (Y/N) closer. 
“No!” Her mother cried out. (Y/N) tore her head away from the shoulder to see some of the large lumber supports had fallen from the ceiling and now obstructed their escape.
 “(Y/M/N)!” A deep voice bellowed out from the other side of the blockage. 
“(Y/F/N) we’re trapped!” Her mother called back seeing her husband’s face poking through a small opening left in between the lumber. 
“Go out one of the windows!” (Y/N) and her mother turned to find the hallway behind the consumed with even more flames. The two turned back to the obstacle, her mother eyeing the small opening, small enough for a child to fit through. 
“No you’re going to have to grab (Y/N)!” She concluded. 
“What about you?” (Y/N)’s father called back in a frantic. 
“I’ll figure something out, but you have to save her, she’s too important!”
 A loud defeated sigh was heard, “I know. I’m ready when you are.” (Y/N) was pulled away from her mother’s body, leveling the small girl with her mother’s face. 
Pressing a tearful kiss to her cheek, her mother instructed her carefully, “Keep your head down honey.” (Y/N) obeyed and felt as she was maneuvered through the small opening into her father’s hands.
(Y/N)’s eyes flew open as she jolted back to the present. Her chest was tight as her memory induced a deep panic in her. Her breathing was ragged on the verge of hyperventilating. Her mind replayed her parent’s deaths, the nightmare she consistently had as a child. The panic induced hysteria she was experiencing seemed to break Kylo out of his meditation, his widened eyes turning to hers. He was up on his knees quickly, his red crackling lightsaber appearing out of thin air. His eyes scanned her body for any sign of injury, observed the terrain looking for any sign of a hostile threat, completely unaware that the threat was her mind. Kylo seemed to read her manic thoughts better after he concluded there was no physical threat, finally reading that she had once again seen a flash of a memory again. She watched as he turned off his lightsaber and place it in the grass next to him, his eyes attentively watching her. “I saw them die, I saw them die.” She repeated thickly. Instantly Kylo’s arms were beckoning her forward and into his sinking lap, his arms tightly securing her against him. (Y/N) clung to him desperately as she continued to echo the same four words.
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(Y/N) sat on the couch in the house, rocking herself back and forth, still in a fit of shock. Her tears had dried, but she could only credit that miracle due to the fact she had run out of them. She still sat in her state of distress when Kylo exited the kitchen with a cup of tea in his hand. His towering frame came to a stop and handed her the steaming cup, the warmth thawing through her stone like stature. Kylo sat down next to her and proceeded to rub soothing circles on her back, their automatic comforting tool. Shakingly (Y/N) lifted the cup to her lips and took a small sip, in the same breath admitting to the dark truth that haunted her. “I killed my parents Kylo.” 
“Why would you believe such a thing?” Kylo questioned despite knowing her train of thought, why she made this conclusion everytime she dreamt of the horrible night. It was something that had discussed late at night when these dark thoughts plagued her sleep.
 “It was my nightmares all over again, reliving the night it happened. I was looking out the window and felt this great swell of darkness consume me. Then the fire erupted across the farmhouse… I started the fire.” 
The gentle hand of her back was removed, instead moving to turn her to face him. His sincere eyes reined her out of the abyss of sorrow. “No you didn’t. (Y/N) there has never been an ounce of darkness in your soul. It was a tragic accident, the lightning caused it. The Republic investigated it, there was no foul play.” (Y/N) nodded along, she knew this, she did. Leia and Kylo had told her many times, it was not her fault. Although something still did not feel right about that night, but she needed to discredit it, for her sanity. She was only four perhaps she had been wrong, confused. Her sorrow could not be so easily swayed, but she would drop the subject. 
“I know… I just-” She cut herself off, wanting to spare his feelings, but she had already thought it. She always lost someone of significance to a fire.
 “I know, but neither of them were your fault.” She looked to him through her veil of lashes, riddled with guilt. Kylo’s arms outstretched once again, but this time his eyes held a look of questioning, uncertainty. (Y/N) silently approved and his arms wasted no time in moving her to sit sideways on his lap. She instantly burrowed herself against his chest finding the comfort she longed for.
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The next morning, (Y/N) felt the same calloused fingertips pressed against her skin. There was no rhythm to his movements today, only a simple caress followed by a few light pokes. Was he afraid she was no longer tangible? Keeping her eyes closed she feigned sleep, enjoying his soft strokes. “I still can’t believe you’re really alive.” His raspy voice murmured, in disbelief. Worse he thought she was a ghost… “I can hear you, you know?” (Y/N) bit back a smile, opening her eyes to see him still lying across from her. His hair falling wildly against the pillow, eyes still red from sleep, and a lazy smirk on his face. Oh what a lovely sight. 
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 
“Hmm sure you don’t.” She giggled and stretched her arms over her head, hearing a faint pop with the motion. Kylo watched her with an amused look, he was quite frankly giving her too many smiles to handle. “I have a proposition for you.” (Y/N) quirked up an eyebrow and studied his eyes, the windows to his soul. 
“I’m listening.”
 Kylo propped himself up on one elbow and looked down on her, “Let’s go swimming.” 
“Really?” Perhaps she was imagining things but did the Supreme Leader of the First Order just suggest they go swimming? 
“I can still hear you.” He deadpanned, causing an embarrassed blush to seep up the back of her neck and her cheeks. “And yes. You used to love swimming and I figured you could use a nice memory.” (Y/N) felt her heart pick up a little, his simple caring words ruining any fight she had left. Was there any fight even left? She knew she was stumbling down a deep tangled path, but she could not fight it. Eventually they would have to return to the world, to reality, to the dark truth that was their life outside this atmosphere, but they both continued to choose to ignore it all.
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Kylo stood in the main room awaiting (Y/N), the massive intimidating Force user was in a pair of inky black swimming shorts, striving for the two towels in his hands to hide his exposed chest. She had already seen him without his shirt on when they first arrived five days ago. He did not want her to feel as flustered and uncomfortable as she had that morning. Granted that was before they had begun to reconnect, before she knew the truth. Yes, in the past they had seen each other naked plenty of times, becoming extremely comfortable around each other, but it had been over a decade. Kylo heard her door shoot open and the sound of her piddle paddle against the white floors as she neared the main room. The Supreme Leader grew nervous, wanting to sink in his skin, before his thoughts were pulled away. 
(Y/N) stepped out of the hallway in a simple black bathing suit, fingers weaving her hair into a tight braid.. His eyes trailed up her figure, gulping heavily at the sight. It had been over a decade since he had last seen so much skin, let alone hers. He was unsure of how to process it all. Kylo tried to remind himself that her comfort came first, that he needed to stay in control of his thoughts, of his hands. They were not love struck teenagers anymore, only broken adults who had found each other again. Her simple touches and thoughts were not signs that she wished to be with him again, no he would need a verbal admission for that, words he did not believe she would ever say despite it all. He had become a monster and no one loved monsters.
 “Ready?” (Y/N) grinned, unaware of his racing thoughts. 
“Y-Yes.” He extended his arms outwards towards the glass door and to his own personal torment.
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The lake water was rejunivinating against (Y/N)’s exposed skin as she waded through the breathtakingly refreshing water, her mind at complete ease and content. No sorrow filled thoughts plagued her mind, no thoughts of the eventual discussion of how Kylo and her were supposed to continue forward. No, she could only feel the vibrant energy of life that enclosed around the lake, that greeted her like an old friend. Although her true old friend swam slowly trailing behind her, his wet hair clinging to his face messily. Although she doubted he would ever admit it, she knew he was enjoying himself. Her arms extending out of the water to push her further on, elicited a sound that triggered another flash to occur.
(Y/N) and Ben were in the overgrown field, just beyond the temple. They were in their mid teens, their shifting friendship the only thing on their minds. “Just trust me and stay still.” Ben sighed out annoyed. (Y/N) only rolled her eyes, eyeing his upside down figure across from her. He was doing a handstand, his hair falling away from his face, revealing his ears that he ever so hated. She thought they were cute, just another part of him that added to his perfect self. Of course she would never admit that to him, but that was besides the point. Instead she only giggled at the sight. The young padawan across from her had gotten it into his head that he could lift her using the Force, upside down. A story Master Luke had begun to regret telling his nephew.
 “Fine but if you drop me, I will personally fly you to Tatooine and feed you to a Sarlacc.” 
Ben’s eyes widened at that, “Noted.” The two were silent for awhile and (Y/N) could feel Ben’s presence reaching forward in the Force, but seemed to be unable to lift anything. He was not focusing enough, surely the amount of blood rushing to his head was not helping. His aura shifted from determined to frustrated to angered and (Y/N) finally spoke up at that. “Let me help.” Ben’s eyes opened harshly, agitated he could not do it himself, but the sincere look on (Y/N)’s face disposed of any anger. He instead nodded and closed his eyes again. (Y/N) did the same and began to search the Force for Ben’s surge of power, the young padawan finding it rather quickly. The two had an unheard of connection in the Force as if they were drawn together, their powers somehow being pushed together, as if they belonged that way. The two focused immensely with their connected energy, both beginning to feel a change. (Y/N) and Ben felt a burst of something, a sign to open their eyes. 
“Whoa!” They both were floating a few inches above the ground, (Y/N) still cross legged and Ben upside down but hovering in the air. Around them a few items floated too, their lightsabers, books, and scrolls, their power doing it all.
(Y/N) returned to the bright sun and sparkling water, she now swimming upright and in place. Kylo still was a feet away, only now he wore more of a smile. He noticed her no longer glazed over eyes, signifying she was back from her memory. “What did you feel?” She asked beating him to the punch as he swam closer.
 “Humor, Joy, and Pride.” She hummed in acknowledgement, her head dipping back into the water. Her hair swayed gently in the water as she answered his unasked question.
 “I saw when you tried to lift me standing on your head.” Kylo let out a soft chuckle, his inner pleasure radiating off of him with the sound. Everyday (Y/N) could feel the darkness retreat and the light grab ahold of him, it was a slow process, but she suspected he also fought against it as much as he could. She was unsure as to why he was afraid to turn back, it was something they would need to delve into in the near future. 
“I’m glad I didn’t drop you.” Kylo’s voice awoke her from her thoughts and she laughed at his words, recalling her empty threat. 
“From what I recall you couldn’t lift me without my help.” She could not help but tease him. Others would be trembling where she stood, quaking in fear of the white hot anger that ran through Kylo Ren’s body, but not her . Oh no she rather rejoiced in the fact that she was in this position and he was slowly distancing himself from that loathsome mantra. Kylo quirked an eyebrow up at her antics, a challenge embedded in the action. 
“Oh really?” (Y/N) had no time to respond before a spray of water coated her already wet skin. She gaped at him in disbelief, what were they children again? 
“Yes.” Kylo mocked, reading her thoughts. She did not think very much before she was shoving a handful of water at him, a minor splash war beginning. It was as if they really were children again. Children who were not forced to grow up so quickly, children who did not perish. Kylo swam closer and grabbed ahold of (Y/N) before she could shovel another handful of water into his face. Pulling her flush against him, their fun antics stopped, breath hitching in throats. The two stared into each other’s eyes as the warm sunlight danced across their skin, the same bare skin that was pressed tightly against each other. It was all so overwhelming, their senses heightened by their intoxicating presence. When was the last time they had been this close, under such joyful circumstances? Much too long, that (Y/N) was sure of. She could feel the diminishing self control in Kylo and in herself. She was not entirely distraught by the idea, but it was too soon.
 “Now don’t go getting any ideas Spaceboy.” She breathed out, her breath fanning against his smiling face. 
“Never.” His brown eyes gleamed with his reply and (Y/N) felt if she were to drown in anything today it would be his eyes. The light banter seemed to break down the thick tension between them, Kylo’s releasing arms also doing the same. “How about lunch?”
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The sun had just set beyond the ridge, the soft warm glow fading into a dark blue, with the stars beginning to glisten in the night sky. The two Force users after another peaceful dinner, had retired to the couch. Kylo was taking up the entirety of the surface, his body much too large to try and cram into a small corner, with an old brown leather book cradled in his massive right hand. He read the contents aloud to his company who in return only buried her head further into the crease of his neck. (Y/N) was at ease, resting in between Kylo’s outstretched legs. His warmth and soft words were lulling her to sleep. 
She had never slept so much in her entire life than she had these past few days. The emotional weight of the stress she experienced and the truth she had relearned, she suspected had a temporary affect on her body. Inducing the seemingly constant fatigue. Kylo continued reading to her and her eyes began to grow heavy against his skin. (Y/N) thought of the past five days and how quickly they had changed, transitioned into something entirely else, how quickly her feelings had changed. Upon arrival she had been a lost Resistance fighter begging for an escape from the Supreme Leader and now she wanted something so strikingly different. “Stay with me.”
 It was neither a statement nor question, but a promise comprised of simply three words. Kylo maneuvered above her, pulling his neck out from under her, just to get a look at her sleepy face. Her eyes were half lidded, a lazy smile on her face, and a sweet dusting of warmth coating her cheeks. She looked utterly magnificent to him. He let out a deep sigh and lowered his head, pressing his nose against the top of her braid. “Forever.”
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Twelve days. (Y/N) had been with Kylo Ren on this planet for twelve days. Each morning she woke to soft innocent touches, then Kylo proceeded to make breakfast for them, and fill their afternoon with different activities. They would walk around the surrounding fields, go swimming, read, or simply lie down in the garden and reminisce. All activities that brought out more flashes. He was doing it to help her of course, to help her process it all, but there was an alternative motive behind his actions. He wanted to reconnect… they both did. In the midst of all this they wanted to find each other again. In the evening, Kylo would cook again for them, he refused to let her assist in any way, next they would watch the sunset, and then retire to bed only to start all over again. (Y/N) knew they were playing out a fantasy, pretending to live another life, one where they had no responsibilities besides to be with each other. It was not wise to live like this, to fool each other like this, but they could not fight it. They simply could not fight each other.
(Y/N) exited the master bathroom to find the bedroom empty, just as she had left it. A part of her was relieved, she needed a moment to think. It was late and she had decided to take another shower, to wash away the remnants of the day, and Kylo must have still been outside meditating. He had begun to do it more actively, a part of him rising and it forced him to need time to contemplate. After her experience last week, she had not returned to meditate with him, afraid of how the Dark would seek her out again. But she could not think of that, not when her mind was already a frazzled mess. Anxiety filled her soul as she paced across the span of the room, her fingers fiddling with the hemline of her white nightgown. She could not help the thoughts, the desire that raced through her mind. The thoughts frightened her, he had let her down before. She would not be able to survive the heartache if he did again. But, her thumping heart reminded her, not once since they had been here had she seen him make contact with the First Order. It was like he had cut himself off in search of possible redemption. The idea made her heart swell and extinguish some of her anxiety. She was unsure of how it would go, but she wanted it.
With a surge of certainty (Y/N) moved towards the door across from her, but halted in her motions when the door opened for someone else. He entered the room rather abrasively, a look of concern embedded on his handsome features. His eyes found hers quickly, observing her enticing white figure, his concern being replaced with something unreadable. 
“What’s wrong sweetheart? I can feel the anxiety surrounding your aura from outside.” His words were still laced with worry as he stepped closer to the other side of the bed. No nothing was wrong per se but she could not find the ability to voice it. Her nerves were getting the best of her but she needed to stay focused, determined. He would want this too, right? 
(Y/N) stayed silent as she hurried to close the distance between them, her hands grabbing his face and pulling him down to her lips. A noise of surprise escaped past his lips as he was taken aback by her unexpected actions. For a moment they were lost in the kiss, in the feelings boiling inside, in their longing for each other. But his large hands closed around her upper arms and gently pulled (Y/N) away from him. 
(Y/N)’s lips already felt cold at the disappearance of his, a subtle pout forming in response. Why had he pulled away? Had she misread his feelings, his intents? Was this not all about being together again? “(Y/N)…” His voice wavered as he looked down at her, eyes gleaming with a look of warning. What was he so concerned about? Was he afraid to lose himself in her? Because she was hoping to lose herself in him. 
“It’s okay Ben, it’s okay.” (Y/N) stepped closer watching the sharp intake of air Ben had taken at the sudden difference in name. It had been so long since he had heard her truly say it, let alone with so much passion behind it. His hands fell from her arms and she used the new found freedom to let them trail up his exposed arms, leaving delicate touches behind. She traced every visible vein, every bulging muscle, leaving behind nothing but goosebumps. Standing on her tippy toes, (Y/N) moved to press soft kisses to the side of Ben’s neck, loosening his resolve with each kiss. A soft sigh fell from his lips as she continued to taste the salt of his skin, his breathing picking up slightly. She wanted to convey to him how much he meant to her, how much she wanted to be with him. With one last kiss pressed to the edge of his jaw, Ben pulled (Y/N) back and bent down to capture her lips once again, his fear dissipating.
His rough hands raked down the silky fabric of her nightgown finally grabbing at the back of her soft thighs and lifting her instantly. (Y/N) locked her legs around him as Ben moved to sit on the edge of the bed. Their bodies were flushed against one another, lips pressing feverish kisses to their mouths, teeth clashing against each other roughly. (Y/N) eagerly wove her fingers into Ben’s hair, soaking in the feeling of his hands slipping up her nightgown to rest on her waist. Her heart was beating rapidly in her chest as she continued to drown in the taste of him. Lungs straining, the two unwillingly broke apart, heaving in large gulps of air. Their eyes were locked together, intensity radiating between the both. They had past a point, shifted back to the (Y/N) (Y/L/N) and Ben Solo they once were. One hand slid out from underneath her nightgown to rest on her red cheek. A silent question was written in his eyes and (Y/N) with her swollen lips only kissed up the healed scar on his face in response. She wanted this, she wanted him. 
Ben lifted his plain black tunic over his head, revealing his toned chest to her and she offered him a small smile before placing her hands just below his collarbones. With a mild push, he lowered himself back onto the bed and (Y/N) slid up in his lap. Leaning down over him, she kissed every scar she could find on his skin. The blaster scar on his side, the lightsaber burn on his left shoulder, the scar on the right side of his face that trailed down into his other shoulder, and every exposed inch in between. Soft whimpers escaped past Ben’s lips as he closed his eyes, basking in the feeling of her kissing his scarred skin. With each noise, she could feel his aura emitting compassion and craving. She could also feel his evident arousal pressing into her inner thigh. With a little smirk she moved up to place a chaste kiss back to his reddened mouth.
“I-I love you. I never s-stopped. I-I love you so much.” Ben choked out, his watering eyes staring up at her with such intensity it left (Y/N) a little more breathless than his words. Silently she combed her fingers through his wild hair, watching the faint tears escape from his eyes, her own eyes watering as well. There had been so much pain in their lives without each other, it was overbearing to think of. There were things she would need to learn to overcome, to forgive him for, all things that were possible down their path of redemption, but she could not fight her feelings any longer. She was not positive how she had survived without him for so long, their fates were so meticulously intertwined it was if they were not meant to be parted at all. 
“I may have forgotten but I never stopped either. I knew it the minute I saw you, heard you speak, no matter how hard I fought it, that I loved you. That I still love you.” Her voice was smaller than a whisper as she rested her nose against his, her tears slipping down onto her flushed skin. Ben let out a deep sigh of relief securing her into a sloppy kiss, their faces pressed so close together their tears began to melt together, just as they were.
Still tangled in a messy kiss, he prompted her to sit up to remove her nightgown. Pulling the nightgown over head left her only in her a pair of white lower garments, (Y/N)’s lovely breasts slipping out freely. Panting lowly, Ben moved her to the bed space beside him and lifted himself to his knees to hover over. He placed open mouth kisses to her now exposed skin, carefully paying attention to her scars as well. He started at her right side, the wound she had received because of his men, and then moved to the one on the other side just below her ribcage. The one she had received during a crash landing with Poe back in the early days of their training. He peppered kisses to her hardened nipples, leaving each one with a swirl of his tongue. Ben drifted upwards finding the scar on her neck, the one she had on permanent display from his carelessness, and kissed the healed pink skin. 
As they both kissed each of their scars, they realized something profoundly heart wrenching. Most of their scars had been acquired because they had not been together, but none of them were as painful as the heartache they had experienced apart. (Y/N) may not have remembered Ben until twelve days ago but she had been miserable without her past, without him. So much pain that could have been avoided…
(Y/N) moaned with every kiss left behind by Ben, especially when he moved away from her neck and finally returned to her eager lips. He kissed her with a sweltering passion, as if they were teenagers again hiding behind the temple between lessons. Both of them were dizzy in the heat of the moment, drunk on the tingling sensation radiating through their bodies. They were so touch starved, each kiss and lingering touch was supplying them with an everlasting memory. But they both still wanted, needed more. Fisting his inky black curls, (Y/N) pulled Ben away from her lips to focus on her. His eyes were half lidded with love and lust, his sweet whiskey brown eyes seeming a shade darker. 
“Ben, please.” She pleaded desperately, her core throbbing in need of attention. He only nodded and moved to remove his dark pants and briefs, his hard cock springing free. His was swollen red, bigger than she remembered, his tip coated lightly in precum. Her thoughts were pulled away as she let out a loud whimper, feeling his fingers graze across her slick coated panties. A small smirk worked its way onto Ben’s face, at how much she yearned for his touch. He leaned down and nibbled at the soft insides of her thighs, pressing soothing kisses behind in the wakes of his bites. His long fingers hooked around the waistband of her panties before he yanked them down her legs.
 Ben hissed at the side of her glistening folds, his aura transitioning from want to overwhelmed. (Y/N) could feel it, his painful arousal, his out of control emotions, the Force only adding to the difficulty of the overpowering senses. He had not been this overstimulated since they’re first time together, they both had been. She was affected too, a powerful haze forming around her soul, but she was not coming undone like him. Ben had ignored so many of his emotions for so long and they were all returning at once. He tried to hold his soul together as tears spilled down his reddened cheeks, his breathing sharp.
 “Breathe Ben, its okay. I love you.” (Y/N) reminded him placing a shaking hand to his face, bringing him back from the edge of oblivion. He nodded slowly, wiping the tears away with the back of his hand. Ben took a staggering breath and regained control of his bleeding emotions. He turned his focus back to her slick coated folds, filling her slowly, both of them moaning loudly. His sheer size was unrivaled and (Y/N) had not experienced it in a long time, now it was her turn to be overwhelmed. Ben lowered himself to hover over her, kissing at her skin waiting patiently for her to adjust.
After a few moments, (Y/N) finally nodded and captured Ben in a kiss, confirming she was ready. Ben began to thrust in and out, the pace slow and intimate. They had slept together before in their late padawans days, but this was different. Each thrust, moan, and wet hot kiss was an apology and an act of forgiveness. The room was quiet despite for the moans and the sound of slick coated skin slapping together. (Y/N) held him as close as humanly possible, lips buried in his neck as they both let out breathy moans at each thrust. “I’m not going to last very long.” Ben tried to laugh, but it came out more strangled than he intended for. 
“I won’t either.” (Y/N) sympathized, her hips rolling up to meet his. 
“Fuck.” Ben moaned out, (Y/N)’s head falling back to rest against his. With their foreheads pressed together, eyes closed in ecstasy, they continued to fuse together with an unbreakable love. Balancing his weight on one arm, Ben’s right hand dipped down in between their bodies pressing his thumb against (Y/N)’s clit. He heatedly rubbed fast circles bring her closer to her orgasm.With a few more thrusts (Y/N) came with a shout of euphoria, her walls clenching tighter around Ben’s cock. Tears of pleasure slipped down her face as Ben continued to chase his orgasm, riding out her high. Soon after his hips staggered against hers as he came hard, filling her entirely. With a few lazy thrusts, Ben slacked down onto (Y/N), both of them exhausted. 
Their teary eyes gazed at each other with such fire, such love, it was impossible not to fall apart completely. They were destined and (Y/N) was determined to help save her soulmate. 
“I love you.” They both uttered as they shifted further into one another’s arms, bliss radiating from their auras.
Taglist:
@benpeggycartersolo
@2heures
@thephantomwriter​
@thefandomzoneisdangerous​
@carol-chann​
@gambitsqueen​
@pancakefancake​
@zaneholtzwrites​
@moonmama03
@siren-queen03​
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vidadaily · 4 years
Text
Vida 3x02 Cast Live Tweets (4 /4)
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Ser: How many señoras bring up el Papa Juan Pablo?? Todas!😆 #papajuanpablolife Chelsea: I can’t with their Tia. Like damn🤦‍♀️ Mishel: Yeah... Straight up jacked them!  but I mean.. that was a nice pope plate. Ser: Don’t worry about strangers jacking you, sometimes it’s family😂 Tanya: How many of you have a Tia Magda in your lives? #cleptoTia Mishel: ummm... I might be a Tia Magda 😳 Tanya: But only at weddings and quinceañeras... Mishel: Lol. Yeah. Tonatiuh: This Tia is driving me crazy ajaja she just jacked their house and read them to filth Mishel: "I'm sure you can figure it out mijo" [bear throwing rabbit down gif] Tanya: You KNOW you got chu a Tia Magda in your life! Tonatiuh: Okay but real talk... why is it so expensive to die... like go in debt for your own funeral. That's wild Tonatiuh: "I'm sure you can figure it out!!" EWWW Twitter: Would’ve snatched that pope plate right back Tonatiuh: Would have snatched her wig too
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Tanya: Listen, I'm a diabetic and just like Mari's dad, I can't give conchas up (not conchas, and not Conchas knowhatImean?) that's why this storyline with Mr. Sanchez was so real to us, cuz in the Latinx community we don't take care of our sugar, man! Chelsea: Ay apa... 😭😭😭😭 Tonatiuh: ...... Chelsea, beautiful Chelsea: 🙏 Adrian: Marriiii aka Chelsea breaks my heart😭😭😭 Pobre Chinche! Ser: Oh Mari- 😭😭😭😭😭😭 Vida: Mari never got the chance to make things right 💔
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Vida: There for each other when it counts ❤️ Tanya: But look at how their relationship is growing. That’s true friendship right there, Lynn being there for him while he is so broken. Mishel: This scene killed me.... a complete puddle after this. Esti: seriously... Johnny is a little eyeroll for me in general... but Carlos is one of my fav actors and I hope to work with him again. Ser: The machismo and Marianismo in Latinx culture is so damn toxic... Mira cómo sufre Mari!! Ser: Just hearing Johnny say that about his babygirl and his dying- there goes the tears again 😭😭😭😭 Tonatiuh: Dude... Johnny! Pobrecito Adrian: Johnny messed up, but man I feel for him 😢 Chelsea: I have no words.... Johnny broke me 😭💔 Cara: Damn Johnny... I’m now sobbing. More than Zoe was in that scene. You killed it. Tanya: He brought it! Broke my damn heart! Tanya: 💔 Tanya: Johnny breaks my heart at the end of eposide 2 It was really hard editing this with JoAnne. We couldn't keep from crying everytime. Or at least tearing up. Tanya: This song called CIELO ROJO by Love La Femme which closes the 2nd episode, was on my playlist all along but it took me weeks to re-discover it. When we were working on this scene, I kept telling my lovely music supervisors that I needed cellos. Tanya: I just felt like the severity of the moment required that soul-aching sound. We tried so many songs. Many ALMOST worked but they weren’t quite right. So I dug in my playlist vaults… I just went on a dive and came across “Cielo Rojo.”
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Chelsea: This was me after watching episode 2 for the first time. It was rough. Ser: And I couldn’t look at Chelsea because I’d break down ugly crying. .. 😥😭😭😭😭 Chelsea: The beginning of the panel was a little off for all of us. It took me about 15 mins into the panel to finally stop crying lol Mishel: We were all wrecked. Chelsea: For real Gladys (Writer): I just want to give a shout out to Chelsea and Carlos for taking those emotional scenes to the next level. Chelsea: Thank you so much
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hunterartemis · 5 years
Text
The Assistant: Chapter 10: The Truth Must Perish
Word count: 5207.
Chapter summery: The despair that was brought yesternight have brought a catastrophe that indicates that the Bad must win and the truth must perish.
Chapter Theme: Battle by Martin Phipps : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9KcPmWgllNA
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This is the way the world ends...Not with a bang but a whimper.*
There was blood on the floor, the half-drunk soup was stone cold and the case opened aghast, and Newt was sunk on the floor with his Lanvin couture still on him. He couldn’t life any of his present limbs to wipe his nonstop tears, and a sharp jab of pain was constantly pulsing near his diaphragm. When the snowy morning cast a white sunlight inside his apartment, it felt like a cruel mockery. 
In the moment of tomblike stealth, he felt something warm and wet upon his face that wasn’t his ever drenching tears. A blunt and flat beak was nipping at his face—he turned and saw his niffler snuggling upon him, of all his intelligent and brilliant beasts, his crafty little bugger, the niffler broke out of its cage, just to comfort him. Upon the despair, the presence of the creature brought a smile upon his face.
“So it’s you niffy...”  Newt took him in his arms and started to pet him, and watched how it’s nostrils quivered and it’s beady eyes blinked in a certain inquisition, as if to ask ‘what’s the matter with you?’ Newt blinked with a saddened smile, trying to reply to the silent question, but he couldn’t—he couldn’t tell himself what he needed to hear, then how will he do that to this creature.
‘She is gone niffy... she will never come back.’ Newt’s callous hand tried to caress the small fluffy back of the niffler, and he could feel the rejection of the small creature under his palm; as if its skin was creeping into its own skeleton. Suddenly with a jerk the niffler crawled of and dived into the case and with a fine chink something shiny fell out of its pouch.
The diamond necklace dazzled in faint blue, pink and yellow under the pale morning light, its incredible beauty wasn’t marred even though a speck of viscose blood stained its side. It lay there like some shiny outer skin, newly shed by a dark creature. It was tangled within in its own strings of pearls and panels of silver, as if trying to comprehend what it was to do other than to grace the beautiful neck of the duchess.
What is diamond without a beauty?
What is a beauty without diamond?
What is a diamond without dazzle? It is cold, hard and impenetrable.
“She just lost her sparkle that’s all...” Newt mumbled.
Suddenly a gust of wind and a crisp slap landed on the back of his head. Newt who was quite unnerved and exhausted in both mental and physical manner, landed on the floor, hitting his face really hard. And with the gust of effect, his case also snapped shut.
“Tell me you’ve answers...” a female voice angrily snapped. Newt pulled up his face with immense difficulty, and saw a pair of skinny ankles wearing light blue flowery pyjamas and looked up to meet the tall stature of Tina Goldstein towering over Newt with her face flushed with immense rage. As his vision settles he saw, she was clutching a newspaper in her hand. She didn’t look well, it wasn’t the puppy faced disappointment she had when she met him in Paris, nor was it the despair of yesternight. It was pure rage and fear that sent sparks in her beady dark eyes.
“Tina you...” then his eyes fell on the heading of the paper. Without standing up, he straightened his back and took the paper from Tina’s hands, and as soon as he read the headlines, cold sweats started to form on his brows. He threw his unkempt bangs slightly and intently looked at the bold black lines, scrawled across the parchment; like some gruesome bruise on virgin skin.
NEWT SCAMANDER, WANTED FOR THE UNLAWFUL SEDUCTION OF THE NEWLY ENGAGED DUCHESS OF CROY.
The midnight pain in the diaphragm that plagued Newt all night came back and slowly he found it very difficult to stay straight “What time it is?” Newt mumbled with immense difficulty and tried to wipe his face. In an attempt to stay calm, he slowly looked at his wall clock he whispered “it’s 7 in the morning; the Daily Prophet isn’t released until nine... where you got that?”
“Pinched it from the press itself” Tina replied agitatedly, “Actually no--” Tina tried to concentrated, “the junior editor called me up fifteen minutes ago in my dorm--”
“In your dorm? Where is your dorm--”
“Under the Atrium building you bub... don’t you know there is a reserve dorm for the office holders and guests—anyway, this Junior editor, well—I saw him for a couple of month when I heard about your engagement with Leta—but anyhow, he came to my room and gave me this, apparently someone followed you or Maxine--”
“Me or Maxine?”
“would you stop interrupting me--” Tina exclaimed angrily, “anyway, someone followed you and got this footage and suddenly all the ministry went outraged and there was a Wizengamot session at three-o-clock and all this mess—long story short, an arrest warrant has being issued under your name--”
“What did I do? She was drunk and seriously ill when I found her... I didn’t detect anyone; there was no one in the building--”
“WELL APPARANTLY THERE WAS!” Tina bellowed, “I knew from the moment I saw her... I knew she was a bad news--”
“Don’t be ridiculous Tina--”
“Ridiculous?” Tina picked up the paper from the ground, “is this look ridiculous to you? You committed High Treason against British Ministry, this is worse than Queenie joining Grindlewald... I swear to Isolde’s hair, you are a complete idiot!”
“I didn’t commit anything... she is my employee and I was just helping her--”
“Employee?” Tina folded her arms sarcastically, “which part of the official records says she is your employee? She is a Duchess by birth and her father, the French Diplomat can skin you alive. And besides, Theseus told me, you cannot defend yourself since you have illegally employed her.” Tina huffed in exasperation, “she never submitted her official End of Service notice, and therefore she is still under the protection of Article 51A, and you just became a felon by law.”
Newt had nothing to say. He felt like he was being trapped into an acromantula web and the head of the hollow was coming for its flesh. He tried to breathe slowly after sitting on the couch. Tina was still fuming and pacing throughout his living room. Her nervous pants echoed throughout the room like a sound in a claustrophobic space, magnifying everytime.
“Theseus is trying to minimise the press... he is trying to convince the editor not to print this in the paper, because his job is on the line too—but your warrant is ready to be released—Newt think of something, what you can do to defend yourself, is there anything you can do, or call anyone for that matter?” her cheeks and nose glowed red in agitation and her voice grew more hoarse. Her tall figure, to Newt’s ken looked grim against the morning light. Newt’s blue-green eyes went vague and glassy, his mind was swimming and for that he couldn’t respond to that, he remained quiet for a long time. After that Tina started to break down, “that’s it... you are gone—nothing can save you! And with you, I will be gone too--”
“Why would you go? You didn’t do anything?” Newt tried to comfort her, but there was no comfort in Tina’s eyes. She looked up from her hands that hid her tear stained face, “I may not have do anything, but I won’t leave you anytime soon, knowing that the reason you are in this position is the bitch--”
“It is a misunderstanding Tina, and I WON’T ALLOW YOU TO BADMOUTH HER LIKE THIS--”
Tina stood up from the sofa, looking at Newt with disbelief, her face was livid and tear stream was running across her face. But suddenly, the fireplace blazed in lurid emerald flames, Newt and Tina stood back in surprise as a head started to appear in the fireplace.
“Theseus has been arrested, they are coming for you... quick, do what you--”
Before they could recognise the person, Newt and Tina heard several whoosh of apparating wizards around their house, and then Newt happened to notice what was exactly wrong with him, and the realisation almost petrified him, as if there was a basilisk standing in front of him. He slowly recalled everything: Tina was inside, and yesterday Maxine disapparated from his room, so clearly the anti-apparation charm was failing. There was plenty of danger if a ministry wizard came in: first of all, his case, which they would have confiscate in a matter of second on a minute excuse, second was his basement which was enhanced with undetectable extension charm, a deed that was against the law of Wizarding Property and Magical Enhancement; Maxine did warn him about this, but Newt never thought that it would happen so soon. 
His mind was divided in two places: firstly protecting his beasts and their whereabouts, it wouldn’t be pleasant if the New York incident happened again, and then he steadily wondered who and how delivered this obvious false piece of news to the ministry. There was a high chance that someone from Maxine’s family or the French ministry charged against Newt, but the possibility of Anatole Malfoy stalking Maxine’s steps did not completely vanished from his mind. Moreover, Maxine was very afraid, in fact exceptionally afraid around Anatole, and she did admit that it was for him she left her Auror’s job—but why Newt and Tina? There was a mystery that wasn’t adding up. If Theseus is arrested then their last line of defense is gone—Anatole must be behind this and he was operation out of sexual jealousy.
The footsteps outside grew closer and closer; both of them felt themselves surrounded. From the corner of the eye, Newt saw Tina fondling her golden locket that preserved a picture of her and her mother. Suddenly, her hand slipped from the golden locket, and firmly held onto Newt. He could her voice; it wasn’t fumbling with nervousness, there was a desperate calmness in that tear drenched voice that can only come to someone when their backs are at the wall, “You must not let them reach the basement... now listen to what I say--”
“Newton Artemis Fido Scamander... by the Order of the British Ministry, you are charged with a matter of Illegal affair with the Duchess of Croy, Maxine Adrienne Odessa Valois--” a sonorous voice called out from outside of the door. At first Newt wondered why they were calling him when they could have rammed the door or just directly apparated inside, but then again, he understood that an anti-apparition charm was already on effect.
“—They’re here....” Tina’s voice firmed up even more, and Newt felt a small pressure before the battalion march of the Aurors stopped at the doorstep—any moment now.
“—on the count of three, we will come inside, do not attempt to resist or retaliate--”
“Tina... I think you should leave now--” Newt took his mouth to Tina’s ears, but instead of scampering back, she smiled at him, and her hand firmed even more upon his, if Newt wore the cuffs, so would she.
“I may have not danced with you Mr. Scamander, but I will sure wear the same cuffs and hear the same sentence as you--”
After the agonising three seconds, like the army of death, the ministry wizards rammed Newt’s front door. The one at the front had an awfully familiar face. “Mr. Charlemagne?” Newt asked in a flabbergasted manner, and the wizard looked at him with a queer eye. As if he wasn’t in his will to do this, and it terribly saddened him to arrest Newt. After a brief pause, an unwilling smile graced upon his lips, framed with a Papillion moustache, “how strange are the circumstances Mr. Scamander that we are meeting this way... Clement Charlemagne sir, and it’s a pleasure to finally meet you--”
“Please Mr. Charlemagne, don’t do this... we are innocent, we know nothing about this--” Tina implored to Clement in a most desperate manner, but his honest eyes showed that over his personal opinion, he placed his duty towards the ministry, and in a reluctant manner he cuffed the hands of Tina and Newt.
“You are Newton Artemis Fido Scamander? And you, Porpentina Esther Goldstein?” he asked solemnly, as they both nodded. “Good... you will be identified by your superiors Mr. Abernathy and Mr. Augustus Worme furthermore. I hearby arrest you on behalf of the French and British ministry--”
“Wait what--?” Tina asked abruptly, “What do you mean by French and British ministries--”
“There are many things Miss Goldstein, which are better not be revealed. Trust me it will break your heart--” Clement came dragging them both out of the flat, ready to be apparated to the designated spot where they could go to the Atrium. But before they could leave, Newt desperately sought after the question Tina just asked.
“Who ordered our arrest Charles--” he used the name Maxine called him last night, “who have such a power to arrest us both?”
“The Duchess...”
...
Across the sea, in the middle of the Seine River, in a tall stone chamber, Maxine’s eyes fluttered opened into a nearly unfamiliar scene. Her compact London flat had somehow whirled into a lavish golden-and-pastel baroque room which may have awestruck any commoner, but sent a chill in her bones, suddenly she felt an old fear creeping in her heart and with that all the remaining traces of drowsiness left her eyes. She looked outside the window and the views confirmed her fear; she was in the most infamous place in the whole of France, not only known by the wizards but also muggles: the Conciergerie, a place that stood against everything that was human, the royal prison, and this place was ‘acclaimed’ by the Valois when the last queen of France Marie Antoinette was beheaded in the guillotine. Conciergerie*, the Paris estate of the Valois is the place where Maxine spent all her childhood, and underneath this exact room, a muggle queen was stripped all of her dignity and pride to be set an example that she was nothing. Conciergerie, what better place to bring Maxine Valois to remind her of her status? Her head hurt really badly, as if she had rammed her head several times on cold hard marble, and her body felt incredibly light, warm and fuzzy, as if there was something cloudlike all over her body.
She shook off the satin futons from her torso and looked down to see that she was no longer wearing that murky, stout and warm corduroy dressing gown that was soiled with vomit, blood and her own defeat, but in pink fur that smelled of gold, pride and status. As if a vacuum created in her heart and the turbulence of her blood set in, she remembered that the unknown shore she was swept in, that dressing gown was the only anchor to her previous world. Now it is gone, there is no chance of seeing it again. That soft lacy pink of that fur felt like cannibalising flesh upon her very skin and for the first time in a long time, her blood remembered the old feudal rage that burned many, and destroyed many. She jumped from her bed and slammed the giant wooden door open and started to stomp across the massive medieval corridors in such a tremendous force that all the house-elves that were working disillusioned themselves and the human attendants made themselves scarce in case they are trampled in her fury.
“c'est quoi cette merde?” (what is this shit?) Maxine drawled after slamming herself into the breakfast parlour, where three women were having tea and gossiping with silvery laugh. At Maxine’s arrival they cast a brief patronising look at them, and the oldest of the three put her cup gently on the short table and put on a forceful smile.
“And good morning to you...” she said in a pleasant voice.
“Ah... Saint Marguerite, haven’t see you in a while” Maxine replied with a cruel smile and sauntered towards her. Supporting herself on the glass top table, she leaned on her and asked, “how is your cousin...oops, your husband--” and gave a satisfactory smile when she cringed at her, “so nice to see you when you’re not sucking my old man up.”
“Mademoiselle Maxine...” Marguerite stood up, pulling her entire Bell-epoch authoritarian figure to the fullest extend and her neatly arranged red hair high, as if to stand against the unjust that Maxine was causing, “do not forget that he is your father, and I am your mother.”
“Oh please... do forgive yourself for a moment” Maxine waved her words around, “you are the very reason that I was born. It’s your fault that my father went with my mother, because he wasn’t happy with you know—fucking his sister.” Maxine paused and enjoyed the conflicted look on Marguerite’s matronly face that oscillated from humiliation to rage, and Maxine did no effort to hide her delight.
“Sometimes I am so glad that you grew up to be so observant, but Maxine, do you happen to know why your mother left you alone?” Marguerite asked with composure and watched Maxine’s smile disappearing.
“Don’t speak to me like that old hag, you are just a--”
“If you speak another word again maman, I cannot guarantee that your dignity will not be violated--” a reddish blonde woman with very pale skin and Slavic feature stood up against Maxine, and her icy blue eyes glowered towards her.
“Hello Sveta, didn’t notice you were there—and how’s the marriage going with Lance” Maxine straightened up and smirked. It felt more like a greeting than an insult, because the next moment Sveta, or Svetlana, Maxine’s older sister-in-law drew a smile upon her uncannily symmetrical Slavic face, and came to kiss Maxine.
“Bonjour Masha...” she gently grabbed her face and gave her a glowing look. Svetlana had this habit of calling Maxine ‘Masha’, a Russian diminutive that queerly sounded both affectionate and condescending. Out of the three Maxine had patience only for Svetlana because she had a no-nonsense attitude and cared less about being ‘ladylike’. Svetlana smiled again to praise Maxine, “glad you are taking the drinking business seriously--” Sveta shook her head in such a manner that from under her waved tucked in bob, the pearl droplets caught the morning light. And in that smile in her face, Maxine sensed something out of the normal. She knew those earrings, those were her grandmother’s the Duchess of Croy, whose title she was given. Those precious baroque pearls were now dangling on Sveta’s ears, and it was an indication enough to convey that her position was reducing on the Valois estate already.
“What drinking business? It’s been eight hours in a weekday... isn’t that normal for a human being, and besides I had always had the stronger stomach--”
“—more like seventy-eight hours...” another voice spoke from the couch, and looked at Maxine with her protruding gray eyes that had dark shadows underneath it. She was giggling to herself, barely managing to keep her posture correct with her enormous stomach. After an episode of giggling and fondling her stomach, she cast a glassy look towards her sister-in-law as if to assert a new level of patronization upon her. Maxine returned that look with her usual crooked smirk that wiped the smile off the pregnant woman. Elena de Orsini, the younger daughter-in-law of the Valois, after two miscarriages and a trip to the Hopital de Dymphna, she was finally able to get pregnant, and now she was silently conveying Maxine that with the true heir on board, she will usurp her position.
“Oh darling...” Marguerite mused with concern which sounded like mockery in Maxine’s ears. She turned towards her stepmother quickly with the word, and the intensity of her expression put caution in Maxine’s face, “didn’t anyone tell you?” Marguerite asked plainly. She waited for Maxine to reply, but nothing came out of her mouth. Marguerite’s brows crinkled in worry and she started to shake her head, “oh dear, o dear... you sincerely do not know?”
“Can you cut the chase and come clear now St. Margaret, before I slap your parchment face?” Maxine snarled and Marguerite came a little closer to her and told that she has been unconscious for nearly three days. Marguerite received a call from someone at very early in the morning, and Lampito, her elf brought Maxine in the Conciergerie, crossing all the portkeys.
“And do you know the best part, dear sister?” Elena stood up with difficulty, straightening her sheath-like dress and her protruding eyes glowed with a covert excitement, “your very good friends and benefactors got arrested—oh, what was the name, Oh yes—Scamander and—Scamander” Elena’s giggles that followed poured like hot lead in Maxine’s ears. She carefully screened the faces of the three women that were sitting in front of her, all of them held a peculiar look, as if they were looking at her with a condescending eye, for not knowing something she should have known already. Elena again continued, “I think the order of the universe is finally restoring, don’t you think maman, I mean—it’s a shame that our sister used to work with the filthy lowbred auror when she could have had—anything in the world, and now when she is getting married with the Malfoy family, everything is back in order—I think they should bring back the guillotine and put an end to all those audacious muggles lives--” Elena paused in her musing and veered her ghostly eyes towards Maxine “It still a mystery to me—how come that beast hunter managed to seduce you? But, I don’t blame you ma chere... I mean you cannot really ignore your true nature—you know what they say, like mother like daughter--”
Before Elena could finish, Maxine was pointing her ivory wand towards her sister-in-law’s full belly, and in reaction Svetlana raised her wand up on Maxine’s throat and Marguerite looked like as if she Maxine just murdered someone. With the corner of her Maxine inspected Svetlana’s wand tip and her anger came out in a whispering vapour of poison.
“You should be careful Hélène... there is a long way from the womb to the world, and anything could happen between the two” Maxine’s eyes were getting redder with every passing moment, and her ferocity reduced Elena into a whimpering mess, “if you spew any more lies about me or any of my friends, I not sure I could be a model aunt for that unborn child of yours--”
“She’s not lying...” Marguerite replied with regained composure, and fearfully picked up the paper from underneath the tea-table. With caution she handed Maxine Les Temps Magiques* where it was clearly said that “The Duchess of Croy, Maxine Valois gets Newt Scamander, the celebrated beast hunter arrested for unlawful seduction. Auror and brother Theseus Scamander is also apprehended in suspicion--”
“What is this?” Maxine thundered after throwing the paper across the room, “what is this joke?”
“Why don’t you ask your father?” Marguerite said in a reserved tone.
“Oh believe me, I would--”
Maxine then threw away that fur robe she had been wearing, and in the pink underrobe, she strutted across the hall and into Hrothgar’s chamber in full rage. The pain she had felt after losing the corduroy robe was worsened into something that told her in her face that she had now lost the only good people she knew in her life. When she opened the door, Hrothgar lifted his face and looked at her as if he was already expecting her.
“Viens, ma chere... guess you’ve found out” he said with such an ease that it Maxine’s blood boil, she stomped her hands on his large oak table and looked at her father, who looked back at her with an indifference and a mild annoyance as if he was an employer and Maxine an employee who was out of her limits, he cast a brief glance upon her and smiled his usual well rehearsed cordial smile, “consider this a wedding present.”
“Wedding present? Oh, I didn’t know that I was being married—I thought I was brought here so that you could prepare me for the execution--”
“Maxine—do have a care with your fiancée.” Hrothgar expressed with a mild annoyance, “he is a pureblood and of good family, and he expressed to me how much he is in love with you. Besides, I know about your little liaison with that Theseus Scamander. It wasn’t hard to understand that he was in love with you--”
“What—what did you say?” Maxine’s face changed its course from turbulent anger to a surprise. She couldn’t believe what her father was saying to her. It could not be true—Theseus Scamander of all people, loved her? This can’t be true—it was always infuriatingly one-sided, it was Maxine who pined for him always, and he was the one who disregarded her. He didn’t understand her feelings and never acknowledged her—she was the winner when she walked away from him, moving on and saving him from Anatole’s poison—no, no her father must be lying. But was he lying? Rothbart Valois is never wrong when it comes to people—that’s what makes him so very infuriatingly good. Her eyes felt unusually foggy and burning, her jaw slouched and every rib in her chest started to contract, to squeeze every ounce of breath out of her lungs, but her ears heard Hrothgar speaking, “—it wasn’t just cordiality that he couldn’t mention that you no longer work for him anymore. Even in the dinner table, he kept staring at your direction; his eyes moved every direction that light from your diamond necklace shone... I know that look, and I know what mayhem it can bring--” Hrothgar looked meaningfully to his daughter, “you must not make my mistake Maxine--”
Her senses were numbed already, but despite that a sense of shame was washed upon Maxine, “do you mean my mother then, Monsignor? Then you must think that me being alive is a mistake--”
“I never said it like that--”
“Then end my life My Lord—end the job you left twenty years ago—the one you procrastinated with your mark—do it, end my suffering--” Maxine screamed in agony,
“Calm yourself--” Hrothgar snapped irritably in such a patronising way that not only it belittled Maxine, but also made a fool out of herself, “—but why his brother, monsignor, what did he do?” Maxine straightened up, struggling to gather herself from the humiliation of expression pain before an unfeeling listener, “why him—what did he do? And why take my name to announce the good job? Always the saints aren’t you, you and Marguerite? Never getting your hands dirty and making me the angry fool... ”
“He was simply in the way--” the veil of decorum finally fell from Hrothgar’s face, and the person who was looking at his daughter was a cruel Machiavellian who thinks people as pieces on a chessboard “Newt Scamander—shame on you Maxine Valois! Lying to me through your teeth while you were stirring scuts with that lowly beast hunter—the time when you should be feeling proud that you showed the people like him and his example of a brother their rightful places. I have dug them deep, some place from where they cannot escape—and you are blaming me? I did everything for you—I gave you everything, despite everything--”
“It is my sovereign right sir that I am aware of the actions that are committed under my name--”
“YOUR SOVEREIGN RIGHT WAS TO BE DISGRACED AS A BASTARD OF A MUDBLOOD--” Hrothgar’s screamed on top of his lungs and the force of that voice threw Maxine off her foot. But then, she wasn’t someone who would just take anyone’s lip—she always faced times like this, and she learned to evoke who she was after so many trials and errors that her pretence of being unaffected was almost natural.
“Where have you put them Monsignor? The bottom cells of Azkaban with hoodless dementors to suck their soul instantly” Maxine’s eyes were full and her voice shook with despair with tears filled to the brim.
“Don’t be a nincompoop...” Hrothgar answered with the same indifferent irritability, “they are the property of French Ministry now--” Hrothgar put his quill down and looked at Maxine’s tearful bloodshot eyes with a subtle victorious look, “I am happy to announce that they are currently in the Geôlier of Tour de Silence, and if you have exceptionally good luck—a trait you have inherited in birth, you would be walking down the aisle upon their graves”
With that news Maxine stood breathless for a moment, and then her despair surfaced with sudden howl. That brief bellowing of grief wasn’t only a representative of how the greatest people in Maxine’s life was stripped away from her, and will be soon from life, but it was also an outburst of rage that concealed itself covertly in grief. Maxine put her hand away from mouth that was clamped tight to stop her from whimpering and then she looked at her father with the same expression with which he looked at his daughter few minutes ago.
“Let me remind you sir--” Maxine said in a low and threatening voice, “you are committing a mistake that would cost you your biggest this time. You’ve sold your queen to the wrong knight, and it’s the matter of time that you would be pawned and sold like a brood mare, like you are doing to me now” Maxine slammed the door shut behind her as she stormed out the rooms of her father. The daylight upon her face and the fading bustle of Paris seemed like the gossips of the aristocrats against the unfortunate muggle queen that walked these doors. Maxine never thought she would relate to her muggle roots so much—so this is how must have her biological mother felt when she walked through the halls of the Châteaux d'If*, this is how must have Marie Antoinette felt when she was dragged for her execution, in all humiliation and hopelessness. She started to walk away from that awful corridor to someplace quiet—someplace where she could bleed in quiet, where she could laugh at her own tragedy, the mistake that made her lose the one thing she cared most for. She walked right into Anatole’s trap, and this time she lost Theseus and Newt together.
Tags: @my-current-fandom-is
This is a chapter that exposes how privilege and power can corrupt and usurp good people. I intend to present a part of Maxine’s family here, and I seriously do not condone any questionable action Maxine does in here. take the characters as impartially as you can.
This is how the world ends... : lines from T.S. Eliot’s poem, The Hollow Men.
Conciergerie: a castle in the ‘Isle of the City’, Paris, formerly a prison but presently used mostly for law courts. It was part of the former royal palace, the Palais de la Cité, which consisted of the Conciergerie, Palais de Justice and the Sainte-Chapelle. Hundreds of prisoners during the French Revolution were taken from the Conciergerie to be executed by guillotine at a number of locations around Paris. From 1914, it was opened for public and tourists with a great deal of the buildings sealed off (Medieval parts). I imagine that the places that are ‘out of order’ for muggle public, are used as a wizarding residence by the Valois. It was made during the Capet dynasty (parent house of the Valois), so I guess Valois will use it as house. I specifically wanted this place to be portrayed to show the parallels between Newt and company’s imprisonment and the imprisonment of Maxine in her own home.
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Hopital de Dymphna : Dymphna is the patron saint of madness and insanity, and Hopital de Dympha is a medieval style asylum that I imagined for the French Wizards, where the victims would be tortured out of insanity.
Les Temps Magiques : The Wizarding Times, a French Equivalent of The Daily Prophet
Geôlier of Tour de Silence: Jail of the Tower of Silence, I have taken the terms from different places, “ Geôlier“ is the French term for prison Vessel, the kind you see Jean Valjean was kept in the Les Miserables, and the “Tower of Silence“ is the Zoroastrian ‘gravesite‘ where the Zoroastrian people leave the dead to rot in open sun and rain up on a high tower. They believe that dead body is the house of evil and by aquamation, burial and cremation they would respectively corrupt the water, earth and holy fire (which they worship). I intend to write elaborately on the French Wizarding Prison in the next chapter, and reveal its history.
Châteaux d'If: The Château d'If is a fortress (later a prison) located on the island of If, the smallest island in the Frioul archipelago situated in the Mediterranean Sea about 1.5 kilometres offshore in the Bay of Marseille in southeastern France. It was the place Maxine was born, and it is a reclaimed property by the Valois family.
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Octavio Is Live: And Drunk ||Octane On Loss||
||Welcome, Octavio Silva, you are now streaming. Say hello!||
The cheery words had Octane seething as he fixed his camera, dropping back into his super plush beanbag chair, grinning up at the camera and giving his signature rock sign.
“What’s uuup. Another drunken stream! Whoo!” he threw his hands up, yelping as some beer got on him with the motion, whining as he wiped it off.
Prior to the stream, he had three shots of tequila, this being his sort of way of tracking his thoughts. He could do holo logs or a diary, but he liked to be transparent, even if it hurt like a bitch.
He knew his experiences helped people, so why not give them this chance to see him with all his guards down, mask and goggles at his neck, looking like he just touched down from his recent solo win.
And he looked like hell.
“So! First question is the hot topic for this stream, choose wisely, amigos!” he grinned, because that was all he knew to do, to hide and protect himself.
The computer registered the first line of text with a little question mark beside it, and his heart sank instantly as he bit his lip, taking a long swig of his beer then sighed.
“Way to hit home, amigo, I’m sorry.” he sounded pained as he shifted, smile wavering.
“Miroctaneluver101 says; Hey, good game. I’m sorry, I hope this doesn’t get the top, but I’m honestly kinda feeling down in the dumps. I just lost my grandfather and I’m honestly feeling like life isn’t worth it. He was everything, the one thing to hold me up, to make me proud. The only person in my family to understand me. Have you dealt with loss, and if so, what do you do to cope?” his voice was shattering as he read the message, cursing as he rubbed at his face, ridding himself of the tears as he stood, walking off camera with a tiny sound of pain.
He kicked something, watched it burst across the stream and into the other side, off screen, to clatter against the wall. He returned with a tall glass of scotch this time, dropping into his seat with a sigh. He could see a billion messages of support to the person and worried comments to him, to which he took a swig and licked his lips.
“Where to get started, huh? First of all, please don’t kill yourself. You have so much to live for! Your life has just begun!” he set the drink down, leaning forward into his ‘Serious Papi Octavio’ mode, twin coloured eyes hard as they looked right into the camera.
“You are amazing as you are. I am sure your abuelo would be so proud of you.” he felt the tears and blinked them away, firm and sharp in his resolve. “If anyone says otherwise, tries to tell you to change, that you’re not worth it, fuck ‘em! They aren’t worth your time, your breath, your attention nor your life. Get rid of them, right away.” he flopped back, fetching his drink on the way down, with a huff, sinking into the plush embrace.
“As for loss? Not talking games here for a lightening effect, but... My great grandfather, Fuego Silva.... The only Silva I cared for... He was... Everything to me.” he looked to his glass, turning it over as he swallowed hard.
“Growing up... Well, you’ve seen what I could show you, the first camera, the first vlog? Was because of Fuego.” he smiled now, taking a swig of the amber liquid. “He loved it. Loved getting to see me as much as he could, even when he was away... He used to fight, god, it feels like an eternity now.” he laughed as he remembered back to the past.
“I told him I wanted to be a star, and he gave me this rinky dinky little thing, shit focus, terrible memory and even worse pixelage. Like we are talking using a potato for a camera would be better!” he chuckled, grinning into the glass. “But Fuego always loved it, would send it to him on the fringes of space in his vessel, so he’d have something to wake up to, something to pump him up.” he ran a hand through his hair as he laid back, splayed out for his fans to see.
“Mr and Mrs Silva were always... They weren’t great. It’s why I was taken into the Diablo Del Alma’s so early on in life. I remember the day I broke the camera. I was doing a dumb stunt, jumping off a roof, something small. I landed on it, and it broke rather than my arm. Fuego was grateful I wasn’t hurt, but my heart was broken. That was my camera, and a gift from him.” he felt the tears itch at his eyes, so he just closed them, lifting his head to take a long swig before returning to his slumped position.
“I remember the whole crew pitched in to get me a top of the line model, fit with different lens options and even slow motion at the flick of your eyes. It even had a high quality stabiliser built in that could be turned off. They almost didn’t make it, but Fuego pitched in the last hundred and said ‘to my rising star’, even engraved it on a panel on it himself.” he jolted, snapping up and scrambling around, finding the camera and returned, holding the piece up to show his fans, the intricate designs around the words written in both English and Spanish.
He then dropped into the chair with his camera in hand, tracing the words.
“He was there from day one... Even when he was out fighting... Everytime he came home, we livestreamed, made videos, we did everything together. He was practically my padre.” he smiled and sighed, hugging the camera as he laid back. “He would always say, ‘Octavio Silva. Siempre debes recordar esta frase. Nunca te rindas y nunca te rindas.‘ Always remember this phrase, never give up and never give in.” he closed his eyes again, living in the memories, even as they brought tears to his eyes.
“He used to tell me if I dreamed it I could do it. Pushed me beyond my limits. Even gave me my first tattoo!” he flapped his arm, a bright grin on his face. “I was so scared, but he said the words as he started, and it’s been my mantra. It’s why I never give up, no matter how helpless it is.” he sat up suddenly, looking to the camera in his lap.
“Fuego... He.... He got sick. Like real sick. The last few years, he was in the hospital. I would stream, you guys know this, with him still. He pushed for me to break the record. I knew his time was short, so... I improvised.” he laughed, something hollow this time. “I’m told he died with a proud smile on his face.” the tears were falling now, the pain lancing through him, but he shook his head firmly, wiping them away.
“My last talk, I told him of the Apex Games, of how I longed to be in them, of how it was my dream to have a banner of me! I told him there was no way I’d be able to, and he turned me to him. He told me those words again. I laughed and said ‘maybe after I break this record’. I woke with no legs, and no Fuego. I thought my life was ruined.” he slumped down, then slapped his leg with a huff, running fingers over the intricate metal.
“Ajay Che, she and I go way back. Beautiful woman, but not my type. Too.... Well, you all know I’m a trans gay guy, so... Yeah.” he smiled shyly and idly brushed the engravings. “She heard about everything, asking my Diablo Del Alma Padre what happened recently. When she found me, I was in a wheelchair craddling the helmet he wore, staring at a gravestone in the rain.” his throat threatened to close and he swallowed, taking a shaky breath.
“I still say I guilted her. I just started talking and talking, about the dreams, about my promise to Fuego that nothing would stop me, and now here I was, completely in lockdown.” he wiped his face again with a growl of frustration.
“But the second I got those legs, I was off, even if I fell over at first. I wasn’t going to give up. I had been harassing the nurses with zooming around in the wheelchair.” he laughed at the memory, remembering the laughter in their voices. “So, do I know loss? Yeah, I do. I experience it every time I go into the ring and watch my friends die. I know they are safe, some wicked tech they have in the background, allowing us a second chance... As long as we have something for them to fix.” he laughed and shrugged.
“As for coping? Reach out. You have a whole community here who will hear you out. Go out, and do something for yourself. Write, draw, paint, sing, dance, run, swim, anything, the world is your playground, so play. Hell, I know someone who was tricked into eating a whole cake in one sitting by a personality in their head. They were vomiting for hours, but they chose to live if only to ensure he never got cake again.” he laughed and shook his head.
“It’s hard. Trust me, the first few months are the worst. Then it’s the first couple anniversaries. I take a drink for Fuego on the day he moved up to better things. His favourite. Doing something like that to honour them is never bad. Take pride in your joys, and do them. I know a writer, the same one about the cake thing actually. He suffers from... A lot. Suicide is almost always on his mind, constantly itching at him, making him want to just say ‘fuck it’ and be done. But he finds a keyboard or a pen and paper, and writes instead. It’s messy and all over the place, but he is proud, because he’s survived the wave.” he shifted to look at the camera, tears clear, now done with hiding it.
“And that’s what it is, its waves. And sometimes you need everyone to hold you up over it all, and it’s terrifying to do that. Fuck, I don’t even do it. I usually drink and drown in all the things I shouldn’t do, stand on cliffs, half kicking my landing gear off before I even know what I’m doing. And it fucking sucks because all I want is a fucking hug, to be craddled close, to have my hair smoothed and to be told it’ll be alright.” he tugged at his hair before sighing, smoothing it back.
“But I’m scared to trust, because trust means people can stab you in the back, trust means investing yourself in someone, which means their life is my world. I don’t think I could survive another Fuego.” he took a shaky breath and smiled, something so worn out and tired as he pulled up a holoscreen, swiping through things.
“Believe me. It does get better. Not by much, but it becomes bearable. You find ways to live each day in honour of those we’ve lost, who can’t witness the day. dont beat yourself into the ground and ruin yourself like I have in the past. Remember, you are worth it. And if no one else is gonna say it, then listen to me right now.” he looked to the camera, eyes alight with a fire as he stood up, leaning close so they could see him in the whole monitor.
“I am proud of you. You are amazing and perfect as you are. Non terre plus ultra, and never give up, never give in. You have got this!” he fist pumped the air before sticking his tongue out and giving his signature hand sign.
Then, he dropped back into his seat.
“Go check out the song I’m about to share to the stream. It’s a big pick me up that I use. That and Ska, but that’s a little out there for this moment.” he laughed as he threw up the songs. “It’ll play in a sec. After it, we are doing never have I ever!” he grinned and threw back a swig of the amber liquid, bouncing up to get more booze.
||Octavio Silva Has Shared A Song.... Playing now....|| ||The Stream Will Return Shortly....||
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i-think-2-much · 6 years
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Prompt 3/3 it’s like trying to hold the ocean back with a broom
I had been listening to Unsteady by X-ambassadors because it got stuck in my head when I read this prompt, and I was watching Voltron, so...
Lance leaped into action. He shot down Galra like he was a high-tech hawkeye. Another shot, another hit. Every shot was a hit. He was Lance, not some stormtrooper. He was the team’s sharpshooter, and he was not going to let his team get hurt.
Keith had had Lance climb to a outcropping vent shaft, where he was currently squatting twenty or thirty feet above his team. Normally on missions like this, Lance would sit somewhere high and be ready to cover his teammates at any moment, but there would be no conflicts. That didn’t happen this time.
Every Galra in the warship must’ve shown up. Someone probably triggered a silent alarm. Lance had yelled for his team to go while he covered him, but his team refused to leave him.
So here they were, with the team slashing through the Galra like they were made of butter, but they couldn't keep it up. It was like holding back the ocean with a broom. More and more kept coming, and their supply seemed endless. Even from here Lance could see the tiredness in Keith’s steps and Hunk’s sluggish movements. They needed to evacuate soon, but all their exits were covered. They were trapped. They were going to need a better plan.
Lance shot down another Galra that was getting too close to Pidge for his liking.
Keith panted into his helmet,”We need to retreat,”he ordered through the comms as he slashed at another alien.
“They have all our exits covered,”Lance reported,”The easiest escape route would be the same way we came.”
Pidge’s body momentarily froze before she resumed hacking Galra apart,”Lance they see you. They’re going to--”
Lance felt a burning sensation in his side. His skin stung and bubbled as a hole formed just under his ribcage. The pain flooded through his body. It burned. It ache. It took all Lance’s willpower not to scream as the velocity of the blast sent him flying backwards. His back hit the metal wall with bone breaking speed before he crumpled on the floor, landing on a few surprised Galra.
Yelling filled up the comms, but Lance wasn’t paying enough attention to listen. His head hurt really bad from when it was slammed against solid metal. He had landed on his arm REALLY wrong. Everything hurt. Everything burned, but Lance wasn’t going to die in a little firefight.
He tried to pick up his gun and grimace through the pain of moving his left hand, but the second the gun’s weight rested on it, the pain grew exponentially. Black spots danced across his vision. He grabbed the gun his functioning hand and slammed it against the spear of a Galra who was trying to take him down. He couldn’t die. His family would need him one day. His Voltron family needed him now.
Suddenly, the Galra’s head was sliced clean off. Keith stood over him protectively, surrounded by Galrans. While his blade started to build piles of dead Galra, he yelled to Lance,”Can you stand?”
Lance put his left hand down to push himself up, but the black dots and dizziness returned. His side ached from the sudden stress. He didn’t even manage to sit up before collapsing. Discouraged, Lance mumbled back,”No.”
Hold on…
Keith grabbed Lance’s arm and began to drag him. His side screamed in pain. Or maybe that was Lance? Or both? Lance didn’t know. He could feel himself being dragged over the bodies of dead and dying Galra. Dead because of him. The giant holes in their chests and heads were because of him. Lance had killed them. It only seemed fair that one of them would kill Lance in the same way they died.
Was Lance going to die? Was he never going to see his family again. Was he going to die as he’s dragged over the bodies of his victims? Lance hated firefights. He always vomited for a day afterwards. The sight of all of those bodies that were piled up haunted his nightmares and made it impossible to sleep.
Keith stopped dragging him and threw him on the ground where he was surrounded by his friends,”Hold on Lance, okay? You’re losing a lot of blood. Apply pressure. Keep the blood in. You are not allowed to die on me.”
Lance nodded.
Keith turned towards the others,”We need to get him out of here now!”
Hold on to me...
Lance felt a worried presence in the back of his mind. An offer to help, perhaps? His mind was too useless to process it until it was almost too late. Lance took in a shaky breath, his whole body screaming,”Keith? KEITH? Hold on-- Hold on to me. Red.”
Keith’s eyes widened,”FIND SOMETHING TO HOLD ON TO!”
Keith grabbed Lance’s hand and jumped towards a control panel just in time.
The ship rumbled as Red tore her teeth into the side of the ship. The Vacuum of space sucked the air out of the ship along with all the Galra. Hunk, who hadn’t managed to grab on to anything, was grabbed by blue before anything could happen. Now that the Galra were clear, the paladins let go of the ship and allowed themselves to float to Red.
The gravity-less feeling was amazing. There was less pressure on Lance’s body, meaning less pain. A hundred painkillers wouldn’t have been able to achieve the numbing, almost painless feeling.
Keith pulled Lance closer to his body, wrapping his arms carefully under Lance’s arms, letting Lance know that he was okay. Lance was safe. He was in Keith’s arms. Keith would take care of him. For a moment, everything was perfect in the world.
But gravity slowly took ahold again, and the pain was worse this time. His skin was boiling. The hole in his side burned like someone had been using it as a firepit. His hand was definitely broken. His head throbbed like never before.
‘Cause I’m a little unsteady
Lance slumped in Keith’s arms, and Keith dragged him over to the cockpit. Keith was surprisingly quick and gentle as he tore Lance’s armor off.
Lance knew it was bad when he saw Keith’s face. He wasn’t sure what Keith looked more concerned about: the gaping hole in his side or something on his head.
Keith took Lance’s non-injured hand and rubbed his thumb against the back of Lance’s hand,“Lance...I need you to hold on for me, okay? Talk to me. Tell me about your family again.”
Lance tried to shake his head, but he didn’t have the strength,”No. You’re the only one who can pilot red.”
Pidge knelt down next to them, grimacing as she saw Lance’s wounds. Judging by her expression, it was worse than Keith tried to make it look. Pidge took a deep breath, trying to steel herself before speaking,”Red’s gone on autopilot. The cruiser’s been destroyed. We should have time to make sure you don’t die. Hunk? Can you find something to use as a bandage? We’re gonna need a lot.”
Keith wasn’t paying attention. His full attention was on Lance,”You’re going to be okay, alright? We’ve got time. Right now we have to take care of our sharpshooter. Focus on staying with us. Tell me about your family.”
Lance coughed,“Well there’s Hunk, Allura, Veronica, And Marco. And Pidge. Pidge is my little sister and I love her.”
Keith managed a small smile, but a sight startled Lance. Keith was crying. There was tears running down his face. Maybe Lance truly was going to die.
Lance continued anyways,”And then there’s Keith. I love Keith a bit differently--”
Keith laughed, obviously thinking that Lance was referring to their rivalry,”But I love him. I love his purple eyes. His mullet drives me crazy--and don’t--”Lance coughed a deep, painful cough that spit up something. Maybe blood,”don’t deny it’s a mullet.”
Pidge lifted Lance’s head and started to wrap something around it. So his head was bleeding. That would explain why it hurt so bad.
Lance continued,”I love how beautiful he is when he’s mad. I love the electricity I feel everytime we touch. I’ve loved Keith for awhile now.”
Keith looked like he had been stabbed in the chest,”Lance, you can tell me later, okay. Save some for tomorrow.”
Lance looked at him right in those gorgeous purple eyes,”I could never run out of ways to tell you that I love you. But for now, just hold on to me. I’m uh… a little unsteady.”
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hyung-line-wife · 7 years
Text
Jimin Scenario : S/O being attacked by jealous Army
Sypnosis : Jimin decides to reveal you to the world as his girlfriend. However, soon, haters start attacking you throughout all your sns. 
It haven't been too long ago that your boyfriend, Chimchim had decided to make your relationship public. You had mixed feeling about this, as at first, you felt really exited, as you didn´t had to keep hiding anymore, not being able to hang out in public, could not tell anybody about him, or post anything about him at your sns. But, the worst thing of all was to having to see him with other female idols, not that you were the jealous type that didn´t want any girl around him in a ratio of 5km, but you knew the way that these female idols tried to flirt with him at backstage programs, or in variety programs where the MCs constantly teased him with other girls, making him hug them, or have emotional moments.
 But in the moment in where he told you his desition, you finally realised that the fact that making this relationship public could affect his carrer, as you knew that many of his fans secretly hoped to have an opportunity with him ... you also were one of them, until it did happened. You told him this, but he reassured you, telling you that it was okay. Big Hit had showed a lot of support into your relationship, and gave him the opportunity to Kimin to tell it at his fansign that was taking place today. 
 You closed the door of the apartment you shared with Jimin, as you returned from university, you had an essay due tomorrow, and you haven't even begin it, you always lived to the limit. Jimin should be arriving in some hours, as he had to go to a group meeting with their PD Bang Shi Hyuk, regarding their promotions. 
 DING DING DING 
The sound of notifications started emiting from your phone rentlessly, coming from the application of your Instagram and Twitter, there were over 100 notifications! 
 Excited, you started opening them, your photos on Instagram had now hundreds of likes, and you had over one thousand new followers! This was insane. Armys really were impressive on social media, you thought to yourself smiling. However, this smile flattered when you saw one of the newest comments on your new photo at the beach.
"Who does she thinks this crazy bitch is?" 
And it wasn´t the only comment of this way, as many more like this kept popping on your notification chart. 
"Whoa, she really has some guts to be showing such a fat body like this." 
"Disgusting." 
"You shoud die f**king bitch" 
"You are such a whore, wear actual clothes please. You embarass Jimin"
 "Darling!, I´m Home". You heard Jimin said, his voice being accompained by the sound of the front door closing. You quickly blocked your phone, and placed a smile for him. 
 Jimin aproached you, quickly, and embraced you, picking you up, and spinning you. You had rarely seen him this happy, and he still had his promotion clothes on, and wearing makeup. You laughed at this, leaving away the thoughts about those comments on your instagram. You could deal with that later. 
 “How did it went?”. You asked, giggling, as he placed you again on the ground. Jimin cupped your face on his small, warm, and loving hands, while looking at you and smiling with that cheeky smile from him, that actually had won your heart the first time you met. “Armys went crazy when I told them I had found my other half.” He leaned in, and gave you a sweet kiss, which actually tasted sweet, due to the lip balm he was wearing. “They asked for your name, personality and about our relationship, they’d would love to meet you”. He added between kisses. 
 This made you feel a little less troubled, as you felt that at least some people were giving you support, and loving you. You closed your eyes, enyoing the moment. 
However, you still felt your phone vibrating due to the notifications on your pocket. 
It was late at night when you had finally garnered enough bravery to be able to see the notifications panel on your phone. It had over 400 notifications. Your were now sitted on the bedroom your shared with Jimin, him not being anywear near, as he had gone out to celebrate with the members and their CEO the sucess that had caused the revelation of his relationship on the Korean media, as it was the hot topic of the day. Your also wanted to think the same, however, hose negative comments that you recieved on the afternoon had left you troubled.
“No, Y/N, you don’t know if those notifications are negative coments about you, maybe they are possitive ones. You’ll never know until you look at them”. You told yourself, taking the desition to look at them at last. Bravelly, you taped the icon of notifications of your Instagram, and entered the first notification of a comment that you saw. 
Chimlover_0998 “You should die” 
Jams03 “Jimin-ah, you are dead to me, until you end up with this bitch” 
Shyshykittyarmy “Bangtan does not deserve our support anymore” 
Tears rolled down your cheeks before you could stop them. Your heart felt a pang everytime that a message like this appeared when you scrolled down your Instagram. What had you done to them, for them to treat you like this?. You just desired to love Jimin freely, and recieve their support in your relationship. The pain in your chest almost felt unberable, as sobs erupted from your mouth.
You felt so lonely, so disgusting, and on top of that, so guilty that Jimin could suffer because of you. You leaned on the mattress, cuddling the most small you could, and let yourself cry to sleep, leaving your phone on, with the comments still on the screen. 
You woke up to sniffing sounds. Your head throbbed, due to the all the tears the you had shredded before falling asslep. Slowly, you lifted your head from the mattress, and opened your eyes, instantly regreting it because the lights were turned on. Slowly, you started recognizing a back that you knew so well, it was Jimin’s. He was hunched over, loking at someting on his hands. And everytime you heard a sniffing sound, you saw his back mucles contract through his white shirt. 
You incorporated and saw over his shoulder, and saw that he was reading the comments on your phone. You had forgotten to block your screen when you had fallen asleep, and now he had seen it all. 
“Y/N, why didn’t you told me?” He murmured without looking at you, with his head still down. You didn’t knew what to answer. 
“I.. I- I saw you so happy that I just couldn’t.” You whispered. 
“It’s all my fault, I didn’t want to listen when I was warned about the consequences that it could bring” He turned his face towards you, He had tears on this eyes, this made your heart hurt, only few times you had seen him crying. You took his face on your hands, and leaned your forehead on his. “Jimin-ah, please, don’t blame it on you, it’s also my fault, I. I also wished it to become public.” He led out a shaky sigh, and embraced you. You felt so protected on his arms, felt that your heart was slowly healing the open wound. You remained like that for what felt like hours. Until he kissed your forehead and started getting up.
You silently looked at him from the bed, while he took out his phone and dialed a number. 
"Good Evening PDNim...Yes I know it is too late, I'm sorry...ehh.. yes, you were right. My Y/N ah is been harrased,... yes.. I'm Sorry it's my fault for not being thoughtful " At this statement from with his CEO you finally understood that it wasn't that Jimin haven't thought about the possible situation, but he had desired with all his might this to not occur, by even not listening his PD, and maybe his older Hyungs too. "Alright, understood... yes.. No I'll be alright... okay, thank you so much.. thank you.. I'll hang up first." He turned to you, and passed a hand through his hair. 
"PDNim told me he is going to take care of all. The only thing is that you are not supposed to any of those comments, and if I'm asked about that on any of my promotions I can't make any statements about it. God, it bothers me so much the fact that I can not defend you myself if I come to face any of those bullys" He said with a shaky breath. Apart from all the pain that you had felt on all the day, this was more painful than everything. He could not defend you in any way from his fans, as it could damage his public image, and a public image is everything to an idol. But, apart from this, you knew inside you that you did not wanted to be defended by him, that the only way of comfort that you wanted was him to be by your side and hold you on his arms. 
"Jimin-ah". You told him, while you stranded from your bed and walked towards him, hugging him. "Right now the only thing that I want from you is to stay by my side. I don't want you to fight, I just want your comfort." You smiled lovingly, while getting on the tips of your toes to be able to kiss him. You felt that he started smiling slowly while kissing you. "I love you so much, I promise you that I would not let something like this happen the future, just because of me being thoughtless." He whispered while hugging you tightly on his arms.
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