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dukeofonions · 3 years

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The Problem With Asides

Before I get into anything I want to clarify that this is not going to be a criticism of the two Asides episodes we’ve gotten so far. This is a critique of the concept of Sanders Asides as a separate series from the original Sanders Sides. A second note I want to make is that this is, just as all my other posts are, a personal opinion. This is not meant to be an attack on anyone, just a general criticism from a confused writer and viewer of the show.

And final disclaimer: A lot of what I’m going to say is based on information that I no longer have available. It’ll mostly be me recalling things I heard and if I at any point get something wrong please feel free to let me know.

That being said, let’s get into this, shall we?

(Fair warning this post is very long hence why I’ve divided it into parts so feel free to read then come back as you wish)

Part One: The Concept of Asides

Some time ago last year, I believe shortly after Dealing With Intrusive Thoughts came out, was when the idea for Sanders Asides was first announced. The basic concept of it being shorter, more lighthearted videos focusing on the Sides outside of the main storyline. This format would allow them to give us more Sides content in between the long waits for the main series since those episodes were beginning to take more time to produce.

Of course, everyone was eager for more Sides, so the majority of people were excited. Not only that but due to the main series tackling heavier themes, the episodes were becoming more angsty with less time for the characters to just relax and goof off with each other. The idea of having episodes reminiscent of the low stakes, sillier, happier content of season one was a welcome break from the more complex episodes and would be a nice return to form for the series.

We were also informed that these episodes would be much simpler than their main series counterparts and wouldn’t disrupt the work being done on Sanders Sides, which meant we didn’t have to worry about long gaps between the main story episodes, right?

(Another disclaimer: I am perfectly aware of the main reason why we were not given as much content last year and am not blaming Thomas or the team for doing what was necessary to keep themselves safe and hope they continue to do so as this continues into the new year)

Jump to November 22, 2019, where we got our first official episode of Sanders Asides, roughly five months after DWIT came out. Which, for this fandom, was record time to get more content and I was pleasantly surprised by how quickly they were able to get this out. Though at the same time, I wondered why it took five months to make what was meant to be a short, simple episode.

So imagine my surprise when I went to watch the episode and saw it was nearly 20 minutes long. Which, okay, isn’t that bad when you compare it to the lengths of the more recent Sanders Sides episodes. But at the time, I was under the impression that the Asides would be, well, much shorter. The longest I expected would be maybe 15 minutes, but you know what? It’s the first episode and it has been a while since we’ve had Sides content, so maybe they wanted to give us a little extra due to the long wait.

I started the episode and at first, I was overjoyed when I saw the first shot of all the Sides sitting in the living room in their onesies about to have a movie night. This was exactly what I’d been hoping to see from this series! It’s pretty much a staple thing in the fandom for the Sides to have movie nights together, and now it was happening in canon!

At the moment, I had high hopes for this series and was filled with joy.

Then that hope and joy were immediately crushed when I realized this was yet just another Virgil-centric angst episode. In fact, this entire episode was, well, exactly like a regular Sanders Sides episode. Sure, there were some jokes here and there, but the tone of the episode was no lighter than the last Sanders Sides episode. If anything DWIT felt lighter in comparison to this one.

Which leads me to ask, what the heck happened?

Part Two: Literally the Same Show

At this point in time, we’ve only had two episodes of Asides. Usually, I try to hold off my judgment of a series until I’ve had at least one other episode to see if my original criticisms still stand.

To be fair, I did think Flirting With Social Anxiety was a step in the right direction. More comedy, a lighter tone, yes. Perfect. But again, just like with Are There Healthy Distractions? This episode quickly dove right back into the angst pool, and just like ATHD it was a pretty long episode, clocking in at almost 25 minutes.

Not only that but again, both FWSA and ATHD don’t feel any different from the episodes we’ve been getting in Sanders Sides.

1. They’re just as angsty.

2. Roughly the same length as Sanders Sides episodes.

3. Take about just as long to produce.

4. Contain a lesson to be learned.

Which, okay, you can have lessons in lighter shows too, but we’re already getting that in Sanders Sides and Sanders Asides was described as, well, being less plot heavy. Yet so far both episodes are still tied in with the main plot.

ATHD deals with the aftermath of DWIT, not directly but it’s pretty obvious that the whole thing with Virgil’s reveal at the end of that episode is being addressed in the background. Which, kind of takes away the impact of that ending, but I’ll get to that later.

Then FWSA takes place after Putting Others First and again, is dealing with things from that episode in the background. Again though, this isn’t necessarily a bad thing. It makes sense to see the characters dealing with things from past events.

So why is it a problem here? Because, again, Sanders Asides is meant to be a separate series, and all the subtext brought on from the episodes in Sanders Sides makes the plots in these two episodes confusing.

For example, I was perplexed during my first watch of FWSA because I couldn’t understand why the focus of the conflict was lying. I didn’t understand why Virgil and Roman came to the conclusion that Thomas’ reason for being unable to approach Nico was because he was lying to himself, when both the title of the episode and what we were shown points more to, well, social anxiety being the problem.

(Quick note: One could argue that this was done purposefully to have Virgil putting the blame on Janus since he doesn’t like him and wouldn’t want to admit that he was the one responsible, but this series has had a bad habit of favoring Virgil in the past so until we get more answers I’m gonna leave this on the backburner)

It didn’t help that I had no idea when this episode was meant to take place in the timeline, and I originally thought it could take place a bit after season two since Roman and Virgil seemed to be doing better, but more on them later.

All of this bugged me until I found out that FWSA takes place after POF, and after watching the live stream that followed and getting some more context, the lying thing made a bit more sense, but the fact that I was as confused as I was just caused more frustration to build up. And I wasn’t the only one who got thrown off by the “Lying is wrong” message of FWSA so I had to ask again, why was this episode a Sanders Asides when apparently, you need information from the last Sanders Sides episode in order to understand it?

So you’re telling me, that the second episode in what is supposed to be a separate series that isn’t meant to be a part of the main plot, is now integral to the plot of the main story you’re telling in what is, as you have said, a separate show? How does that make any sense?

Okay, one could argue that Thomas getting a love interest doesn’t really fit with the current storyline that’s going on in Sanders Sides, and that is a fair point. The problem with that is, FWSA takes place right after Putting Others First.

You all remember what happened at the end of that episode, right?

Part Three: Intrusive Plots

At this point we’ve all become rather accustomed to the long waits in between videos, it’s nothing new to us, and for the most part they haven’t done anything to harm the current plot of Sanders Sides. Sure, the length of time between videos can cause people to lose interest, but for the most part the tone of the last three episodes of Sanders Sides hasn’t differed much and the story flow is still going along smoothly.

Let’s start with Selfishness vs Selflessness, which is the episode that sets up the big climax for season two. It’s still got its jokes and funny moments, but the overall tone is far more serious than previous episodes have been. This carries on into DWIT where Thomas has been so stressed out lately that he’s begun to have trouble with his intrusive thoughts.

Virgil even gives a pretty good summary of Thomas’ current mental state: “He recently realized he’s a bigger liar than he thought he was, he doesn’t understand himself, he’s committed to skipping a big callback, and he’s sleep-deprived. So yeah, he feels like a piece of dirt who has no control over his life.”

And all that was a direct result of the ending of SVS, despite DWIT not being the direct follow up to that episode the two are still intertwined. Remember that for later.

DWIT ends with the long awaited reveal of Virgil having been a “Dark Side.” Even though the majority of the fandom had figured it out by as early as Can Lying Be Good? That didn’t take away from the emotional gut punch that this scene was and it’s one of my favorite moments from the series. I may have to make a whole post breaking that scene down but what matters is that this scene was a turning point for Virgil’s character.

We’ve seen him trying to hide the truth from Thomas ever since Janus and Remus started popping up, and there were close calls with both of them nearly revealing it themselves and continuously dropping hints to Thomas. Only for Virgil to admit it to Thomas himself, and leave before Thomas can even say a word.

We don’t know for sure how Thomas is feeling in this moment, but it’s clear he’s been shaken by this. He doesn’t really have a lot of time to process it before he remembers to acknowledge the audience and close out the video.

This comes up again once we finally get to the monster of an episode that is POF, the follow up to SVS that everyone had been waiting over a year for. Right away we see that Patton and Roman will be at the forefront of this discussion with Logan popping up every now and then, but who doesn’t show up in this episode despite having played a role in SVS?

Virgil.

He’s nowhere to be seen and his absence is definitely felt. Why wouldn’t he be part of this discussion? He was there in SVS and had a lot to say on the matter, he was even part of the decision to choose the wedding over the callback! So why wasn’t he there?

Well, just look at the ending of DWIT and there’s your answer. Of course he isn’t about to show his face after that. Not when Thomas is already under so much stress already and he isn’t sure how Thomas will react to seeing him-

*insert random voice whispering off to the side*

Wait, Virgil has seen Thomas since DWIT? When?

*whispers continue*

Oh, right, they interacted in Sanders Asides. How did that go again?

*whispers explain*

Huh? Thomas said he’s cool with Virgil despite revealing that he’s been hiding something from him this whole time? That “something” being the fact that Virgil was once considered part of the others that were currently making Thomas’ life miserable?

*whispers confirm*

Really? They’re both okay with each other now? Well, good for them.

So wait, then why didn’t Virgil show up in POF? He was there during the first discussion and honestly he’d have more of a reason to show up than Logan who wasn’t really present at all in SVS.

*whispers explain*

He just wasn’t need there? Hm, alright. Guess that makes sense…

Well okay, Virgil and Thomas are on good terms once POF rolls around, Virgil isn’t present during the conversation because he isn’t needed and I suppose his presence would make things worse. Especially once Janus revealed himself, he wouldn’t allow him to get a word in. Even though Janus could probably silence him but I digress.

Fast forward towards the ending of POF, remember when I said to remember how SVS and DWIT were connected? Well DWIT is just as important to POF, acting as a bit of bridge between to the two episodes.

Janus brings up Remus (both directly and indirectly) twice in this episode.

First here:

Notice how Roman’s breakdown is already being foreshadowed here, the camera focusing on him while “Logan” says this isn’t an accident.

The second time Remus is brought up is at the very end after Janus has revealed his name:

“Oh, Roman thank God you don’t have a mustache. Otherwise between you and Remus, I wouldn’t know who the evil twin is.”

(No I am not posting screenshots of this scene I already got emotional over the last one)

As we saw at the end of DWIT, Roman does not have a good relationship with is brother. So much so that when Thomas refers to Remus as such, Roman creates a different analogy that compares Remus to a mirror, reflecting everything Roman doesn’t want to be.

Roman desperately wants to distance himself from Remus, not wanting anything to do with him. We’ve only gotten a glimpse of just how far this loathing goes, and part of that comes from Roman finally breaking down after being told by Janus that if it wasn’t for a mustache there’d be no difference between him and Remus.

This shook Roman more than anything else in the show has so far, moreso than him being the one to decide that Thomas should give up the callback. He was the one that pushed Thomas to make that decision, believing it was the noble thing to do, only for it to only make Thomas feel worse and then be told by Janus that his “noble sacrifice” was all for nothing.

Janus, the one who had been supporting Roman throughout SVS, buttering him up and encouraging him to go after his dream, told him that his sacrifice was worthless. Then to top it all off Janus admits what he did and brushes it off as a joke. He doesn’t apologize to Roman, leaving him in the dust, then when Roman responds by laughing at his name he’s shot down even lower.

And when he looks to Thomas and Patton for help, for answers, anything.

They stay silent.

Patton tries to reassure him, telling Roman that they love him, but he doesn’t believe it. He sinks out, and that’s the last we see of him.

Selfishness vs Selflessness, Dealing With Intrusive Thoughts, and Putting Others First are three of the biggest (and dare I say most important) episodes in the series. The three almost act like a trilogy, with POF leading to something bigger, the season finale. Which will be culmination of all three of these episodes.

We’ll be seeing Virgil’s reaction to Janus having been accepted by Patton and facing his own past as a “Dark Side.” Then we’ll find out what has become of Roman after he disappeared at the end of POF, and how it now affects his relationship with Thomas.

*whispers return and begin to whisper*

I’m sorry what?

*whispers repeat*

Virgil already knows about Janus getting somewhat accepted? Well okay I guess he would, wish we could have seen his reaction to that but oh well, no big deal. At least we got the Roman and Thomas confrontation to look forward to.

*whispers whisper*

Roman has already interacted with Thomas since POF? When?!

*whisper*

In FWSA? Oh yeah, how did that go again? It was super awkward right? Since Roman doesn’t really trust that Thomas loves or values him?

*whisperly whisper*

They get along just fine as if nothing happened?

*whispersty*

It looks like he might still be upset with him since he’s being a bit passive aggressive?

*whisper*

Can’t really tell because the three are too busy trying to talk to a cute guy at the mall?

Okay, I guess that all makes sense…

Looks like Roman and Virgil still aren’t on the best terms with Thomas but are able to push that aside to help him talk to this handsome stranger, and hey, it worked! Thomas now has a boyfriend! Just look at Roman and Virgil at the end, they’re both so happy with Thomas!

Looks like now they can focus on this new chapter in their life and leave the events of POF behind them. I mean, now that Roman and Virgil seem pretty cool with Thomas it would just feel weird to suddenly have them angry with him again, wouldn’t it?

Part Four: The Problem

Sanders Asides was originally described as being a series separate from the main storyline of Sanders Sides. Promising us shorter, less complicated episodes to give us a little something in between the longer, heavier episodes in Sanders Sides. This was a great idea that ended up falling apart the moment it began.

When I was going through SVS, DWIT, and POF I mentioned that the three of them felt like a trilogy. All three of them link together to tell one bigger story, and on their own they get the job done. They set up the season finale perfectly to the point where you have an idea of what to expect and what to look forward to.

The main things being the aftermath of Virgil’s reveal and Roman’s breakdown, which would most likely cultivate in them teaming up against Janus. This would also involve Virgil coming to terms with his past and Roman having to face Remus.

Of course, none of this has been officially confirmed, but given everything we’ve seen up to this point it just makes sense.

The story for season two is nearly complete, all we’re missing is the conclusion.

Then Sanders Asides showed up and threw everything off course. What was supposed to be its own thing crept into a story that was already (for all we knew) set up and being put into place.

We were told that the Asides wouldn’t do anything to disrupt the flow of Sanders Sides, yet it’s been confirmed that there will be one or two more episodes of Asides before we get the season finale.

Why? Why are these episodes necessary when everything was set to move forward after POF? If these episodes are that important that they absolutely have to be made before the finale then why are they simply not part of the main series?

You could say “Well they’re not directly tied to the main plot, that’s why.” But need I remind you that Asides as a concept was just intriduced after DWIT came out? These episodes were written specifcally for Asides, which unless I’m wrong means that they were just added into the main story with no planning whatsoever.

FWSA honestly feels like it should have been the start of season three, something that should have waited to be introduced after season two wrapped up because it’s just too much.

We already have so much to unpack from SVS, DWIT, and POF now we also have a new love interest on top of that?

Virgil and Thomas’ resolution doesn’t even feel all that special because it wasn’t talked about directly between them. Thomas was indirectly letting Virgil know they were still okay, so what does that leave for us? All that build up about Virgil being a “Dark Side” only for it to be brushed over like it was nothing, and this happened in an Asides episode, not even in the main series.

It also makes Virgil’s absence in POF confusing when they had already set up the perfect reason for him to be absent in DWIT, but according to the first episode of ATHD Virgil and Thomas are okay with each other. Sure, Virgil being there might have made things worse but at that point everyone was making things worse.

We no longer have a confrontation between Thomas and Roman to look forward to because in FWSA we see them interacting as normal. Even the passive agressiveness isn’t anything new to Roman and really, it all just sounds super petty which he had been known to behave like that even when nothing is seriously wrong. Not only that Roman is overjoyed at the end, having finally gotten something he desperately wanted, the happy ending he deserved.

All that’s left for him is to fave his feelings towards Remus, but what would even happen there?

The problem with Asides isn’t the quality of the episodes, FWSA is actually one of my favorite episodes. The problem with Asides is that the team is taking what should have been something small and turning it into a far too elaborate for what its original purpose was: To give us more lighthearted content to enjoy in between the waits for the heavier episodes.

Instead it just feels like they’re adding onto something that really didn’t need adding on to, creating more work for themselves when it just isn’t necessary, and that worries me.

Final Thoughts

Honestly, it’s hard for me to make all these judgments when no one has any idea what the finale is going to be like. And usually, the team is able to excede my expectations and create something amazing.

But with all these new Asides episodes that feel like they’re just being crammed in at the last second, it makes me wonder how the rest of the series will go if they continue down this road.

Season two started September 1st, 2017, it is now January 3rd, 2021. Throughout season two the production of episodes became more elaborate, and there have been complications that arose from trying to make these videos as a result that sent production screeching to a halt. And on top of that, these Sanders Asides have been added to create even more work for Thomas and the team.

I don’t understand why they’d do this to themselves when it’s already become more difficult than ever to make videos in general, not just Sanders Sides.

We were offered something simple that would have satisfied everyone during the difficult times, only to be given something that honestly, wasn’t even needed. I do appreciate Thomas trying to get us more content, but I don’t think he or the team realizes just how content we’d all be with just a five minute video of the characters we love just doing something as simple as hanging out and having fun, especially with how dark things have become all around us.

We don’t always have to be watching these characters struggle, sometimes we just need to see them be genuinely happy.

(Thanks to everyone who took time to read this monster of a post, I did not mean for it to get this long but it’s been dwelling on my mind for a while and I wanted to make sure I got out everything I wanted to say. Again, this is all just a personal opinions and you are not obligated to agree with me. If you have an objecting opinion I would not mind hearing it but please keep any discussions civil.)

#dukeofcritical #sanders sides #ts criticism #sanders sides criticism #patton sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #janus sanders #remus sanders #logan sanders #long post

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chalky · 3 years

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The Commodification of c!Tubbo

This essay is unnecessary but I think about it too much so here you go

At this point, y’all are probably sick and tired of me rambling about c!Tubbo, as this is about all my original posts are. But, I feel as though this is an important aspect of his character that is either swept under the rug or never given any second glance.

Whether intentionally or not, Tubbo has been constantly commodified by allies and enemies alike (don’t even get me started on the fandom, that’s for a whole other post). Like, throughout the entire story of the Dream SMP, Tubbo has been looked down upon as a yes man, sidekick, or extension of another character who is incapable of making decisions for himself, which is such a degrading thing to experience for so long and explains why his character values himself so little.

This is a long one, heads up!

I want to break up this dehumanization and commodification into three categories:

Tubbo is either a pawn (something to be used), a trophy(something to be owned), or a scapegoat(something to be blamed) to others.

Tubbo Seen as a Pawn:

Wilbur loved Tubbo, but his treatment of him during the Pogtopia arc was definitely sad to see. (Note: Wilbur was spiraling and his mental health was in shambles. He couldn’t help his paranoia and he deserved way better than the ending he got, but that doesn’t absolve the effects of his actions on others). First he took Tubbo on as a spy, a very dangerous role that landed him dead, but throughout Tubbo’s service Wilbur saw him as an obedient pawn, while not a loyal one. A pawn ready to turn to whatever authority figure commanded him best. His remarks about Tubbo being a yes man back this up, and the way he warns Tommy that Tubbo will betray them erases all of Tubbo’s identity and reduces it to that of a spy (again, this is born of Wilburs paranoia, this isn’t his fault).

Dream made it very clear that he regarded Tubbo as lesser than a toy, so obedient and trusting that he wasn’t worth keeping alive because he was so boring to him. The whole speech about Tubbo being worthless wasn’t even directed at him despite him being right there. Dream only addressed Tommy as if he was the one whose opinion on Tubbos fate mattered.

Jack Manifold literally used Tubbo’s trust to attempt to kill Tommy, saying that he was a sweet guy but way too gullible. No better way to treat someone as a pawn to further ones own agenda than by literally using them. (Him talking about how he’d be there to comfort Tubbo after the assisted murder of his best friend still mildly disturbs me).

Quackity managed to talk Tubbo into going through with the Butcher Army, using Tubbo’s power to further Quackity’s agenda (which, by Quackity’s own admission, did not revolve around the protection of L’manburg.) Quackity didn’t care that Tubbo was against violence, and pushed his concerns to the side in favor of his own ideas and kept comparing Tubbo to Schlatt whenever he acted in a way he disagreed with.

Speaking of, THE CONSTANT DISREGARD OF HIS DECISIONS AS PRESIDENT. His Cabinet never listened to him and lowkey every stream they had together was a bit frustrating to me (I’m also a sensitive bitch). They didn’t respect him in any way and undermined his authority UNTIL THEY NEEDED HIM TO SAVE EVERYONE’S LIFE. (Elaborated on in Scapegoat Category).

Technically, as much as I am a Tommy apologist, Tommy’s constant insistence that the Disc War needed to involve Tubbo kind of fits under this category. As much as Tubbo was happy to help, his involvement wasn’t really necessary, but Tommy needed someone to help him. This involvement nearly resulted in his willing death.

The only reason Dream even wanted to kill Tubbo, on top of perceiving him as useless, was to hurt Tommy and give him something of a “hero origin story” like Batman and his parents or Spider-Man and Uncle Ben. So, literally by Dream’s definition, he wanted to fridge Tubbo.

We could refer to Wilbur assigning Tubbo to presidency as Wilbur using him to make the explosion of L’manburg hurt more, but that feels like a stretch to me.

This may be a stretch, but after Tubbo is executed and Tommy starts getting mad at Technoblade, Wilbur eggs Tommy on by saying “Think of what he did to Tubbo,” while Tubbo is literally right there. His emotions on the event doesn’t matter to Wilbur, only how it impacted Tommy.

Tubbo Seen as a Prize/Trophy

The constant referral of Tubbo as something to be owned by someone, like during Wilburs speech of “he’s your Tubbo!”, is a bit off putting though I don’t think it’s meant to be malicious. Very rarely is the sentiment reversed, seen when Ghostbur gave Tubbo the Your Tommy compass, furthering the idea that Tubbo is an object, something to be sought after and secured with little opportunity for him to own something himself. It’s always “Tommy’s Tubbo”. Also when Schlatt gloated about having “his very own Tubbo”.

Tommy shows more possessive behaviors when dealing with the discovery of Ranboo and Tubbo’s marriage, asking about permission and insisting that Ranboo stole Tubbo from him. I’m sure this is subconscious, I know Tommy values Tubbo as a person but he still reduces Tubbo to an object to guard because he treasures his friend.

Another more vague example would be the fact that Schlatt exiled Wilbur and Tommy, but kept Tubbo as his right hand man even though it was clear he was on POG2020’s side. It was a way to insult Tommy, a way for Schlatt to add salt to the wound by keeping his best friend.

The Dream Team captured Tubbo very early into the Revolution, keeping him in a hole and holding him for ransom (this could be played off for laughs, I just remembered it). They also burned down his base, unrelated really but I remember it.

We could also count the way that Dream kept threatening to kill Tubbo if Tommy didn’t return the disc, but this feels like a mixture of pawn and prize, while still dehumanizing as it compares his value to that of music discs.

Yes, I am going to take c!Tommy joking about killing Michael to get Tubbo and Ranboo to break up so he can get Tubbo back seriously. The way he glared at Michael while holding an axe was just for the stream to see, if it was a joke I feel like he would have said it out loud. Even if it is a joke, laughing about taking something Tubbo loves away just to ruin his relationships is a bit yikes and frames Tubbo as something to be won back. You can ignore this if you didn’t see that moment as canon, but there are plenty of signs pointing to this being in character. (Also to be noted, Tubbo didn’t want to show Michael to Tommy, so Tommy ignored him and asked Ranboo instead, who immediately showed Tommy to Michael despite Tubbo’s clear worries)

Tubbo seen as a Scapegoat

His cabinet flip flopped back and forth on the decision to exile Tommy every five seconds. Whenever they spoke with Tubbo, they were all “You’re right! We’re going to listen to you! We have to do what’s right!” and then they hear a half baked plan and completely switch up on what they already agreed to do. (This happened twice. One at the sit down meeting where Tommy revealed Spirit and the cabinet joined Tommy in his mocking, only to blame him for how the meeting ended. Twice at the exile). So when Tubbo had to follow the original plan to, you know, make sure their country wasn’t put under lock and key until every citizen was eventually killed, his cabinet acted so shocked and betrayed and he was Schlatt and a dictator. It’s very true that he went against their plan (THAT THEY MADE FIVE MINUTES BEFOREHAND AFTER HAVING ALREADY AGREED TO THE FIRST PLAN FOR DAYS), but the way they treated him afterwards, as if he was a vile person for keeping his country safe, heavily impacted Tubbo’s mental state for a long time after. What I’m saying is Tubbo was set up to be the villain in that scenario, accidentally by his allies, and purposefully by Dream.

Tubbo was blamed for the destruction of L’manburg by Dream and a few others (also himself)

TUBBO IS CONSTANTLY BLAMED FOR THE BUTCHER ARMY ARC DESPITE IT BEING COMPLETELY THOUGHT OF AND LEAD BY QUACKITY (This is predominately fandom based).

The full blame for Tommy’s exile has rested on Tubbo (I will never forget Tommy calling him a monster), despite the fact he was manipulated and backed into a corner by Dream. Even when everyone has come to understand that Tommy was manipulated by Dream, the same doesn’t go for Tubbo and he’s hit with “imagine exiling your best friend” jokes many times.

Wilbur puts the decision of blowing people up at the festival on Tubbo’s shoulders, absolving him of the blame.

Schlatt made Tubbo tear down the L’manburg walls and the important signs so he could have to deal with the blame (though Quackity took the fall for this).

This is more theory based, but I fully believe Wilbur made Tubbo president right in front of Techno to egg him on to attack L’manburg. Since Tubbo would be the president, he would take the full brunt of Techno’s wrath (and he and Tommy did), and the destruction fell onto him.

So! With my text evidence we can see a recurring pattern in the way that Tubbo has been used by many people over the history of the server without much regard for his feelings. There are very few times when people besides Tommy ask how Tubbo feels about a situation, leaving him to his dark thoughts without anybody caring. Even during the Final Disc War, when Tubbo was literally moments from death, nobody asks how he is. Nobody (except Quackity once) checks up on him, and he builds up his community by himself. Until Ranboo came along, and I am not overexaggerating this, nobody was with Tubbo to support him. He had no support system and nobody cared. They just assume that he is always fine and if he wasn’t, it isn’t their place to intervene. Tubbo is just not respected, feared, or acknowledged unless he has someone by his side, or unless he’s doing something bad in which case he’s unhinged and evil and sure to have a villain arc.

This is just something to find interesting:

The only few characters Tubbo is actively involved with that hasn’t looked down on him as a sidekick or an object has been Foolish, Puffy, Ranboo and Technoblade. You could make an argument of how Technoblade referring to him as “government” could be dehumanizing but I don’t think I’ve actually seen him do that in character? I could be wrong though. Really, Technoblade takes him seriously, but way more seriously than c!Tubbo warrants. Like, he’s looking for a tyrant to beat up and Tubbo is literally just a guy with a lot of issues struggling to keep a handle on his cabinet, which I find funny. But, jokes aside, Technoblade saw Tubbo as a legitimate threat during his presidency and is respectfully cautious of him and his nukes presently, which is surprising to me. Ranboo adores Tubbo and all of his chaos that people are unaware of because they don’t get to know him well enough. Puffy just wants the best for all the kids of the server and knows how to be respectful of their feelings, and Foolish is respectful of Tubbo, if a bit annoyed and intimidated by him.

The point of this essay is just to show that there is a pattern to these things. This is how Tubbo is treated, this is why Tubbo is prepared to die for whatever because because he doesn’t feel he’s worth anything while alive, and this is why it’s frustrating to see characters call him a follower, pawn, or yes man. And here’s the thing: I DONT KNOW WHY THEY TREAT HIM LIKE THIS??? Why him? I can’t really find out why this started to happen.

To sum some things up, no I don’t think every character who treats him poorly is completely evil. Again, some of this seems to be subconscious, some of this could be argued to be OOC, I just wanted to bring this pattern to light.

#dream smp #tubbo #meta #tubbo appreciation #character analysis #jschlatt #dreamwastaken #I said I’d do an essay #here’s the essay

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subtlereferencetomyinterests · 4 years

Text

Complexities Unknowable- Chapter 7 (Finale!)

Ao3, 1 2 3 4 5 6. MasterPost

Relationships: Deintruality, background Analogince

Warnings: Cursing, Remus-typical language and jokes, Minor self-deprication/insecurity, the ol’ ‘thinks-it’s-unrequited-and-is-oblivious-to-obvious-flirting’ song and dance, all sympathetic sides, feelings of being left out, also I accidentally projected too hard and now Patton has adhd oops.

Word Count: 4,000 (approximately)

Patton felt better than he could ever remember feeling. Sleep came easy as it hadn’t for him in years. It was amazing how far a little bit of understanding went.

When all your closest friends are together, you get lonely. Patton wouldn’t say that he was jealous, but everything was different now. When he used to spend time with the others, it was four pals spending quality time together! Now when they did, it was a date, except oops! Patton’s here too! How awkward!

He knew that was unfair. They didn’t really think of him that way, of course not. Hence why he didn’t bring it up.

It wasn’t like that with Remus and Deceit. Even though they were dating, Patton never felt left behind. Their humor was dark and snarky but accessible, not laden with inside jokes that he’d missed out on or specific clues that he didn’t pick up.

The inclusiveness they treated him with was probably borne from being excluded for so long, though he didn’t like to think about that. The fact was, the three were friends now, the past was past, and Patton was drinking in their companionship like fine wine (or, to be more accurate to himself, a grape juice box).

It did not take him long to figure out why he was so fond of their company. You can only spend so much time with Deceit prattling about the dangers of repression before you start to unearth all of those deeply buried feelings.

He’d fallen for the Dark Sides. Whoops.

Could you really blame him? Deceit, suave and clever and funny, yet so gentle when he wanted to be; Remus, bold and brash and energetic, but still with such a deep empathy hidden in him! It was no wonder that the two were already together- anyone who spent as much time with them as they spent with each other would be head-over-heels as well! (Patton was speaking from experience on that one).

Initial surprise regarding the feelings had soon faded to something almost comfortable. He was happy to have them as his friends alone, so what was a little crush? No big deal!

...Was what he had thought ten minutes ago, when there wasn’t an affectionate Remus wrapped around him, chattering off various compliments.

“I could hold you forever, Patty. You are just the softest, like a water balloon full of blood and organs! But still so ripped, I mean, damn!”

“Language,” Patton chided meekly, trying very hard to not dissolve into the ether.

“Awww, you can’t make an exception for me? Just this once? I’ll make it worth your while~,” the last part was a hushed sing-song right near Morality’s ear. He felt his face redden, but forced himself away to refocus on… whatever he had been doing.

“Nope, no exceptions,” he chirped, going back to- right! Cleaning!

“You aren’t tempted at all? You are so responsible- and that’s really one of the sexiest qualities there is.”

It was just Remus’ nature to talk to people like that, Patton told himself firmly. The Creative side was just expressing his friendly affection in a way that made sense to him. It came alongside being close to someone so unused to ‘typical’ friendship dynamics, after all. Patton reminded himself of this again and again, denying himself the desperate urge that welled up and told him to respond in kind. He would not purposefully misinterpret Remus’ actions for his own gain, he was better than that!

“Thank you, Rem,” just nice, platonic gratitude for nice, platonic compliments.

Eventually, finally, mercifully, The Duke had seemed to get bored. He disentangled himself from Patton (appearing rather crestfallen, though the moral trait wasn’t sure why), and wandered off.

But that, whether for good or for bad, was hardly the end of that.

Deceit’s room was magnificently cozy. It was armchairs that swallowed up whomever sat in them, warm lamps casting down on all surfaces, and jazzy music playing distantly in the background. In other words, the perfect place for a good cup of tea and some sandwiches, not to mention pleasant conversation.

Deceit lounged back in his oversized chair, sending Patton an inscrutable look across their teacups. The side smiled, hoping that was the appropriate response.

“So,” he drawled, switching the track of their conversation abruptly, “You’re something of a seamster, aren’t you?”

Patton stared blankly for a moment before the term clicked.

“Oh, you mean a seamstress?”

“Sorry, I thought you’d prefer the masculine, but that really was presumptuous of me,” Deceit amended in apology.

“I didn’t know that there was a word for it other than seamstress. Hey, isn’t it kinda weird how some jobs are like that, when you think about it? Like how there’s actors and actresses! Why wouldn’t ‘actor’ be all encompassing, ya know?”

Deceit made a vague noise of disinterest and waved his hand, as though manually cutting off the tangent in conversation.

“Yes, gender is a distasteful societal construct and an overall prison to our consciences, we both agree- but regardless, you sew. Make clothing and things like our quilt. Isn’t that right?”

“Right- yes.”

“Do you make all of your own clothes, then?”

“Hmm, sometimes I do- I mostly make stuff for the others. It’s easier to conjure simple stuff for myself, but making them is a lot of fun!” Morality gestured enthusiastically to the pastel pink sweater that he wore, fluffy and intricately patterned.

Deceit’s eyes glinted in a strange, intimidating, and also incredibly hot way. Patton almost forced the attraction out of his mind, before realizing that that kind of repression would definitely be noticed in this part of the Mindscape.

“I would have to say you have quite the talent, in that case,” the dishonest trait set down his cup and craned his body over the small table between them, heterochromatic gaze alight with… something. Patton cleared his throat.

“W-Why’s that?”

“You look positively hideous in that, my Dear,” he purred in obvious lies, gloved hands now sitting in the middle of the table and creeping forward by the inch.

“Aw, thanks,” Patton croaked, fighting the urge to lean forward in turn.

Something strangely disappointed flashed in Deceit’s eyes, but he quickly recovered. He reached out to run a hand along Patton’s sleeve, the touch lingering against his arm.

“My my, that’s just like a cloud. How did you manage that, Darling?”

Morality shivered as Deceit continued to toy with the fabric of his sweater.

“I-It’s probably because it’s made with love! Since that’s what I am, kinda,” he stammered, desperately trying to keep up the cheery tone.

“I’m inclined to agree. There’s beauty in all you touch, Sunshine.”

Oh, the pet names. Patton really couldn’t take it; he jerked away and pressed his back against the chair, before he had the chance to do something stupid. Honestly, it was sad how hard this was for him- Deceit was just trying to be a good friend! It wasn’t his fault that he showed it with flirts!

“You’re too sweet,” with distance reestablished, Morality found it much easier to formulate words, “I really appreciate you, Dee.”

Deceit blinked, still hovering over the table. He cleared his throat and snapped back into his seat, suddenly looking the part of the cold and distant Dark Side that Patton had feared just months prior. Guarded, callous, stoic. It was almost frightening, how quickly he changed.

“Yes, I know you do. Let’s change topics, shall we?”

Patton, feeling quite a bit of whiplash, nodded hesitantly. Their conversation continued to flow normally, for the most part, but he couldn’t help feeling that he’d messed up somewhere. There was something heavy over them, but Patton hadn’t the slightest idea what it was.

For a brief, dizzying moment, he wondered if they were moving backwards. If he’d somehow crossed a line when he was trying so hard not to, and now they were two steps back again. Just the thought of it made him too sick to finish his tea.

Patton didn’t have to be worried for long about that particular mishap, thankfully, as a very momentous occasion had swallowed up the fear. Remus and Deceit were going to be joining in their first ever movie night as part of the family!

There’d been plenty of TV marathons with just them and Pat already, but now they’d all come together! As part of the group!! Contributing to the voting and the arguing and the joking and the experience of it all!!! Needless to say, Patton was practically bouncing off the walls in his excitement.

He plopped down onto the couch with a bowl of popcorn, passing a much larger container of snacks to the amorphous blob of limbs and sass that had once been his three best friends, cuddled together far across from him. Now, all they needed were the Dark- sorry, former Dark Sides.

He wasn’t waiting for long before Deceit and Remus appeared in the living room (Remus, thank the lord, wearing actual pajamas). Patton couldn’t contain the happy little chirp that escaped him, scrunching himself to one side of the sectional so that they’d have plenty of room to make themselves at home.

Rather than huddling together in the crook of the curved sofa, however, Deceit immediately gestured for Patton to scooch over, and Remus sat on his other side. Morality was happy (if a bit surprised) to comply with this new seating arrangement, flashing them bright smiles. In light of recent events, being so close with both of them was a little dizzying, but it wasn’t too hard to bear. For now.

The conversation on which movie to watch that night was more agreeable than usual, which was nice; they got right to the marathon with little hassle. Patton sighed as the opening credits to Tangled played. At that moment, his life couldn’t get any more wonderful. Surrounded by the people he cared about, finally all together, it was perfect.

And then, a mere ten minutes in, Remus leaned his chin on Patton’s shoulder and pressed into his side.

“Mother Gothel is such a Milf.”

Patton would usually have been put off by the sexual comment, but at that moment Deceit had also seemed to decide that he’d make a good headrest. Which was fine, this was fine. Some mild friendly cuddling- nothing he couldn't handle!

Another twenty minutes later and Remus twisted an arm around his waist. Deceit held Patton’s hand between a couple of his own. By this point, they were beginning to look a lot like the cuddle pile wrapped up together on the other side of the couch. He was still alive, though!

Neither of the sides beside him moved an inch until the film ended, only begrudgingly letting go when Morality had to get up for a snack refill. Even then, they latched back onto him as soon as he returned. Thus began the second movie, and the beginning of Patton's slow and snuggly death.

Every few minutes, it would be something else: Deceit ran a hand or two through his hair, Remus hooked his leg around Patton’s, Deceit nuzzled against his neck, Remus laughed into his shoulder, et cetera et cetera et cetera.

Three movies in and he was barely keeping up with the conversation. His head was spinning and he was sure he’d never been so warm, but more than that he felt protected. Even adored. He wasn't often on the receiving end of affection, and the longing brought with it ached, but he never wanted it to end.

Then Virgil yawned (oh yeah, the other three were still there), exiting from the ending credits of All Dogs Go To Heaven and clicking back to the main screen.

“Bed time,” he grumbled, a tone so intimate and low and clearly meant for his boyfriends that Patton almost felt bad for overhearing it.

“It is getting quite late,” Logan agreed, standing to stretch. Roman followed suit and dragged a sleepy Anxiety up with him.

Virgil tossed the remote in Patton's general direction and let Roman haul him up in his arms (Deceit caught it with an unoccupied arm, given that the moral side’s brain was currently jelly). The three bid their goodnights and were gone with a few shimmers of color and a whoosh.

“I guess we should head up, too,” Patton murmured, working very hard to disguise his reluctance. To his surprise, the traits sandwiching him only sank further into his sides.

“Oh, you’re absolutely right, it’s so very late,” Deceit rumbled, his face partially hidden in the crook of Patton’s neck.

“Yeah, I’m exhausted. I can’t move,” Remus added, his voice ticking up in a noticeably mischievous way.

“I can’t either. We should stay, just like this.”

Patton's heart warmed, looking between their adorably sleepy faces. He couldn’t lie, the offer was tempting, but in such a situation his brain came back to him. Despite the continued proximity of his crushes, this was something he could handle!

“Aww, don’t you worry about it, I’ve got ya,” and, making very sure that his grip was secure, Patton stood up with Deceit and Remus cradled in either arm. He hardly staggered under the weight of the sides, familiar with such heavy lifting.

Remus and Deceit went from sleepiness to pure shock in a matter of milliseconds. Deceit instinctively clung to Patton with all of his limbs, meanwhile Remus gave a startled laugh. Their faces were a matching pink; oh, he could have made them uncomfortable!

“Is this okay? I promise I won't drop you.”

Remus nodded frantically; Deceit squawked in an affirming sort of way.

Relief washed over Patton and, satisfied with the response, he sank out in a circle of cyan. For a moment, he feared that the nausea that The Subconscious usually brought him would unsteady him, but he was left pleasantly surprised when he felt none. In fact, it felt just like rising up anywhere else. Just as easy as breathing. Hm.

He didn’t dwell on it too long, ascending The Subconscious’ staircase and bringing his cargo to the first bedroom he saw (Deceit’s). He nudged the door open with his shoe, carrying them right to the bed and dropping them down gently. Remus fell onto his back with a happy hum; Deceit stayed upright and stared at Patton with wide eyes. He huffed a laugh and nudged The Snake's shoulders, and Deceit let himself fall beside his boyfriend, dazed.

This was routine for Patton: grabbing the covers and blanketing his friends, as he’d done for probably every other side at one point or another (even Logan, though he would deny it furiously). Once Remus and Deceit were sufficiently tucked in, he stood up and dimmed the lights to near darkness.

“Alright, you two have a good night's sleep.”

There was a noise of approval from the pair. Patton gave them one last smile before disappearing back to his own room. To scream into his pillow and think about how gay he was.

Which meant that he didn't get the opportunity to hear the interaction that followed between Dee and Ree.

“Well, that didn’t backfire at all.”

“I want him to snap my spine in half like a glow stick. He could break every bone in my body and I would thank him,” Remus replied dreamily. Deceit hummed in agreement.

“Perhaps we should try a more… direct approach, as this doesn’t seem to be working in our favor.”

“I dunno about you, but I’m feeling pretty fuckin’ favored right now.”

“I was suggesting that we be more-” he very nearly gagged, “Straightforward.”

“More like gay-forward, actually,” Remus corrected, “But I’m with you! You know I love being direct.”

“Now when I say direct, I don’t mean blunt.”

“I don’t understand the difference.”

“I know you don’t. Let me do the talking.”

“Fine by me! Whatever works to get him to pick me up and throw me!”

Deceit rolled his eyes, settling his arms around Remus.

“Yes, yes- but I’m actually wide awake right now, and I’d love it if you keep being loud all night, Dearest.”

“Oh, right,” Remus lowered his voice, curling himself around the lying side in turn. Together, their breathing slowed. As they drifted to sleep, the feeling of Patton's arms around them still ghosted their skin.

Patton was cleaning furiously. He’d already reorganized the entirety of his room- twice, for that matter- and now he’d moved to the Common area. It hadn’t been so much as a week since his last tidying session, and the Mindpalace was pretty much spotless, but that was irrelevant. It was as good a distraction as any.

Maybe he was avoiding the trifecta of trifling traits- aka his best friends- because he knew that they’d ask about why he was being so weird lately. Maybe he was avoiding Deceit and Remus, the reason that he’d been weird lately. Maybe he was just avoiding his thoughts about them, because seeing them all cozied up and sleepy and adorable a couple nights ago really hadn’t helped settle his growing infatuation with them. Most likely, he was avoiding all three.

But he had failed to take into account that The Common Area was not the best place for avoiding stuff. Given that it was. A Public Space.

“Patton,” began the voice of Deceit behind him, in a tone deadly serious.

He spun around to see a very embarrassed Dee and an immensely giddy Remus. Well, Shhhhh-ucks. Shucks.

“Hey!” Patton tossed the sponge in his hand back into the sink and pretended that he wasn’t freaking out at that exact moment.

Deceit hardly registered the greeting, continuing:

“We need to talk to you.”

“What about?”

The Snake opened his mouth, and promptly closed it. His eyes had widened concerningly, and he cast his gaze downwards.

“We-” he cut off again. Patton’s worry was mounting.

“DeeDee?” Remus prompted, elbowing his partner’s side, “I thought you were doing the talking?”

“I-I can do this, I’m not tapping out,” his voice was frenzied, hiding himself behind The Duke in a rare display of fear.

“Guys? Is something wrong?” Patton approached them, all of his nervousness about his feelings forgotten in the face of this distress, “Whatever it is, you can talk to me.”

Remus gave him a warm smile, not hesitating for a breath.

“We came to tell you you’re hot and we wanna date you! But, you know how bad Dee is with words! Anyway, whaddya say?”

Deceit, for his part, nodded in deep resignation. And Patton’s head reeled.

He could hear, audibly hear his heart thumping against his ribs. It was probably as simple as a confession could get, but regardless he found himself frantically replaying the words over and over and over again. He’d never imagined- not even for a second- even the thought of it-

Mentally, he took a step back. Roman, Logan, and Virgil were an item. Remus and Deceit were an item. And Patton was a third party, paternal and caring and watching out for all of them and their misadventures, though he knew he’d never be entirely part of it. But maybe, now he could be. After everything, they wanted not to just be with him, but to be with him.

It didn’t process.

“I- You- What- Me?”

Because there is good in this world, Remus (correctly) interpreted his flustered stammering as surprise and not distaste. The smile that he almost always wore widened and he took a step forward, dragging the mildly less panicked Deceit along with him.

“You,” he confirmed, shimmying excitedly in place, “Definitely you. And us.”

“I second that not-at-all vague sentiment. We’ve grown unfortunately fond of you,” Deceit uncoiled himself from Remus enough to be seen clearly.

Patton saw it. He saw, in full light and understanding, the subtext in their previous interactions. And now that he did, he had no idea how he’d missed it. A testament to the power of his insecurity, probably. But that didn’t matter, because they liked him back.

Patton failed to words. But, they were very near, and he was very happy, and in the light of new context, he figured that they wouldn’t mind the response he opted for instead.

He hopped forward with a delighted squeal, scooping the traits up in his arms. Remus started cackling and immediately returned the hug with just as much fervor. Deceit wasn’t far behind for once, allowing his face to split with a smile equal parts shock, relief, and glee.

“Oh, I love you two so much!” Patton laughed out, burying his face in Remus’ hair.

“I love you back!” Remus said in kind.

Deceit attempted a dramatic groan, but he failed to tamp down his grin.

“It could be said that I feel something love-adjacent for the both of you. Perhaps.”

Patton’s mind was swimming in joy, so much so that it barely registered when Remus tilted his head back only to lean forward, and oh wow, were they kissing. Patton’s vision was all bright blurs of color, and he melted. The creative trait pushed up against him, rough in much the same way as an overly excited large dog. Patton hardly had time to reciprocate the kiss before Remus broke off completely from the hug, unflustered and unaffected by what he’d done, save for a light blush.

“Now you guys!”

Oh, he was still hugging Deceit.

“Only if it’s okay?” he’d barely gotten the apprehensive words out of his mouth when it was suddenly occupied, and the world went back to hazey vibrance. Deceit was almost skittish, a barely-there press against his lips like he expected Patton to shove him away. He didn’t, by the way. Rather, he slid a hand up to rest between the side’s shoulder blades, bringing him nearer.

After a moment, they pulled back slowly, not letting go of each other.

“That was hot, ngl,” Remus chimed from his perch on the counter.

Patton was overcome with a fit of giggling, energy building in him. He ended his and Deceit’s very drawn-out embrace to satisfy the necessity of full body wiggle. He was in Silly Mode, there was no avoiding this until it had been exorcised via The Joyful Movement™. Patton flapped his hands at his sides and shook his hair out, laughing all the while. Today could not possibly get better!

But he remembered his audience of two. He looked up, hair fluffed up and face flushed with fading excitement and a tinge of self-consciousness.

“Sorry, I got over-excited...”

“That,” Deceit announced solemnly, “Was astoundingly adorable.”

“I’ve died a gruesome death,” Remus rolled off the counter and onto the ground with a crash (and some bone crunches thrown in, probably for fun), “My heart overloaded, it has burst. There’s blood everywhere, it’s in my eyes, I’m now also blind.”

Patton’s relief escaped in another bout of laughter, and something lifted in him. A weight that had been there for so long that he hadn’t even remembered it was there, nor how it felt to be without it. But now that it had left, he didn’t know how he had been living with it for so long. There was airiness in his chest, a clarity in his mind, a general sense of contentment rushing over him. This wasn’t a face he put on for others benefit, it wasn’t a fleeting enjoyment of one thing or another- what it was was a deep, thrumming joy that overcame him.

He was happy.

Naturally, Patton could not finish cleaning due to. Circumstances. Those circumstances being, he was finally letting himself indulge in some quality time with his new boyfriends (an identifier he very much liked the sound of).

The trio were half-laying on the Common room’s couch, a tangle of various limbs. Remus leaned against a pile of pillows, and Patton rested his head on his chest. Draped across the both of them was Deceit, fastening all of his arms around them in a manner simultaneously protective and needy. Oh, and also very, very cute.

“This was totally what I was planning from the beginning,” his voice reverberated through Patton’s chest, “God, I am so great at plotting.”

Remus clicked his tongue agreeably, pressing a kiss to the top of Morality’s head.

“Yeah, I was pretty sure we were gonna end up killing you, Pumpkin. This wasn’t even in the ballpark of outcomes.”

Patton hummed in thought, cuddling himself closer to his partners.

“I dunno. I’d say your plan turned out pretty well.”

@deceits-left-glove

@princemesscharming

@shrimp-crockpot

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minstrivia · 5 years

Text

; let’s marvin gaye | m.

— a/n: a late impromptu valentines fic no one was expecting. even me. sigh. i blame mara.

— pairings: kim taehyung x reader ft. park jimin

— genre: smut, angst, fluff, pwp, infidelity, bestfriend!tae

— word count: 7k+

— warnings: angsty aftercare, cockwarming, breathplay, impregnation kink, creampie, cum eating, unprotected sex, hints of ze MONSTER COCK, soft dirty talk, very soft sex, also soft angsty talk that’ll have you falling in love. this is basically too soft for its circumstances okay??

— summary: it’s valentine’s day. and it’s due time he shows you how it feels to make love.

Even under the unyielding burden of your wrathful glare, the steadfast heavy-handed knocks cease to have a respite; it clatters at the metal alloy hinges of the timbered door, agitating the tauten bolts loose and ricocheting off the walls nearby, raucous and maddening enough to have you lodging your forehead to the exterior in a huff. You know who it is, you're not absolutely stupid. You know the only person who'd have the sheer lack of decency to perform such an act at this formidable hour and a brisk squint through the peephole only affirms your intuition.

You groan, skin grating at the wood when you shake your head. Any other day you would have let him in without a second thought, any other day you would have been the one knocking on his door instead and him welcoming you in with open arms. But not now, not when he's said what he's said, drunken confessions that still have your mind reeling in frenzied thought, not when you've been meticulous in avoiding him in every form for the considerable part of a week.

"Tae, stop it," you hiss, hurling your fist to the mast surface, a clear and abrupt thump, in response to his onslaught. "Do you know what fucking time it is?” You're exhausted, way too jaded to handle his trivial tirade and god, you really just want him to leave. You don't have the time, or energy, to deal with this and frankly, you don't have the courage either. “Just...go home. Please.”

However he doesn't heed your pleads, or rather, he prefers not to. He chooses to pose as if he can't detect the drained sighs that mesh your words and he proceeds to rain down on your door with continued urgency. "Y/N, open your fucking door or I swear to god—"

You scoff. From where you're standing you can't comprehend a basis for him to be any bit annoyed, it's him that's caused the problem, it’s him that has you behaving like this. And if it were anyone else, hammering on your door and disrupting you like he is, you'd have had them reported for improper conduct. But it’s not just anyone, it's him, your longtime best friend.

"You swear to God what Tae?” You shout. “Huh? What exactly will you do?"

Taehyung's all talk, you've known him long enough to discern he's much closer to crying than he is to hurting you or anything around him. So his hollow warnings mean nothing and he knows that. His fist halts upon the door, head hung low as he wills himself not to break down before he can even see you. He wishes he could look at you right now, he’ll know what you’re thinking with a single glance, underlying tells he’s committed to memory; the way the bridge of your nose folds in disgust when he’s eating pineapple on pizza in your presence, the slow disappearance of your pretty eyes when you find something really funny or the way your nimble fingers tuck your hair behind your ears as you chew at your bottom lip whenever someone compliments you. He’s got you figured out- almost, he’s got you almost figured out. Right now, he’s not so sure.

And he doesn't want to lose you, not over this, his heart clenches at the chilling thought; missing the sole thing that keeps him sober of ailing feelings, even if it is from a distance. He racks his mind for his next move, nothing but hush heard for a moment that continues for far too long and despite yourself, you start to fret.

This is what it should sound like, an unbothered harmony that you can find solace in, a place where you can neglect all problems unanswered for as long as you want, and yet, as your mind wonders to the boy behind the space of the door, you realise you can't. Your brows groove in question and your knuckles bend at the silver handle, "Tae?"

"I just want to talk," he mutters, placid uncertainty levelling his voice and it's like for the first time you hear him properly, raw and yellow in his pitch while all prior belligerence parts from his appeal. "Nothing else... I promise Y/N. I just need to talk. And— and if you don't want to...that's fine. Just say the word. But please Y/N, hear me out."

"I—"

This is your chance, he’s given you options, and it's now that your lips can frame around the words of 'I'd think it'd be best if you leave' and he would follow through, he'd hate it but he’d respect your decision with obliterated pride, you know that. All you have to do is say the words. But they throttle in your windpipe, you can't even make it past the initial syllable without jamming up. Fuck. "Hold on a sec," you call out, and it’s whilst you unbolt the locks, twist the handle gingerly and unlock the door, you come to the definite conclusion that you are unquestionably going to regret this soon enough. You swallow at his posture, shoulders slumped and his large hand bound around the transparent wrapper that enclothes the beryl stem of a single red rose.

"It's for you," he declares, urging the flower towards you when he notices your lingering gaze. You don't take it though, your arms remain stubbornly by your sides, undaring to make the first move and his lips twist down into a frown, huddling the item back to his chest with heated cheeks. Too soon, he notes. "Sorry, I just... I saw it and thought of you," he mutters, glancing to the ground and scraping the sole of his trainers to the gravel as he avoids your prying stare. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

He sighs to himself, who’s he kidding? It does mean something. This isn't how he'd expected this to go at all, you were meant to be excited to see him, you were meant to tell him that it’s him that you want- that up until now you hadn’t realised it, but now you do. You’re not meant to look at him like this, like the distance between you isn’t far enough. He’s stumped. "Can I come in?"

"Uhm, sure."

You step back when you open the door wider, shuffling back on your feet when his familiar fresh scent invades your smell. You grimace at the action, he’s your best friend, yet, the title leaves a sour tang on your tongue now and you can't figure out where you stand with him. Everything about this right here is so unlike the both of you, apprehensive delayed actions, scanty momentary eye contact and choppy conversation that seems to have no direction. You can't recall ever feeling this nervous around him, your palms are clammy as you coil your fingers into fists and your heart hammers in your throat sorely. It shouldn't be like this. Not with him.

You clear your throat, palms behind you on the closed door, discretion in your eyes as you watch him lay the flower on the nearest counter, slipping off his shoes as if he has no aim of leaving anytime soon. "Do you want something to—"

"Is he here?" The question tumbles off Taehyung's lips before he can stop it, invasive and abrupt in its deliverance. But he won't bring himself to regret it, he observes you closely as you take pause, struggling to piece together an answer and he rephrases. "Is he coming later?"

"Erm—" You frown. Why can't you answer? "I don't—" Maybe it's because you notice the way he purposefully avoids uttering Jimin's name or maybe it's because you know one gander around the apartment will tell how much you'd really hoped Jimin would be coming. And you're embarrassed. You're embarrassed that he can see the ideally set up table for two which has only felt the company of one, embarrassed that he can tell how much effort you've put into this, exhibiting a scarlet silk bodycon that's much too elegant and much too expensive for a quiet night in and you're embarrassed because you both know exactly where Jimin is as of now, you both know that you haven't crossed his mind once tonight and you both know he's forgotten all about the speciality of the days events. "No, he's—"

"Busy?"

You wince at his bluntness. "Yeah."

He hums, shoulders relaxing as his eyes roam up and down your figure deliberately and you twitch under his gaze. "You look...nice," he says, though it's short of what he actually believes, if he were a little more brazen he'd tell you that you look nothing short of ravishing, he'll tell you how pissed he is that you're wearing such a shapely dress like this, for someone who doesn't deserve it in the slightest. "You have plans?" His question is full of pure malice, he knows the answer, yet, he's enjoying watching you fidget in place under his study. He’s trying to understand you, he’s trying to see if he can uncover the motive to your every move, but you give him nothing, nothing but a reluctant shrug. And this- this he can't fathom; why you continue to turn a blind eye at the wrongdoings of your boyfriend even though it's right there, out and exposed. You're foolish.

You let out a dismal sigh, palm rubbing your upper arm for comfort, "Taehyung, what do you want?"

He raises an eyebrow. Taehyung? Not Tae. Not Taehyungie. You utter his full name as if he’s nothing but a stranger to you. "What I want?" He replies.

"Yes." You nod. "What do you want?"

"The truth?"

Another nod, less brave than the last.

He steps forth, tentatively, one carefully placed foot after the next, floorboards creaking in his wake until he's right in front of you, towering and intimidating as he mounts over you and you have to peep up to catch his eyes. Not that you do. You're stifling in his closeness, wanting nothing more than to bolt away into hiding.

He snickers. "You want the truth?" Could you handle it? His large palms come to retire on the apples of your cheeks, fingers halfway swept into your hair when he tips your head skyward, fixing your eyes on his. His hands have seeped with a coldness that shocks your skin, a clear reminder of just how long he'd stood outside waiting for you and his words aren't any cordial. "The truth is Y/N, I want to tell you how fucking sorry I feel for you. This illusion you have, this perfect world you've created in your head... it's pathetic, it's sad. God. You live a fucking sad life Y/N, you know that?"

No. You shake your head erratically, clasping his wrists to pull his hands off of you. But his grasp is strong and unmoving, the balls of his palms rooted firmly in place. You can’t hear this. Not now, not when you’re feeling this fragile, and possibly not ever. "Tae st—"

"Y/N how fucking far gone are you in your delusions to not see what’s staring right in your face? He doesn't love you. Do you hear me? Jimin does not love you Y/N. He doesn't love you, and he never will, no matter how fucking hard you try—" You clamp your teeth into your bottom lip to stop the way it trembles at the ice in his words, he's stabbing at your insecurities, tearing at your confidence and you know all he's saying is the raw hard truth. It's always been a hard pill to swallow, but it's been there placed in your hands, and now he's forcing it down your mouth, dry without ease, the type that stabs in your throat and wells a dam in your eyes. "—You need to get that into your thick skull, Y/N. Don't be fucking naive. I can't bear to watch you keep up this act, what do you want... pity? Huh? You want him to turn around and realise that he's hurting you, that you're wasting away whilst he's out having fun, pleasuring himself without you? Well, that's never gonna happen... okay? You understand me? Tell me you understand."

Your cheeks puff in and out as you try to steady your breathing. “I uhm—” Your nose crinkles into your sniffles, eyes glazing over with a cloud of water that spills downwards, curving over your jaw when you nod at him slowly. "I understand."

Taehyung’s demeanour softens. He knows he’s needed to say this for a while. But he hates seeing you cry, especially when you’re crying over Jimin. God, he hates him. He’s hated him from the very moment you’d introduced him, your smile wide and bright and your hands interlaced with his, as you’d told Taehyung of how you’d met in the coffee shop and you’d called love at first sight. How naive. Yet, he hadn’t spoken his mind, hadn’t told you that you were looking for a companion in the wrong place; and now look at you.

"Shh, don't cry.” His thumb swipes across your cheeks delicately. “He doesn't deserve you. Fuck, no-one deserves you. And, I—" He rolls his lips together, eyes narrowed as he smiles, his expression is sorrowed and yet comforting. "I love you, Y/N. More than a best friend probably should. But, you know that, don't you? That's why you've been avoiding me, because drunk Taehyung has no limitations, isn't that right?"

"I don't—" You shrug. You're at a complete loss. That night when he'd laid his head on your lap, hands wrapped around your thighs, the smell of dark bourbon still strong on his tongue as he'd professed his love for you, detail after detail of how long and how much he loved you. You'd felt guilty for wanting it, you'd been hasty to brush it off because yes, hearing him say it filled you up with something, something that you've been missing for a long time. "I didn't want to take you seriously," you admit, your shoulders falling and your arms swinging by your sides. "I didn’t want to face you because— Tae, you can’t mean that."

"Feel this." Taehyung guides your palm onto the clothed surface of his chest, aligned to the left where his heart rests and you feel it immediately, strong agile beats that make it seem like he's doing something more laborious than merely talking to you. "You feel it? That's you, Y/N. All you. Every fucking time I see you, hear you, think about you, no matter how far you are. I feel sick. You know that moment when you stand up too quickly and the whole world feels like it’s spinning on its axis, but constantly. That’s how you make me feel. You overwhelm me Y/N, my heart feels like it's bursting out its cage, my stomach erupts with this tingling feeling and it's hard to breathe. It's hard to fucking breathe without you. And somehow that doesn't even begin to explain how much I love you." He laughs humourlessly, allowing his lids to close briefly as he shakes his head. And when he opens his eyes again, it's hard to believe you're still there, looking at him with wide eyes, clueless as ever, trying to understand everything he's saying. You won't. At least, not now.

"Don't try to understand it Y/N. Just know that, no matter how much you try to kid yourself. You don't feel this for Jimin. Because I swear, if you really open those cute eyes and see what’s around you, you'll realise that you don't love him as you tell yourself. That you hide behind the safety of having someone, just anyone. This- this nauseating feeling I have, frightened at the mere thought of losing you, complete infatuation, wondering where you are, what you're doing, if you've eaten. This is love. So Y/N, when you ask me what I fucking want. I just—" He lifts his shoulders in a shrug, teeth chewing at the inside of his mouth. " I just want you to feel what I feel."

“You love me?” You ask. You don’t want to believe it. You shouldn’t want to, but god, besides yourself you’re hopeful. “You love someone as stupid as me, someone, who’s been hurting you all this time. You can still stand here and tell me you love me?”

He nods, “I guess you’re the only exception.”

“Oh, Tae.”

If someone were to tell you that your best friend would be standing before you like this, sincerity swimming in his chocolate orbs as he searched for your reaction you’d laugh in their face. If someone were to tell you that your heart would kickstart into a hysteria that dulls at your rib cage when he leans in that bit closer, or that you’d be lost on the features on his face, soft yet defined, dark brows sloped downwards in seriousness. And his usual impish boxy grin drawn into a hard line across his face, with wine tinted lips. You’d be quick to remind yourself that he’s just a friend. It’s laughable now. You're gripping tight at the fabric of his shirt like if you'd let him go he'd disappear and your lips are hovering each other, both parted slightly as you breathe in the same air. His voice is deep, smooth and raspy when he speaks, “I really do love you.”

Your gaze falls to his lips, the supple curves all too enticing in the moment and when you glance up you find him already doing the same. And nothing can stop your next breathy words, "Kiss me."

There's no room for hesitation on his part, not when he's fantasised about this moment for as long as he remembers. So his fingers curl around the curve of your neck, hand resting below your ear, pulling you into him as he breathes you in, lips brushing yours, not innocently, far from it, it's teasing, fiery, passionate and demanding. And when he pulls back partially, almost waiting for you to resist, you push back, kissing him with an intensity that blurs everything else away. It's slow and soft, soothing in ways words will never be and you realise this is how it should feel. His thumb caressing your cheek, whilst you lose yourself in his feel, an unexplainable warmth spreading throughout your entire body. It feels like magic, his tongue pressing to the seam of your lips and you grant him access, moaning softly into his mouth as he takes your breath away feeling his grin against your lips. If you’d known it would feel this good, you’d have done it a long time ago. It’s not awkward like you’d expected, it’s almost natural the way your lips mould together and you have to pull away first, forehead resting against his, eyes closed, completely breathless.

"God, that was—" Your eyes open to his, there’s a dazed content smile that widens your lips as you see him with fresh sight. Has he always been this gorgeous? “How do you do that?”

Taehyung cocks a brow in question. “What?”

He sounds as breathless as you, chest heaving and his gaze entirely lustful. “This. How do you make me feel like I’ve been missing out?”

He chuckles.

"I want you to teach me, Tae,” you say, pointer fingers snaking around his belt loops in hopes he gets the hint. “Teach me to feel how you do.”

"Fuck, are you—"

"Please."

Taehyung's quick to tangle his hands in yours, tugging you behind him as he practically jogs towards your room. He thinks he's dreaming, he's almost sure of it, it's got to be a dream. Yet, the way you jerk at his arm before he reaches the door, twisting his body to face you when you capture his lips on yours again feels all too real. And his hands' fumble at the handle behind him, before kicking the door open with his foot and pulling you in, slamming you to its surface, to force it close. His hands find place either side of your head, trapping you in his hold, as his mouth explores your skin. You feel his hot breath on your neck, then the tender brush of lips, burning fervent as they make contact. "Do you have any idea how long I've waited for this?" He asks though he doesn't expect an answer whatsoever, he doesn't even look for one. His hands grip at your hips, pulling it towards him as his kisses become harder and more urgent, teeth nipping at the surface. "Do you have any idea how much I hate him? How much I hate the fact that he has you and god knows he's never fucking deserved it."

"Fuck, Tae, please," you breathe out, tugging at the bottom edge of his shirt and he helps you in your quest to pull it over his head. Your eyes take him in greedily, his shoulders broad and his creamy skin, curved and dipped with the trace of his toned figure. There's no way you can even compare him to the person you call your boyfriend, not when you're completely mesmerised like this, not when you know Taehyung's the clear winner.

He smirks, "Like what you see?"

"Yes."

"Good. Now it's your turn." His fingers hook beneath your dress, rolling the fabric up as he tugs it over your curves, your arms raised to aid the swift removal. He swallows, cursing to himself when he tosses the clothing to the side and the intensity of his gaze, igniting your skin with a burning fire in his trail makes you want to hide, arms about to wrap themselves over your most intimate parts but his hands grab your wrist before you can; keeping you exposed. "Fuck, No bra? No panties? For him? God, he's a fucking fool."

You blink slowly, heat rising up your cheeks at his words. "Like what you see?" You mimic, hoping to sound a lot more sure of yourself than you are. And he nods eagerly, jaw fixated in its slackened state.

"A lot," he divulges, pressing his jean-clad hips to yours and you feel his obvious excitement, large bulge stroking against your centre, hard and rough. "I like it a whole fucking lot. Now get on the bed for me baby."

You follow his orders, walking backwards, eyes too entranced to leave his for even a second until you bump into the mattress, the collision flattening you against the bed. And you have to drag yourself up by your palms, positioning yourself in the centre, propped up by your forearms whilst your eyes track his movements.

He stumbles around, shoving his jeans and boxers down and before you know it you're giggling at his eagerness. And he glances up, fingers still grasping the waistband of his boxers. "You laughing at me?"

You shake your head, lips pressed together to hide the way the ends of your lips quiver. "Course not."

He smiles. "You won't be laughing very soon," he says and when he tugs his boxers down, kicking it away from his ankles. The laughter dies in your throat like he'd promised because there he is, everything on display for you, his cock, tall, flushed and hard. And it's only when he advances closer you realise just how big he is, his cock is way thicker and longer than you could have imagined, resting against the muscles of his lower abs with the strain of his erection, it’s pretty too, veiny and pleasing, much like his hands; blue and green veins decorating its surface perfectly and it has you gulping quietly, wondering how he manages to contain all of that in his boxers.

"Fuck, Taehyung."

He hums, climbing onto the bed, legs between yours as he hovers over you. "I love the way you’re saying my name," he mutters into your skin, sweeping the angles of your jaw with his lips. His touch is indulgent and his hands, coarse as they are, are silken in their caress; flattening across your collarbones, over the plumps of your breast and past the terrain of your stomach. It makes you shudder, every nerve in your body and brain feels electrified by just this simplicity. And you need more of it. “It’s almost as beautiful as you are.”

“Taehyung please,” you rasp, your hips raising wantonly to his touch as his fingers linger at your pubic bone. He’s got you intoxicated this early on, your cunt aching in your want, clenching over emptiness. He sucks at the skin just below your jawbone, harsh and tenacious and you’re sure of the cherry bruise that’s going to mark the surface when he releases it with a sloppy wet pop.

Taehyung’s not doing any better than you, his cock is twitching in anticipation, but he doesn’t want to rush this, he doesn’t want to treat you like some quick fuck. He wants to show you, worship you, love you. He grunts, “What do you want baby?” He asks, tugging at your earlobes with his teeth and you exhale heatedly.

“Want you touch me please.”

“Where?”

“Anywhere,” you breathe, too worked up for anything coherent. “Just please.”

“Like this?” His digit slips between the cushy folds of your cunt, sliding over the hardened bud of your clit in a way that has your eyes rolling back as you curse.

“Yes, just like that.”

“Shit, you’re so wet, baby,” he mumbles. “So fucking wet and I haven’t even done anything.” Taehyung could definitely get off like this, his fingers rolling your tender clit, your cunt dewy and soppy enough that it moistens his fingers with sticky nectar; watching the way your eyes roll back when he increases his pressure. He drops his middle finger to your slit, rubbing over it sensually, oily and dark, before he sinks the finger inside you, your cunt latching onto his width almost instantly as your jaw drops in carnal pleasure. “You like that baby?”

“Uh huh.” Your response comes out more like strangled noise, when his finger begins to pump inside you, back and forth, a muggy squelch accompanying the languid action. His actions are mockingly slow and yet the build-up of tension comes like a hurricane; his thumb massaging your clit when he adds another finger, a dual lithe override attack on your senses. Your hands grab at his shoulders, nails imprinting crescent moons beneath the surface as you melt beneath him. “Nghh Tae, I’m—”

His other hand twines around the breadth of your neck. “You gonna come for me, baby?” The pads of his fingers press subtly into your skin, bearing weight on the veins that lay underneath the surface. “Gonna cream all over my fingers, yeah?”

You nod, lips wobbling with the whimpers you release. You’re dizzy, eyes blown out with your shortening of breath and his continuous slaughter on your cunt, that only quickens with time. Your back arches from the mattress, head tipped back completely as your body jolts. And Taehyung doesn’t let up, his hold on your neck sturdy and possessive, and his fingers hooking to your g-spot with every thrust. It’s sensual the way he touches you, the way his stare seethes at your skin as you completely drown in body trembling zest. You fall apart before you know it, explosions of hot white blurring your vision as you cry out.

“That’s it, baby,” he soothes, his lips swallowing your moans into his when he kisses you. “Let go.” You drop back into the mattress in a heave, lids half closed, face flushed and panting wildly, staggered swallows to get your breath back when he releases the grip on your neck. “You’re so pretty baby,” he praises, unhurriedly extracting his fingers from your receptive cunt and when he brings them up to your sight, they’re coated with milky fluid that he sucks into his mouth without hesitance. He smirks lugging the digits out of his mouth salaciously. “Fuck, you taste amazing too. So fucking sweet.”

Your hands are ready to push him back, ready to pay him back for the orgasm he’s rocked you with but he’s way ahead of you; stopping you before you can make your first move. “Its all about you tonight,” he says. “I can wait until next time to see those lips around my cock.”

You huff. Next time.

“Right now, I need to be inside you.” He takes a hold of himself, he’s been holding back for far too long now, his tip feels like a torch inflamed leaking excessive amounts of precum that he smears against your cunt with a strained sigh. "Fuck, you're still on the pill right?"

You shake your head. “No, I came off it.”

“What?”

You chew at your lip when he looks at you disbelievingly. You’d stopped using it some time ago, you didn’t find any point of it, not when Jimin was hardly home and the times he was, it surely wasn’t to fuck you.

Taehyung sighs. “I can’t— I don’t have a condom.”

One look at Taehyung you can tell how overcome with lust he is, his skin ablaze with crimson and his veins tense and protrude against his skin almost painfully. And everything blows over your head, responsibilities, consequences all fly away into thin air as your need for him takes over.

“It’s okay,” you declare, combing your hands through his hair. “I want it.”

“But—”

“Make love to me Taehyung.”

“Christ, you’re amazing.” He places a fluttering kiss to your temple before aligning himself at your entrance, steady careful breathes from the both of you as you stare at each other, lost in the maze of your orbs; he drives himself into you gradually. And you grit your teeth, nails clawing into his back with your knees buckling as his cock stretches you open, inch by inch, he delves into the warmth of your cunt, your walls sheathing tight enough around his girth to have him growling at the feeling. "You're so fucking tight. Has the bastard never fucked you before?"

"Nggh, Tae—" The way he sinks into you with restraint, all too slowly has you both panting by the time he's bottomed out inside you, reaching depths you hadn't realised you had, the crown of his cock settling against the wall of your womb. "—that feels so so fucking good."

"Yeah baby?" His hands smooth against your stomach, his cock so thick inside you, he can feel the way it protrudes against your belly, a little curve that indicates just how full he's stuffed you. Taehyung groans, resting his face between your neck and mumbling against your neck. "Look at you baby, fuck, I bet you'd look fucking amazing swollen for me. All full and round with my kids inside your belly." He clenches his eyes shut, gripping at the sheets tightly as his cock pulsates at the thought. And you're not much better off, the brevity of his words, arouse you wondrously, nerves alight at the image of having his kids. "You'd like that wouldn't you?"

"Uh-huh."

"Yeah? You want me to breed you? Have you looking fucking radiant, big and round with my kids?" You gasp. His words are unfiltered, blinded by ravenous hunger and you don’t fail to realise how incredibly possible it is; his raw unprotected cock deep inside you, stuffing you to the fullest you’ve ever been. “God, you’d look so pretty. And mine. All fucking mine.”

The heat of the room is almost suffocating, lavender candles burning fervidly to give light to the darkness, your body sticking awkwardly to the sheets beneath and the slickness of his sweat dripping onto you as he hovers over: forearms keeping him balanced and your legs wrapped around his hips. You've been in this position for far too long, you can't see the time but you know. His cock has been nestled balls deep inside your cunt, hard and unmoving as you pulsate impatiently around him, waiting for him to stop this torture of his. You're too wound up for this, all too needy. But you know he loves it, his self-control is unwavering, his mint green hair damp and ruffled, falling haphazardly over his forehead, eyes staring into yours in intoxicating captivating as his heart beats in tandem with your own.

"God, you're beautiful," he says, and despite the fact that you're the only ones in the room, his voice still travels like a honeyed whisper, as if he's scared he'll scare you away if he speaks any louder. "So fucking beautiful." His palms are eager to explore your curves, smoothing up your waist until the tips of his fingers graze against the undermost flesh of your breast. He takes his bottom lip between his teeth when he grabs at the soft mound of your breast, rolling the perk nipple between his long digits, causing you to moan softly at the feeling. He smiles, "You like that?"

You nod, words lost at the entire intensity of the situation. You should hate the way he's looking at you, hate his half-lidded softness that melts at your heart, hate that you can see it, clearly stated in his bright orbs; love and lust. But you don't, you want- crave more. Your back arches to his gentle touch, breaths shaky and forced when he pinches at your nipple, tugging the nub with less delicacy than he's been treating you with before. His mouth descends on your collarbone, tenderly leaving a kiss at the surface and his arm wraps behind your back, arching you towards him further as he trails his kisses downwards.

His tongue is wet and warm when he swirls it around your nipple lazily, eyes focused on the way your chest rises and falls as you give into him slowly. He's waited too long for you to be here, in his arms, seated deep on his cock and he'd be damned if he doesn't savour the moment with all he has, fingers committing to remembering every curve and mould of your figure, his eyes and ears picking up on every breathless moan that leaves your swollen parted lips. He's sure he's in heaven, hearing his name fall from your lips like this, he knows he's got to be. "What do you want baby?"

You want more, you need more. You're becoming restless, hands squirming at his shoulders and your hips trying to persuade him to move, to finally fuck you like you want. But he's persistent to hear you say it first. "God, please, Tae," you whine as he sucks your nipple into the warmth of his mouth, his tongue flicking out to taste as his teeth tamely bite at the flesh. "I need you so so bad."

He groans at your words, releasing you to rest fully on the bed as he stares down at you, eyes darting around your face for even a figment of reluctance. "Fuck, say that again."

Your hands find comfort by his cheeks, as you force him to look straight at you. This is wrong, so unbelievably wrong and yet, you can't seem to remember why. So you tell him the words he needs to hear, you tell him the words that sound truer than many things you've said before, you tell him, "I need you Tae." And you kiss him, supple lips meeting his in a kiss that feels all too familiar, he's warm, welcoming, loving, everything you know Jimin is not and you sigh softly against him.

"God, I love you so fucking much," he murmurs, his lips never leaving your face as he peppers you with kisses. His palm massages the bottom of your thigh as he hikes one of your legs up, his knees burrowing their way into the mattress.

"Then show me."

"Fuck."

Taehyung's grip on your waist proves to bruise as he moves against you at long last, elongated deep strokes that aren't gentle in the slightest. His hips snap towards yours sharply, every thrust proving harder than the last, a painful torment that has you mewling and keening for something slightly softer. But you know he won't let up. He's determined, thrusting harsher and deeper, desperate to hear the way you whimper at the feat.

"Oh my god," you stutter, nails scratching down his back with the vigour you know will mark at his skin. You've never been fucked like this, slow enough to be teasing yet deep enough to slam at your cervix brutally. It’s too intense and your mind is spinning, the pain of his repetitive hits sharpen your gasps and wet your eyes.

“God baby, do you know how long I’ve imagined this? How long I’ve— Ngh— jerked off to the idea of— Nghh- being inside you?” You shake your head, nothing but strangled noises spewing from your lips as he hammers into you; the slaps of your flesh meeting resounds loudly, his full balls bouncing against your ass and your hip grinding with his. “Look at you, fuck, you take me so well.” His eyes fanatically watch the way his cock disappears into you, your cunt unfolding and your stomach inflating with his every intrusion. “Such a pretty pussy.”

“Ughh Tae, you feel—” You puff out your breathes as you babble. “—feel so good. Love it.”

“Yeah, baby? You like taking this cock?”

“Yes. YES!— fuck.” Your mind blanks, you’re a squealing mess when he hikes both thighs up, ankles resting on the width of his shoulders, fingers supporting your lower back at an incline when he rams into you at a different angle. Now you’re clenching around him, your walls clamping down onto the smoothness of his cock whilst he penetrates you torturously; adrenaline streaming through your veins that keep you from the brink of collapsing. “Please, please, please.”

Taehyung’s panting and grunting above you, completely drenched with sweat and still as collected as ever. “You wanna come baby?”

“Oh, fuck yes.”

He shoves a hand between your thighs, palm grinding down on the mound of your cunt and overcoming your clit with inexorable pressure that has you open-mouthed, mindlessly chanting his name as pure ecstasy combusts inside you. “That's it, baby, come for me,” he husks, his voice is docile, the pace is unwavering as he rocks you through it. And you feel like you’re shattering, surrendering to his heat, trails of fire burning low in your belly as you relax into it. “Hmm baby, you’re so good for me.”

You’re drained, sodden in perspiration, eyes hardly open as you moan lowly. “Want you to come,” you whine. “Want it to fill me up Tae.”

“Shit, you’ve got such a dirty mouth. You talk to your boyfriend like that?”

You deny it honestly. “No, only you Tae. Promise.”

“Good girl.” His hands bind yours above your head when he presses his forehead against yours, it’s slippery, it’s close and it almost masks the way he starts to fuck you; fast, stubborn, impelling his cock into you in an animalistic manner. Gone are his lovingly slow strokes, replaced by battering thrusts that thump at your womb. And you’re caught unexpected.

“Oh my god, oh my god— fuck, Tae.”

He growls, pressing his lips against yours, and for the first time his kiss is crushing, tongue licking saliciously into your mouth, your teeth clashing together and your lips smacking together sloppily. It matches his frenzy, the uncharted lengths of his stamina as he’s pounding into you. You’re still so tight around him, so warm and slick, and when your walls grapple around him again. He can’t hold back any more. "Fuck, fuck, I'm gonna come. Gonna— Nghh— Gonna fill you up with my cum yeah? Get you nice and pregnant for me."

“Yes, yes, yes.”

His pace falters, his arms quickly locking around the meat of your thighs as he delivers three more sharp, precise thrusts before he tenses above you, keeping himself buried deep when he spills into you, his balls ticcing in his release, strings and strings of hot cum swelling you up full. “Fuck,” he groans, pulling out of you with a wince. The feel of his cum trickling out of you is uncomfortable enough to have you mewling and he chuckles. "Hold on, let me clean you up." He places a brief kiss at your ankle before he shuffles downward, leaving sweet fleeting kisses in every place he passes until he’s face to face with your cunt and he moans at the sight. Your lips are puffy and swollen, cunt pretty and pink with thick globs of his release leaking from you. “Think you’re the prettiest cunt I’ve ever seen,” he says, more to himself but you hear it and you’d be embarrassed but you don’t have time for it.

His tongue flattens against the slit of your cunt, and you want to jerk away at the overstimulation but he keeps you in place, arms hooked around your thighs as he begins to lap at your cunt, swirling around your clit. The taste of both of your release merges on his tongue and his eyes flutter to a close, grunting and slurping you up as if he’s starved. But you can’t handle it, your hands tug at his hair to bring him up. “Tae please, I can’t.”

Taehyung grins, licking a long stripe up your clit one more time before coming back up. His smile is wide, and you notice he looks happy, really happy. He collapses beside you, arms pulling your body into his, and you rest your head against his chest. “Jesus, we have to do that again,” he says. “Don’t think I can get enough of you now.”

You hum. Same.

“I love you Y/N.”

You pause. The muted mellow thrum of his heart keeps you at peace, and you know you could stay like this forever, forget the world and find it in Taehyung’s arms. But you’re not sure what it means. At least, not yet. "Tae, I—"

"It's okay."

You nod, because even though you're not quite ready to repeat those three words to him. You know that because of him, you're one step closer. So you look him in the eye, full of arduous sincerity, your lips curve up into a smile. "Thank you," you say. "Thank you for loving me."

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katana-no-neko · 5 years

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More of Eternity (the immortal AU)

"Natsu..." Lucy gasped when he wouldn't cease kissing her. "Come on, Natsu, we've got work to do."

Natsu whined. "Aww, I'd rather stay in bed all day."

Lucy chuckled. "You'd always rather stay in bed."

Natsu groaned when Lucy finally pulled herself away from him, determined not to fall under the spell of his kisses again. He stared after her from the bed as she moved to her closet and pulled out a polka-dotted dress. Lucy flushed under the gaze of his dark eyes.

"Stop staring at me!" she cried, hesitant to pull off her nightgown to get dressed.

"It's not like I haven't seen you naked before," he grinned, laughing when her face burned redder.

"Well- it's different when we're in the middle of- It's more embarrassing when I'm just getting dressed!"

"Fine, fine," he responded, turning over in the bed and burying his face in the blankets. "But I like seeing you, Luce!"

Not as much as I like seeing you. Lucy felt her blush grow but something familiar tingled warmly in her stomach as the stray thought came along with the sight of Natsu's only-boxer-clad behind.

Lucy quickly loosened her nightgown, knowing her boyfriend probably wouldn't stay still for long.

She hummed as she pulled her dress over her head. It felt so cheap to think of Natsu as her boyfriend. They'd been dating for five years, they bought a house together... They might as well be married. She had to wonder why Natsu hadn't just proposed to her already. She would certainly say 'yes'. She probably would've told him yes even two years ago! She wanted to be his wife, she wanted to have a beautiful wedding with a gorgeous gown and all their friends and family. And then they could even start a family of their own!

So why hadn't he proposed yet!?

It made her a little frustrated.

She finished tieing the bow at her waist as she called for Natsu to get out of bed again.

"Come on, we still haven't finished unpacking all our stuff!" she told him while he groaned and climbed out of bed. Really, they'd lived here a week and the small house was still filled with boxes!

Natsu surprised her as he came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her in a hug, leaning his head against her shoulder. He seemed... Tense, for some reason.

"Natsu, are you okay?"

"Yeah, 'm fine," he mumbled. "I just can't believe how much time I've gotten to spend with you," he laughed almost painfully.

"We're in love, most people in love spend time together," she replied, confused. Natsu just nodded before letting her go and spinning her around with one hand. He had a bright grin on his face, leaving Lucy to wonder if his melancholy from moments before had just been something she imagined.

Natsu kissed her forehead before moving away to pull some pants on, tripping over his feet as he did so.

"Come on, you dope," Lucy laughed. "Let's go make breakfast."

"Pancakes!" he eagerly shouted.

"That sounds good, let's do it!" she replied with a pump of her fist.

"Yesss!" Natsu yelled excitedly, grabbing her hand and yanking her to their kitchen, still filled with boxes while they were in the process of moving in.

Lucy opened up one of said boxes. "Do you remember where we packed the frying pan?" she asked, rifling through the contents.

"Uh... Nope."

Lucy snorted and started to pull various other dishes out. "Well I guess now's as good a time as any to get the rest of these boxes put awa-"

"Never mind, I found it!" he shouted, taking the frying pan out of the box he'd just opened. "I guess we don't have to unpack yet after all!"

Lucy crossed her arms in front of her. "We've still gotta put them away! You've gotten me to put it off for too long, Natsu! I'm sick of the boxes!"

Natsu snickered. "Hey, we had to christen the house!"

The girl flushed brightly again. "I- we didn't do it that much!"

He yanked her into him and kissed her. "Yet," he responded after pulling away, voice purposefully husky and eyes full of humor at just how easy it could be to embarrass Lucy.

Lucy's eyes were wide and lips slightly open and puckered after being surprised by his kiss. "I-" she snapped out of her stupor and stomped away from him. "Do you want pancakes or not, Mister!?" she squeaked.

Natsu laughed. "Of course I do!"

She poked his nose. "Then go get the milk off the stoop!"

He kissed her cheek before leaving to do just that.

Lucy sighed dreamily as she got the other ingredients out of the cupboards and ice box. Maybe they weren't married, but he certainly made her happy. Every kiss he gave made her feel warm and elated, even after so many years of receiving them.

"Ooh, we've still got chocolate chips!?" Natsu observed when he set the milk bottles next to the flour.

"We d- that's not an invitation for you to eat them!" Lucy scolded, seeing him pour a handful of the chocolate in his mouth.

Natsu just gave that stupid, charming grin again.

"Give me those before you eat them all," she told him with a laugh, and he complied. Lucy started mixing the ingredients together while Natsu wrapped his arms around her midsection and laid on her shoulder again.

Lucy adored his affection, but... "Natsu, you're making it hard to stir."

"C'mon, lemme hug you," he pouted.

Lucy chuckled and nuzzled against him. "I love you," she reminded him.

Natsu smiled. "I love you, too."

And while Lucy was looking at him with a smile, Natsu was dipping a finger in the pancake batter and sticking it in his mouth.

"Natsu, wait for me to cook it!"

He just snickered again, then took the bowl from her, moving to the stove. "I'll cook them, you just go sit down, okay?"

Lucy pressed a kiss to his cheek in thanks. "I'll go check the mail."

Natsu squeezed her hand before she went out the door. Lucy sighed in content happiness again as she crossed their new front lawn that was in desperate need of some grass seed. Standing at the curb of the often-quiet road as she opened the mailbox, Lucy rifled through the contents.

Several bills already (we just moved in!), a flyer for a community event at the park (hmm, looks like it could be fun! I should tell Natsu...), and a letter from her mother (probably still worried about me living with a man out of wedlock, but I can’t blame her, I suppose.)

Lucy slit open the envelope and smiled as she read her mother's words. The older woman had brought up concerns of Natsu and Lucy not being married, but it was less about the house and more that she wanted to have grandkids to spoil. She also brought up that they missed Lucy, out of their home for the first time, and off on the other side of town in a new house.

Lucy would have to remember to visit them soon. She missed them, too, as excited as she was to live with Natsu. Maybe she could ask Mama for advice on how to get Natsu to propose!

The squealing of tires interrupted her thoughts.

Lucy looked up to see a car careening wildly down the road.

Before she could comprehend what was happening, pain was blooming through her.

A split-second moment of clarity told her she was now on the ground and there was far too much blood around her. She heard Natsu screaming her name and his feet stomping as he ran across the lawn.

And then there was only darkness.

oOo

Lucy darted up in her bed. She ran to the bathroom, throwing up into the toilet as tears started streaming down her cheeks.

It had been just over three months since Natsu had told her everything.

"Lucy, what's wrong!?" Natsu shouted in concern as he ran in after her, the noise and sudden loss of her in their bed startling him out of sleep.

"I-" Lucy choked on her tears and coughed into the bowl. "It was-" She groaned in pain as her stomach lurched again.

Natsu leaned down and pulled her into his arms. "Calm down, Luce. You need to calm down."

Heeding his words, Lucy sobbed against his chest until she was sensible enough to talk. Her tears lasted for several minutes, and even once the last one was soaked into his skin, she still couldn't talk. She couldn't put words to what happened.

"Lucy, what's wrong?" he asked firmly.

"I... My..." Lucy gulped, "Car."

Natsu's eyes widened as the dots in his head connected.

"You died in the fifties?"

Lucy nodded against his chest.

Natsu combed his fingers through her hair to soothe her.

"He was drunk," Natsu explained. "One of our neighbors. Apparently he and his wife fought the night before and he'd run off to drink twice his weight in booze. He was trying to get back home when it happened." Lucy noted how much Natsu was shaking.

"I- didn't realize I was dreaming-" Lucy let out another sob. "It started when we were waking up. I was just there and we were so happy."

"We were," Natsu replied. "Like I said, it was the longest we'd been together since your first life."

"What happened- after?"

Natsu sighed longly. "The only reason I stuck around for as long as I did was because of your family. I figured I owed it to them to let them yell at me after I took their daughter out of home and then let her die."

Lucy didn't say anything.

"Your dad was pissed off. He screamed at me for what felt like hours about how I'd 'stolen his little girl'. Told me it was my fault you were dead. Refused to let me go to the funeral."

"He didn't let you go to my funeral!?

Natsu shook his head. "I almost went anyways, but I ran off before they had it. Just couldn't deal with everything, you know the drill with me."

"Oh, if he were still alive, I'd give him a piece of my-" a small laugh from Natsu interrupted her rant. "...How did my mother react?"

"She didn't blame me. Didn't yell at me like your dad did. I wanted her to. I felt terrible that you'd died even with me right there again. But she just hugged me. Insisted I couldn't blame myself."

"And you shouldn't," Lucy told him softly before another sob hitched in her throat and she was crying again. "The first thing I remember and it's my death..." Lucy cried, lightly hitting his chest in frustration.

Natsu kissed the top of her head while rubbing her back. "It's okay, Luce. At least you're getting them back! There are other, happier memories that might return before too long, right?"

Lucy nodded, but didn't say anything.

#eternity #immortal au #nalu fanfiction #haleigh writes fanfiction #nalu

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treatian · 4 years

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The Chronicles of the Dark One: The Dark Curse

Chapter 208: Two Mothers, Two Children, Two Worlds

It had been a dull two months. Work, work, work…he'd taken to seeing some people again and dealing just to quell some of his boredom. The truth was that at the moment, there was really nothing that he could do except to keep himself busy and watch. Regina was working diligently on the Curse, with a passion for the magic he'd given her as he'd never seen before in the girl. That was good. She was depending upon it; she had faith and a heart in what it was and what it would bring to her. That was very good for him. Since acquiring it, she'd barely been back to her castle, just a few stops inside to gather a couple of dresses and ingredients from her stores, but she soon discovered that the Curse, while simple to create, was not simple to assemble. That was how she'd been spending her time, analyzing the ingredients and gathering them together so that she could create the Curse that would allow her to destroy the happiness of Snow White.

But while Regina was fretting about trying to end that happiness, he had the very distinct feeling that the Queen's happiness was only growing. He hoped that soon enough, something else would be growing too, if not already. Snow and David had enjoyed a very extended honeymoon. With the dwarves placed in charge of the Kingdom in their absence, they stayed at the Summer Palace for the last two months, on their own, usually wearing very comfortable clothes and sometimes wearing none at all. When he caught them in those moments, he was always sure to look away, but the sight of it was enough to give him a small thrill as he wondered if that was the time that they might conceive the Swan.

The end of their honeymoon finally arrived, brought on by the need to attend an extraordinary event he too had been waiting for. When a carriage finally arrived for them at the Summer Palace, the pair were dressed regally again and set off for another Kingdom.

Just as his vision predicted, there were fireworks over Prince Thomas's castle on the night that they arrived, but this time the fireworks were for a ball of a different kind. This was a celebration! A wedding! Snow and David had finally wed and now so had Cinderella and Thomas. The couple had attended the wedding earlier in the day before putting on gowns and finer clothes for the wedding banquet that evening. In a day or so, Snow White and David would leave the castle with everyone else, return to their Kingdom, and their honeymoon would be over. But for now, they were dancing the night away with Cinderella and Thomas, and, much to his own surprise…him.

The Seer was telling him to go. She was urging him to leave his tower and claim his prize for what he'd done for Cinderella now that she was wed, and there was no turning back. His prize…

He'd been purposefully vague the first time he'd met the girl telling himself he didn't want to settle on anything in particular, but if he was honest, he always knew what he was going to ask for.

"A favor"…it had to be carefully chosen, something that would seem impossible for dear Ella to give and yet something that made an exchange with the Savior seem small by comparison. He knew exactly what it had to be, whether because of his own dealing instincts or because the Seer had told him he didn't know, and he didn't care. He was ready to get this underway.

At the ball, he watched from the shadows in his own golden clothes, as Thomas and Cinderella were announced and descended in their finest white clothes to the ball that had been planned for them, the one that Snow and David had chosen to attend as a cap to their honeymoon. Tonight the pair were dancing and smiling at the wedding. Tomorrow they'd be back in their own palace, Snow would probably be dressed in pants as she almost always was these days, and they'd oversee the affairs of their Kingdom as Regina continued to collect the ingredients she needed to complete the Curse that would destroy them and everyone here. He couldn't wait.

But he did wait, for now, watched and waited for the right time to get the princess alone. The time came, of all times during a dance. Dances at balls wouldn't have seemed the obvious choice; they were usually so well planned, the steps were memorized partners exchanged in perfect harmony…until the lovely Snow White undid it all. At a moment when Cinderella should have been dancing with her husband and Snow was paired with an older gentleman, she abandoned him. She disrupted the flow and the steps as the two princesses had a conversation and danced with each other leaving their gentlemen standing there unattended. It was a perfect way for him to get to speak with her and leave without being noticed.

"All I did was get married," he heard the girl explain to the princess as he sauntered closer to get into position.

"All you did was show that anyone can change her life," Snow corrected. "I'm proud of you."

And just like that, Snow fell away, went back to dancing with the gentleman that should be paired with Cinderella, but because Snow had missed the chance to move on and her own husband was now dancing with the next woman in line. He was all too happy to fill the void the small hiccup had left for him.

"I'm proud of you, too," he smiled as she stopped turning. It was perfect. Though she stopped moving and looked at him as though he'd just stolen all the happiness out of the room, he grinned ear to ear and didn't miss a beat of the dance that one of the Dark Ones had fortunately learned in their time.

"You. What are you doing here?"

He grabbed her waist, forcing her to dance along to the music so that it wouldn't look so conspicuous to onlookers, and as he did, he got a whiff of her skin and nearly let a laugh loose. In the months leading up to their wedding, she and Prince Thomas, it seemed, hadn't been nearly as restrained as Snow and David had.

"I just wanted to make sure you were happy with your end of the bargain. You know–true love, riches, happy endings. Did you get everything you desired?"

"Yes. Yes, I did. Now, what do you want?" she questioned coldly, going along with the dance. "What's your price? My jewels? The ring?"

Oh, if only it were that simple. "No, no dear. Keep your baubles. What I want is something you don't yet possess, but something I know is coming…your firstborn," he proclaimed, giving her a spin so that he could step away. He didn't leave her time to beg or time to swallow the pill he'd given her, just left her there to digest what she'd heard. It was better that way. He always had to be what they wanted him to be, and to her, he was a dark and terrifying menace. Getting in and out without notice was sure to leave her just as unsettled as the news that he'd delivered to her.

When he returned to his castle and was able to watch her in his mirror, the look on her face said it all, and he beamed with pride at the work that had been done and the plan that had been laid. That night she'd gone from someone happy and carefree as a lark to carrying a dreadful secret.

She didn't know that she was pregnant yet, or at least she hadn't, but now it was all there in the open. Apparently, her dear step-mother never did tell her what came of late-night dalliances with princes. It was new. He couldn't blame her for not yet knowing. The smell was faint, but it was there. Pregnancy was magical all on his own, and he could always smell it on a woman. Several women in that room were pregnant, he was hoping that Snow was one of them after two months of honeymooning, but he dared not get close enough to her to confirm. Why bother, he trusted the Seer, and now that trap was set-

Nine months

No…more than nine months…decades.

Oh, he nearly dropped the crystal ball in his hand when the Seer began talking to him, warning him that his timeline was wrong. Cinderella wouldn't have her child in nine months; instead, it would take decades because the child…the child wouldn't be born in this world. It would be of this world, how could it not with two parents like Cinderella and Prince Thomas?! But the child, a girl named Alexandra…she wouldn't be born in this world because she was destined to be born in that world; A World Without Magic, which meant that in less than a year, he'd be in the World Without Magic. If the child was to be born in that world, but he knew that the Swan was to be born in this world, that she would outrun the Curse that was coming from him, then that meant…Snow White was pregnant too!

Oh, he'd seen nothing to confirm this yet, he hadn't been able to get a good smell of the woman tonight, and after two months, it was entirely possible that she was only on the brink of knowing! The two women might only be days apart, but it would only take a moment to save one child and freeze the other in time until the curse broke. Snow White was pregnant. He knew it was true, and it was the most beautiful truth he'd ever heard. He had less than a year before he was in the same realm as Baelfire once again.

It was time to make final preparations.

#Rumbelle #Rumple #Rumpelstiltskin #Dark One #Regina #Evil Queen #David #Prince Charming #Snow White #Snowing #Thomas #Cinderella #ouat #ouat fanfiction #fanfic

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youremyonlyhope · 4 years

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The Last Jedi

Here we go. The most controversial Star Wars movie ever (unless Rise of Skywalker has reviews that are just as mixed. I haven’t read any so I don’t know how it’s been received yet.) I actually really really enjoyed the Last Jedi, but I haven’t rewatched it since I saw it in theaters.

Also, unrelated, but literally just a few hours ago I met Oscar Isaac. I was doing a caroling event where I work, and he came by with his son to watch. During one of our breaks, he asked if his son could try the microphone and he held him up so he could whisper and sing stuff into the mic. It was adorable.

I seemed to be the only person who recognized who he was, though one of my co-workers said he had thought so too but he wasn’t sure until I confirmed it. So I went up to Oscar and said hi, asked if he was Oscar Isaac, shook his hand, and thanked him for coming. He says that it was great and that his son loves to sing.

I always joked that I’d bump into Oscar one day since he lives in Brooklyn, but I didn’t think it’d actually happen. And not while I’m wearing a Star Wars shirt and Star Wars socks (which he obviously couldn’t see since I was bundled up in a coat and a scarf and boots but whatever). And definitely not the day before I’m supposed to see the Rise of Skywalker.

I’m still freaking out oh my god. Ok. Time to rewatch the Last Jedi.

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away... This was the first Star Wars movie I’d seen in theaters in like 12 years at this point. Seeing those words on a giant screen again was amazing. “Certain that Jedi Master Luke Skywalker will return and restore a spark of hope to the fight.” I love that line. I love any and all comparisons of Luke to hope. Yes I am biased. But also, restoring the spark is exactly he does in the end so yes, I love it. It’s just now hitting me that we’re picking up exactly where we left off. Having 1 night between the two movies is every different than having 2 years. ...Was that whatsherface from Game of Thrones, Catelyn’s creepy sister? (IMDB says yes) *BB8 beeps* “Happy beats here buddy, come on.” BB8 sort of said the thing! Also, OH MY GOD I JUST MET OSCAR ISAAC AND NOW HERE HE IS ON MY SCREEN WHAT THE HELL. Was today even real? Oh General Hugs. “Skinny guy. Kinda pasty.” Knowing Oscar and Domnhall are friends makes this better. Oh BB8. Very honorable of Billie Lourd’s Lieutenant Connix to make sure she’s in the last ship leaving the base so everyone else leaves before her. I forgot about the chain reaction of bombs destroying their own Resistance ships... You know, Paige dying while dropping the last of the bombs was already emotional. Rewatching it after you know she’s Rose’s sister makes it worse. First Binary Sunset of the movie. General Hugs has a very good upset face that makes me not feel bad for him at all. More like I want to punch him. Snoke can use the Force across the galaxy... forgot about that. I realized I didn’t mention this in the last one, but I remember the crew complaining that when they filmed the end of Force Awakens it was a cloudy day, but then when they went back to the island for TLJ it was super sunny. And now that it’s been pointed out, I noticed it immediately. Luke throwing the lightsaber. I can’t remember if I was spoiled for this but I feel like when I watched it, I wasn’t that thrown off by it. Something else I didn’t mention at the end of Force Awakens is that I LOVE this set. The stone houses are amazing. Oh porgs. Also, that porg looking into the lightsaber always gives me anxiety. The first words we hear Luke say in 40 years are an annoyed “Go away.” which at least is less whiney than the Tosche Station. Oh Chewie’s like “DUDE. WE NEED YOU.” “Wait... where’s Han?” Awww. Throwing in a little Vader’s theme in there. More temper tantrums. People getting mad at Luke calling a lightsaber a laser sword (in a purposefully mocking way) even though George Lucas himself called them that in some interviews. Yes, it’s not a laser sword, but Luke is trying to show how ridiculous he thinks the idea of him taking down everything is by calling a lightsaber that. I remember being like “Luke... no let’s not just milk that thing... oh ew” I do love the shot of Luke using the giant stick to cross to the other cliff and kill the fish. God that’s a steep hill. “No one’s from nowhere.” “Jakku.” “Alright that is pretty much nowhere.” That’s funny. “It’s time for the Jedi to end.” Remember when that line in the trailer made the fandom literally break down? I love knowing that behind the scenes, Carrie had to slap Oscar a billion times. Also, I do not blame Leia at all. So many people were mad about Leia and Holdo demoting Poe, but Poe was too fearless in that moment. Yes, he destroyed the ship and it worked out, but they lost so many people and they already didn’t have many to begin with. It was worth it, but at a very high cost. So I don’t blame her. Heyyyyyy it’s that girl from that Black Mirror episode and what was that other show? Chewing Gum or something? (IMDB says yes it’s Michaela Coel) See and Poe’s already learning a little by asking permission. Of course... later on he doesn’t ask permission... but whatever. Leia’s Theme... causing me pain. Oh, Kylo didn’t kill his mom. We’re supposed to be happy about that? The bar is on the ground. The utter horror I felt the first time the control room was destroyed and Leia was pulled into space. Oh I love the moment when Leia flies in. Because I’d heard that in the books and comics, we get to explore Leia’s Force abilities and stuff but we don’t get it in the movies besides “I feel that Luke’s in trouble.” Which sucks, because she is the “other” if Luke didn’t work out, so she’s just as strong as Luke if she got trained. They should have just trained both kids honestly, why did they pick the boy? Not saying Obi-Wan and Yoda are sexist... but they’re probably sexist. Also, foreshadowing. I actually noticed the hologram of the ship and Leia flying through this time. Oh Chewie. I like the porg that literally has his jaw dropped in horror. Knowing now that the dice were kind of a symbol of Kira (was that Emilia Clarke’s character?) and Han’s relationship makes me not like them as much. Still, cute throwback that they’re still on the Falcon. We can just ignore they weren’t there in Force Awakens (I kept an eye out and didn’t see them) The way Luke laughed when he said “R2!” I just... my heart. “Nothing can make me change my mind” *R2 plays the Leia hologram* I literally just went “AWWWW” out loud because I forgot that that’s why R2 started playing it. Oh my heart. That hurt the first time. Luke standing over Rey, but offering to help her. Parallels. Oh Admiral Ackbar. I love Holdo’s dress. I love the draping. Someone teach me how to make it. “Thank you for making me aware.” Yeah Poe, she already knows. Stop mansplaining. This is literally a case of mansplaining, why would Poe think he’d have to explain to a commander that there’s no fuel? Yeah it’s a little harsh, but is Holdo wrong? All of these fanboys complain about Canto Bight, but forget that it was Poe’s idea. Then they go and say Holdo was too mean should have put Poe in charge. Guys. Poe’s impulsive. We love him, but he’s the ultimate Gryffindor with no fear and will just do anything without considering consequences. I do wish Holdo had been more open like “I have a plan. You don’t need to know all the parts of it. Just let me do what I need to, ok?” instead of “Just follow my orders.” but still. Oh poor Rose. “Doing talking....” Oh she’s so cute. “I’ve had to stun 3 people trying to use this escape pod.” We love a girl who can fight. Yeah. Once again. Not mad at Rose. Finn does have some selfish tendencies, he’s well meaning but ultimately selfish (or at least, only thinking of Rey). So I do not blame Rose for stunning him.

And now I will take a nap since I have to go to a show tonight. And then I will finish the last 3/4-ish of the movie when I get home later.

Annnnd I’m back!

See. Rose has good reason to be mad at deserters. Ok so it wasn’t Poe’s idea to go to the Star Destroyer it was Finn’s. I will give him that. But still Poe went along with it. “That... wasn’t exactly my...” Oh 3PO. I wish Maz had had a bigger scene. More Lupita please. I have one question: from what angle is this hologram filmed? And how does the camera follow her? I guess it’s multiple hologram cameras, but still, it followed her as she rolled and ran around. Also, did Finn call Maz or did Poe call her? Because as far as we know, only Finn knows her. It seemed like they both had the idea to call her, but that Poe had it first. Did Finn tell Poe about Maz? I’m glad they showed Finn handing Poe the binary tracker thing, since for a second I was like “What if Rey had popped up next to Finn on the Star Destroyer?” I’m glad Rey’s first instinct is to shoot Kylo. “Can you see my surroundings?” “You’re gonna pay for what you did.” “I can’t see yours.” Why do I remember that line so vividly? Why does it make me feel so unsettled? Rey, my sweet Rey, I wish you had just told Luke that you saw Kylo. I love Luke’s explanation of the Force. And him messing with Rey was funny. I love when Rey’s reaching out and feeling life, death, peace, violence, etc. And I love Luke saying the Force doesn’t belong to the Jedi, because it doesn’t. The Jedi failed years ago. “You didn’t even try to stop yourself.” Luke’s horrified. But also, Rey’s just like an extreme version of Luke. Yoda knew that Luke’s emotions could make him vulnerable to the dark side, Rey’s already vulnerable. Yeah, I don’t blame Luke for being scared of Rey after he feels like this is Ben all over again. Oh my god. I love the porg that has a metal piece over its head. That actually made me laugh out loud. Poor Chewie.

I just had to refresh tumblr because my draft wasn’t saving. It brought me back to my dashboard. Where there was a spoiler for the new movie and it wasn’t tagged. PLEASE tag your spoilers people.

The water hitting Kylo still confuses me. Say what you will about the Canto Bight plot... the costumes are AMAZING. The costumes literally make the whole side plot worth it to me. Literally I was just in awe by all the costumes during every single scene. And the set! The set’s fantastic too! I literally just paused every single second to take in all of the costumes. Do I care if the Canto Bight trip ended up pointless? Nope! Because it gave me some of Star Wars’ best costumes. Oh... to be an extra in the Canto Bight scene... Just show up... And put on a beautiful outfit... And do nothing else but pretend to drink, talk, and gamble... That’s the dream. Oh hi Mark Hamill! That was cute that they let him voice that little thing. I remember noticing the thing and being like “...is he important?” and nope, it’s just Mark doing an extra voice. Oh I love the Fathiers. Aww and it’s the little Force sensitive boy. I have thoughts about that kid that I can get into later. The way BB8 jingles with the coins. I love it.

Rey: *Does a move with her stick* Rey: *Does the same exact move with the lightsaber* Fanboys: She’s too good too fast! Mary Sue!

As I said throughout all of the Force Awakens, she’s just applying the skills she already had. If anything, a lightsaber’s easier since it’s half the length and she doesn’t have to worry about the back of it hitting her. LOL, remember when we thought this shot was an epic shot of Luke training her? Good times. Oh that poor fish nun. Everything Luke says about the Jedi is true (also did I not say they failed earlier in the post? Luke agrees with me). Rey’s right that a Jedi got Ani to come back from the dark side, but the Jedi’s system enabled him to turn in the first place. Soooooo yeah. Oh Luke. Don’t blame yourself. Kylo was already basically gone. Sure, seeing his uncle standing over him with a lightsaber definitely didn’t help... but it’s not the only thing that made him turn. Who is this captain of the medical ship? He looks familiar. (IMDB says he’s Danny Sapani. I probably recognized him from the Crown) Oh BB8. Finn, did you learn nothing from Rey? Put the cover back on the vent! Awww the Fathiers have such sad eyes... I love the Resistance ring. Can I buy one? Ok. The shot of the bubble egg lady singing felt like it was much longer the first time, but it’s really only a split second. I. LOVE. THE. CANTO. BIGHT. SET. I know it’s a real town in like Italy or somewhere near the Mediterranean. I want to go. I love it. I love that the first thing Luke does when he decides to use the Force again is to seek out Leia. Oh poor Adam became a meme after this. He just has a very wide and bulky body, ok? God Luke looks so scary in Kylo’s flashback. “Let the past die. Kill it if you have to.” That reflection scene is so visually stunning. So in a way, it’s like Luke is failing Rey like he failed Ben. He’s not helping her in the way she needs, so she’s being lured by the dark side instead. I love the walls falling around Luke. “Did you do it? Did you create Kylo Ren?” Rey, he already told you earlier that he believes it’s his fault, so the answer from him is yes. I can’t remember if we hear this story of Luke and Kylo one more time after this or not. “Then he’s our last hope.” Ok ew. No. Kylo is not allowed to be compared to hope. Only Luke, Leia, or Obi-Wan can be. Oh for a second I thought that torch was a lightsaber. YODA!!!!! I think I had been spoiled for Yoda showing up. It was definitely still exciting though. “The sacred Jedi texts!” Oh Luke. Oh memes. Not as whiney as I remembered. “But that library contained nothing that the girl Rey does not already possess.” Because Yoda knows she stole the books. Oh Yoda. I love Yoda. Oh Rose. Ok, so I will give it to Poe that at this moment it doesn’t seem like Holdo has a good plan. Abandoning ship isn’t necessarily cowardly, but on the surface it does seem like it puts them in more danger. Literally earlier today I watched a video about the layout of the Millennium Falcon, and the escape pods were mentioned. And I thought to myself, wow that must be something from the novels since we’ve definitely never seen that in the movies. Welp... I was wrong... Rey’s in one now. I was about to be like “Do they not care that an escape pod just docked?” before I saw Kylo. LOL the iron coming down like a ship. I feel like I remember being completely terrified when Rey stepped in front of Snoke. Oh BB8. Bumping into stuff. I remember being super relieved that DJ (has he told us this is his name yet? I can’t remember) gave back the medallion. Captain Phasma! Hey girl hey! Leia shooting Poe is still funny to me. Also Lieutenant Billie Connix is smart. I love the scene of Holdo and Leia saying goodbye. Also, Holdo’s purple hair with her bright blue eyes is super striking. Good choice. Snoke puts down the lightsaber. Unknowingly sealing his fate. Literally when Snoke reveals he connected their minds, I was like OF COURSE. Because the whole time I’m like neither of them are strong enough to do this. “She was more interested in protecting the light than she was seeming like a hero.” See. And that’s the flaw in both Poe and Finn. And Rey to an extent. They’re thinking about the big picture, but in context of smaller things like seeming like a hero, saving Rey, saving Kylo, etc. But Holdo’s thinking of only the big picture. I knew DJ betrayed them, I just forgot how badly.

And here’s another annoyance (which I was sorta trying to touch on earlier). Everyone hates the Canto Bight plot, yet they complain about Holdo trying to take charge. If Poe just let Holdo take charge and ignored Finn and Rose’s idea, then her plan would have been a complete success. No Canto Bight, no DJ to betray them, all the transports make it to Crait unnoticed, and the First Order eventually destroys a ship that’s empty except for Holdo. They complain about Holdo, but don’t think about the fact that Holdo could have prevented another plot they hated if the main characters had just listened to her.

And then Snoke hits Rey and literally puts the lightsaber back to where it will kill him. Ok literally I just misread a caption that said “Lord Vader” as “Lord Voldemort” and I was very confused. Taking a second to say that I love this set of Snoke’s throne room. Been thinking it forever, but Kylo picking up the lightsaber off the ground and seeing the reflection in the smooth red floor is amazing. Kylo igniting the lightsaber through Snoke is amazing. Also, I typed “Ben igniting” before literally freezing for a second and being like “...ok that’s a lot to unpack” I guess when he does something good my brain thinks of him as Ben instead of Kylo. ALSO, arm #16 and #17, I love that Snoke’s arms were cut off too in true Star Wars fashion. And I am VERY excited to see this fight scene again. I told myself not to pause at all during the Kylo and Rey team up fight, but I paused literally a second into it because Binary Sunset yes.

And my idiot brother and my mom are texting in the family group chat so it’s popping up on my screen throughout this scene. Ugh.

All of these red knight weapons are so cool. And I forgot about the one that gets chopped up... Oh my god one is a sword that transforms into a whip. LOVE. IT. And I love the quick lightsaber ignite through the head. Love it. Woah how is there still 44 minutes? I remember this battle being much closer to the end. I was wondering when the red walls went away, but I rewinded and saw that they had been slowly burning away after Rey made something hit them. Nice touch.

Ugh my brother and mom will not stop texting.

“You have no place in this story.” Wow Kylo, harsh. Oh shoot I forgot about the lightsaber breaking until they started their Force tug of war with it. I’d always wondered what would happen if someone lightsped through something... I want to say that I realized what she was doing before they told us, but now I realize that they basically told us what she would do when the First Order guy said “they’re preparing to hyperspeed.” so I guess I just caught on to the obvious hints.

God that moment still gives me chills. The silence. The way it sort of goes black and white. The multiple angles. So good.

I know for a fact that I spent the rest of the movie from this point on with my hands over my mouth in a constant stake of shock/fear/anxiety. Oh BB8. Some people thought this was ridiculous. But I had just spent the last few months rewatching the prequels before seeing this, and compared to the stuff R2 does, BB8 clumsily controlling a walker is nothing. Oh how I love Gwendoline Christie. I FORGOT THAT WE SAW HER EYE IN THE MASK. I hope Phasma survived. She’s so awesome. Ok my quality is like horrendous right now so I’m gonna refresh. LOL I FORGOT ABOUT GENERAL HUGS NEARLY ATTEMPTING TO KILL KYLO. Oh I forgot how much I love Crait as a set location. OH AND THE ICE DOG THINGS! LOVE THEM! Poe petting BB8 when he comes back kills me. I like those space age two person laptops. “People believe in Leia.” *Binary Sunset plays* My heart. Ok for a second I was like “This first person camera is like a war movie” and then it turns and we see the trench and I’m like “...ok... ok fine but that was very literal.” The red footsteps. Just... guys this set is so AMAZING. Ugh, these red streaks of dust behind them are so amazing. And when Finn passes in front of the camera, it gets covered in the dust and blurs part of the lens. Just like the Rathtar goo in the Force Awakens. I wonder if that’s going to be like... the thing of the sequels. One shot that has the camera lens partially covered by something. Also, I just wasted time trying to figure out if there’s an official name for that or not... oh well. The winding stripes left behind as they weave around... just... amazing. YEAH! GO CHEWIE! GO REY! Oh my god I forgot about the porg roaring. “Oh, they HATE that ship!” I’M DEAD. Look at the salt and how it forms the crystals in the trench. I love it. I FORGOT ABOUT THIS SHOT OF THE CAVE FULL OF THE RED SALT. I LOVE THIS SO MUCH. I remember when the trailer had the first shot of the gorilla walkers, and I didn’t notice at first that there were normal AT-ATs next to them, and then I realized these things were twice as big as AT-ATs and I was horrified. See, and now Poe has learned that you can’t always be a hero and is making a good decision. I forgot about Finn’s speeder literally melting as he gets closer. I don’t understand the people who were mad that Rose stopped Finn. I for one was HORRIFIED at just the thought of Finn dying this way and thankful she stopped him. “That’s how we’re gonna win. Not fighting what we hate, saving what we love.” The kiss is pointless but I love the line and sentiment behind it. Oh god. Ok. Here come the emotions. Binary Sunset is playing. I was a wreck. And a little of Han and Leia’s Love Theme as she sees the dice. I remember actually noticing that in the theaters and half-sobbing. Oh god the forehead kiss. Oh and he winks at 3PO as he walks by. My heart. This is the specific shot of the gorilla walkers and the AT-ATs in a line that freaked me out. That shot of Luke standing up against all the First Order walkers and ships. Amazing. That shoulder brush though. Kylo’s so dumb, he literally just watched that lightsaber get destroyed, he HELPED destroy it. He should have known something was up, it couldn’t have been repaired that quickly. Purposeful shot of Luke’s feet not moving the salt. That Matrix back bend though. “I will have killed the last Jedi.” He said the title. Also, is that the only time it’s said? Because they say it a lot in Force Awakens but I don’t think so yet in this movie.. “And I will not be the last Jedi.�� Ok so now it’s said again by Luke. Purposeful shot of Kylo’s shoe leaving a footprint as he runs to Luke. I’m pretty sure I probably shrieked when he tried to slice Luke in half.

I just now remembered that I’d actually kind of wondered if he’d be a Force projection or something when he first showed up. Because I’d just watched Return of the Jedi like a week earlier and saw Obi-Wan do it, so I wondered if Luke was doing it too. Especially when Poe said Luke was distracting the First Order. It passed my mind and was confirmed when Kylo couldn’t hit him. And here’s where I started to feel like my world was crumbling...

Oh god. My eyes are wet. It hurts. But when I watched it the first time, I really felt like my world was absolutely falling a part and ending forever while I watched Luke die. With the stupid binary sunset in front of him just like when he was a teenager and when he was a baby. One of the first things he ever saw was the binary sunset. I was like “This is beautiful, but that doesn’t mean I’m not completely in pain and dying.” That shot from above of Kylo with the stormtroopers, mirroring a shot from the prequels of Ani. Nice. So do they still have that connection even if Snoke’s dead?

HEY! Hey. Those dice were still visible to Kylo even after Luke was dead... was Leia Force projecting them to Kylo? It wouldn’t take as much work as doing it to everyone else at once from lightyears away. One person, your son, would be easier. So maybe... maybe Leia’s the one continuing the projection of the dice. I’m gonna stick with that theory thanks.

Awww BB8 asked Rey about his antenna, just like when they first met. Remember when people were like “Are Poe and Rey gonna be a thing?!?!?” and of course I’d much prefer that over Reylo thanks. The books! Somehow, that obvious shot of the books goes over so many people’s heads. So many complaints about the books getting burned, when they literally show us that Rey saved them. I had never noticed the bunks in the Millennium Falcon either until I saw that video earlier, and I’m glad I got to actually see one in use since Rose is sleeping in one.

Oh GOD the entirety of the Resistance can fit on the Millennium Falcon... that is NOT good.

I LOVE the scene of the kids retelling the story of Luke. I must have already gone in depth about this 2 years ago, but I love it. Luke became a legend in the end. He didn’t necessarily want to be one, but he’s become one. It was exactly what was in the opening scroll, he restored the spark of hope. That subtle use of the Force by that little boy. With Binary Sunset playing. And I love that last shot of him holding the broom up like a lightsaber.

I nearly forgot that they put in “In loving memory of our princess, Carrie Fisher” at the end. That’s what got me to finally cry. 40 straight minutes of covering my mouth in anxiety, then feeling like my world was crashing down around me as Luke died. Having it dedicated to Carrie made me just start sobbing so hard. Watch that happen again tomorrow.

I remember when I left the theater, at first I was like “What if the boys is Rey’s brother?!” but then... I realized that a huge point of the movie went over my head for a second there.

The fandom got so caught up in figuring out who Rey’s parents are, whether it’s Obi-Wan or Luke or Leia or even Palpatine, that they were mad when Kylo said they were no one. But like... guys... not every single Force user is related to the Skywalkers or anyone else we already know. There were hundreds of Jedi in the prequels, because anyone can be Force sensitive. Obi-Wan’s parents were nobody, Qui-Gon’s parents were nobody, Mace’s parents were nobody. They didn’t come from long lines of Force users (at least in movie lore), BECAUSE THE JEDI WEREN’T SUPPOSED TO HAVE KIDS. The Skywalkers aren’t even a long line, it’s just 3 generations at this point. So literally none of the Jedi of the past came from powerful Force users (or at least from ones who got the chance to become Jedi) since that literally goes against the code.

Luke found at least 11 other Force sensitive kids to train alongside Ben, their parents were all definitely nobodies since he’s the last Jedi. Ben is an anomaly, Luke and Leia are anomalies, the Jedi don’t have kids! The fandom got so caught up in figuring out who Rey could be related to, that they forgot that for millennia the individual Jedi were not related to anyone.

Anyone can be Force sensitive. Anyone can be a Jedi. Rey is an example of that. That little boy is an example of that. That’s why I love that the little Force sensitive boy was the final shot of the movie. He was meant to reassure and remind us after the Rey parentage reveal that anyone can end up Force sensitive. They don’t need a famous/powerful parent. They can come from anywhere and be anyone. And I love that that’s the final note of this movie.

Some people were not reassured. Some people couldn’t handle the idea that Rey’s powerful just because she’s Rey, not because she’s someone’s daughter. She HAS to be related to someone to be that powerful, right? But every Jedi before her who was just as powerful wasn’t related to anyone, so why does she have to be?

ANYWAY! I was actually worried over the last 2 years that I’d rewatch The Last Jedi and not like it as much as I did in theaters. I still like it a lot. Even the Canto Bight scenes get redeemed by the costumes and the set being so amazing. But I love the message of don’t be a hero, this is bigger than just you. And I love the message that even if you’re “nobody” from “nowhere” you could still be Force Sensitive and you could still be a Jedi. I love Luke’s send off, I love that he does end up reigniting the spark and being a beam of hope again. I love it.

And I’m excited to see the Rise of Skywalker tomorrow.

#hope rewatches star wars #ignore me if you want

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storyknitter · 5 years

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Twelve Days of Christmas Prompts - December 21st

Holiday traditions from Person A/B’s family

AO3

Vassanna sighed, rubbing her aching eyes. The words of the seemingly endless reports blurred beyond recognition and she flung the datapad onto the table. Idly wondering why these reports wouldn't simply review and approve themselves, she glanced up when Eli'anara poked her head in with a grin.

“Heya, cuz! How's your afternoon?” Without waiting for an answer, the spacer waltzed into the Commander's quarters, a box filled to bursting in her arms, and continued. “Well, let me tell you, it is better now!”

“Woah, woah, woah,” Sanna said, standing. “What are you doing, Ellie?”

Eli'anara gestured to Seetoo, metal arms laden with an even larger box. “I'm decorating your place for Life Day since you haven’t yet. Clearly.”

“Umm, no. No, thank you. I don't need or want any of that. Besides, Life Day’s nearly a month away.”

“And it’s never too soon to decorate!” Ellie grinned broadly. “I brought stuff from home, too. Look, it’s an artificial tree, like Nana’s – and it even has lights already!” She patted the box. “You can't have one of those silly old holo-trees, you need something with presence.” The smuggler reached into the box, pulling out a strand of green, red, and gold sparkles. “And here’s some garland and tinsel and–”

“I said ‘no thank you,’ cousin.”

“Well, it's so dark and grim in here. You've got to shine the place up for the holiday!”

“I can take care of it myself,” Vassanna insisted.

“Yeah, see, that's what I'm afraid of.” She winked at her flustered cousin. “But in all seriousness, this is why I brought Seetoo, he's gonna help me and you don’t even need to–”

Eli'anara broke off, her hand flying up to her earpiece.

“What do you mean someone's moving my ship? No one touches my ship.” She glanced at her cousin, raising a hand in a sign to stay where she was. “No, you tell them that they can just wait a blissroot-picking minute and I will move the Star Chaser myself! Well, I don't particularly care that they...” Ellie's voice faded as she rushed down the hallway to rescue her ship from a change in parking assignment.

Vassanna dismissed Seetoo and sank down to the couch, glancing forlornly at the piles of holiday cheer. She couldn't do this. Not here, not in her own quarters. She could put on her mask and pretend that she was okay outside of this room, but oh stars, not here too. It was too much.

She leaped up and dashed out of the room to chase down the droid. Issuing orders for him to return the boxes of Life Day decorations to Ellie and Corran – after seeing to Sana-Rae's request for the Force enclave, of course – Sanna turned and headed to the Defender. She let herself into the empty ship, trying her best to ignore the ghosts of her past that still inhabited the vessel. It didn't matter how many times she glanced at the bridge, she fully expected to see Kira there, feet propped up on the dashboard, a smirk and “Hey Boss!” on her lips. The image of her friend and one-time Padawan was beginning to fade from her mind; she wasn't sure if she should be upset or grateful. Was that ‘moving on’?

Navigating the phantoms, Vassanna made her way to the dresser in the bedroom. She knelt and dug through the drawers until she found what she'd been searching for: a small holo-tree emitter. With a nostalgic smile, she headed back to her rooms, prize in hand.

Setting the projector base on the corner of her desk, Sanna clicked the power button and a small, half-meter holo-tree flickered into existence for a brief moment before shuddering out. She frowned and turned to Ellie's leavings, rummaging through boxes, half buried in decorations and glitter. With a triumphant cry, she emerged from a box, brandishing a new power pack and scent pod. After replacing both parts, she flipped the switch once more, standing back with arms crossed over her chest to admire her handiwork.

The little holo-tree glowed bright, its colors changing from red to green to blue, then pink, purple, and yellow as it slowly rotated. The tree blurred as Sanna’s focus shifted, memories dancing before her eyes.

She was ten years old, still dreaming of the Sacking and her uncle gone. But she was home and things felt right, even with a new Master in tow. Among her practical gifts that year – socks, undergarments, and the like – was a metal disc, about fifteen centimeters in diameter. Pressing the button, she and everyone in attendance was dazzled by the little holo-tree. “For the Life Days when you may not be able to make it home,” her parents had said.

Eleven years later, she went back to Mirial for Life Day, this time as a Master herself.

Though her little holo-tree was displayed proudly on the Defender, it was nice – relaxing – to be home again. Her entire family was making a big deal of her crew – T7, Kira, and Doc – whom she’d brought along. Laughter rang out, loud and often. Somehow, her mother had thrown together small gifts for all of them, even Tee. They’d just left Quesh behind, but had received permission for the holiday visit; the Jedi were gearing up to take on the Sith Emperor himself and Sanna was so very glad for the break.

A pang of melancholy tripped her heart. That visit had been the last time she’d seen her father in person, the last time she’d hugged him farewell. Offering up the apology she was never able to give him, she sniffled and stopped fighting the path her mind was taking.

The Life Day after... after their failed mission, Vassanna’s little tree saw two new crew members and a gaping hole in her memories – nearly an entire year’s worth. The entire crew worked their hardest to put themselves back together, for their own sake and that of the galaxy. It saw Lord Scourge participating in holiday events solely because of Kira’s taunting, and Doc trying to make light of the entire situation. Everything felt forced, from the laughter to the music.

She sighed heavily, hoping against hope that her friends were still alive. The pragmatic part of her hoped that – were they not alive – that their ends had been swift, painless, and honorable.

Before Sanna could stop them, images from last year’s Life Day pirouetted across the back of her eyelids: a slim, flat blue box resting on the pillow in front of her nose, a crystal and gold necklace waiting within. Her gaze shifted helplessly to the armoire that was hers alone now; the box and its necklace were tucked into the back of the bottom drawer, hidden beneath her clothing. She'd packed up all of Ther– all of his things, including that stupid old jacket, and asked Ellie to take care of it. Guilt and remorse shot through her and she ignored it; he had made the decision to leave, not her.

Her hand came up, unbidden, to rest on her chest; the place where the pendant used to hang was bare and empty. There was some sort of parallel to be drawn, wasn’t there?

“How could you?” she hissed. “I loved you, trusted you, and you... oh, how could you?”

Sanna glared at the tree, as though it were to blame. This was stupid. Why was she doing this to herself? A sniffle echoed in the large room, followed by a gaspy sob. No. She was not going to cry over him again. Not again, not again, not–

A beep from her comm interrupted, dragging her focus back from the edge of despair. She answered with voice only and found Lana on the other side, requesting a meeting.

“Of course. Give me five minutes.”

“Is this going to be like Koth’s ‘three minutes’? Because I can reschedule if necessary.” The pilot in question could be heard voicing his dismay over Lana’s slander in the background. Stars, Lana was good at knowing when she needed to smile.

“No, I don’t think so,” Vassanna responded with a small huff of laughter. “I’ll be there shortly.” Ending the call, she made her way to the ‘fresher. Splashing water on her face with trembling hands and taking a few deep, calming breaths, she settled her mask into place. She could do this. She’d dealt with worse, she could do this.

A comfortingly familiar warm, spicy scent wafted through the suite of rooms, emanating from the holo-tree. Yes, she could do this.

The temperature on Odessen was still warmer than she preferred for this holiday, but the evenings were getting crisp. Maybe she should grab a cup of hot cocoa from the commissary and head outside after dinner. If she was lucky, they’d have peppermint and either marshmallows or whipped cream.

The thought bolstered Sanna’s spirits and she held her head high as she strode purposefully into the hallway toward the War Room.

#swtor #swtor fanfiction #Jedi Knight/Theron Shan #(sorta)#twelve days of x-mas #and hey look!#new Life Day fic!#oh these two are gonna be the death of me #;)#ah Life Day angst!#(you knew it was coming right?)#oc: Vassanna #Vassanna/Theron

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carmineclock · 5 years

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Why Don't You Do Right

Snowman 11:10 PM

> Fade from black before Scratch's desk. "James. We have a situation."

Scratch 11:13 PM

> You look up at her with eyes strained from reading. Why cant it ever be good news. "Oh good, Id begun to worry the quiet would last." > Sit up and prepare for the worst.

Snowman 11:14 PM

"Diamonds Droog's daughter is dead. Three has killed her."

Scratch 11:17 PM

> Your first thought is that shes not really his daughter, but they never see it that way. "Trace has. I knew he shouldnt have been left alone. I assume hes on his way." > Youre actually a little impressed. Pissed, mostly. But still.

Snowman 11:21 PM

"Yes. Three, Five, and Seven here are on their way here. I will also call for Nepeta shortly. Five has known of it and has been covering for Three, perhaps since it occurred." > You light up a cigarette. "You know what this means."

Scratch 11:24 PM

> You stand and stretch, joints popping dully as you shake the exhaistion from your bones. "It could mean quite a many things, my dear. War, being the foremost."

Snowman 11:30 PM

"Diamonds torched the scene of the crime--a lashing out quite unlike him. Trace has brought war to our doorstep." > Take a deep drag. "It's only a matter of time before the Crew comes to our doorstep as well. Time we have lost a precious amount of while these...fucking imbeciles tucked tail and hid the truth from us to avoid consequences." > Blow the smoke at the ceiling. "If this were the old regime, they would be culled and recycled for parts the moment they walk through these doors. This is the last straw, James."

Scratch 11:37 PM

> That brutality is one of the many things you love about her. And she has a point, in this being the last straw. "A fair point, though humans are far more difficult to recycle than carapaces." > You set about making tea, strangely calm despite the slowly building rage. Maybe its shock. "We'll have to be ready, though preperations for defense can wait until I have all the details. The grievous misstep was in waiting to say anything. Selfish man, we'll have to do something about that terrible personality."

Snowman 11:44 PM

> You lean against the ledge of his desk, arms crossed, as you consider the back of his head. "I do not know all of the details myself. So far as I was aware until a few minutes ago, there had only been a shadow magic fire that took out a funeral home in the Crew's territory. I had Three and Five investigating--god." > Click your tongue distastefully. "They lied to me. To my goddamned face. Fin made some excuse, said Trace was still... I bet they never even left the comforts of their room. I cannot... And to tell Clover before me. Who else have they told? What were they thinking."

Scratch 11:54 PM

> That pulls a frown across your previously placid face. That wont do at all. "That will be our opening, I should say. Whatever the war ahead brings, the lying must stop." > Your hand grips the kettle tightly, anger rising as steam billows around your face. Lies, deciet, fear, and cowardice to top ot all off. You should have nipped this in the bud before. "How is it such a small man can cause such large problems."

Snowman 11:59 PM

"By getting off as easily as we've been letting them." > You ash your cigarette and nearly miss the tray. "Should have broken every bone in their miserable goddamned bodies after all the backsass and trouble they've been giving us. Especially together..." > Chew your lip. "If only your lot were as easy to reprogram as my lot. That would solve these issues in less than a heartbeat. But it never should have gotten to this state in the first place. How did it come to this?"

Clover 12:00 AM

> Knockknock, knockknock.

Scratch 12:02 AM

> Tea done, you call for him to enter. Though you werent expecting him first, you were expecting him. He likes to get involved,even when he shouldnt.

"Its true, there is something to be said about the faulyt of unruly soldiers lying in thoer commamders. I blame myself as much as them."(edited)

Clover 12:04 AM

> Let yourself in and close the door behind you, hands hooked behind your back and a rather somber expression on your face.

Scratch 12:06 AM

"Stay quiet, stay calm. If you make a scene, youre out. Understood?"

Clover 12:06 AM

"Understood."

Crowbar 12:16 AM

You lead the way to Doc's office. The door is cracked so you announce your arrival and let yourself in, standing aside so Trace can go ahead. You're both surprised and unsurprised to see Clover. You acknowledge him with a nod.

Trace 12:18 AM

> You're on your way, tailing right behind Crowbar. Time for the walk of shame. You pass him, and when you spot Clover on the way in- Urgh. Here you thought your heart - or you, for the matter - couldn't sink any lower. You enter and quietly wait in the middle of the room. Quiet, but far from calm. A stress headache is pounding in your head and being stared down by all three bosses and the guy next to them that probably hates you the most does not help in the slightest.

Fin 12:26 AM

Your face is still red from the slap you got from Snowman. You get inside the office noding to your bosses and wishing you could hug your husband. Clover is completely ignored for now as you stand right next to Trace hands behind your back

Nepeta 12:31 AM

You finished quickly throwing on some clothes and trying to wash your tears away. Water doesn't hide your bloodshot eyes though, or the fact that your hair hasn't seen a brush today so far. You look like a mess, fitting to your mental state. You briefly glance at Fin and Trace as you enter the office but quickly look at your bosses instead. Less painful.

Snowman 12:36 AM

You remain poised, leaned against the edge of Scratch's desk, arms crossed tight over your chest. The cigarette between your lips is smoldering, filling the air with its smoke, but it is not near so smoldering as the glare you send around the room.

Clover 12:39 AM

Fin is likewise ignored as he enters, but for Trace you briefly glance to his eyes before tearing your own away. Nepeta, though, is given a sympathetic look and an attempt at a tiny smile.

Scratch 12:54 AM

An absolute party, and you, the ever gracious and gentle host, will be the one to kick things off, as it has always been. "Now then," You say, standing behind your desk. "Lets start with the facts, only. We can deal with emotions later. As it stands, and as I have it, Trace has taken it upon himself to end the life of Diamonds Droogs adoptive daughter, one Aradia Megido. Resulting in a funeral parlor in crew territory being burned. After this, an investigation of the events was carried out by Trace and Fin. Those are most of the facts, but we are missing some." Deep breath, steady eyes, looking around the room slowly. " Snowman, Crowbar, when were you notified of Traces actions, and by whom. Trace, how many days has it been since you killed the troll girl. Fin, when did the investigation of the fire take place. Nepeta, what was your roll in this. All facts we must add together to have the full picture."

Crowbar 12:58 AM

You stand in front of the door like a sentry, holding your crowbar behind you. "I found out moments ago, sir. I instructed Trace to inform the rest of the Numbers promptly before being called into your office."

Trace 1:11 AM

More people enter, first Fin, and then Nepeta. You turn your head just enough to recognize her, then fix your eyes back towards the front. On the desk, not Scratch himself. You can't stand to face anyone right now, but least of all your lovers. You've managed to drag them even deeper into this. Great. You collect your thoughts to answer to Scratch. "I have killed her on New Years Eve." (Which would be maybe a day ago. No more than a day and a half. This should be the evening or night of the 1st, considering Trace didn't want to wait too long after talking with Kankri.) With that, your response to Doc should have been finished. He's not looking for more words from you just yet, you know that. But if there's any time left to do stupid mistakes, it is now. Quickly, before anyone else can speak up, you continue. "When given the order to investigate, I knew it would be too dangerous, with police and crew about and surely watching the scene. Green would have been more than a bad look. So I told Fin to stay put while I figure out how to approach you with this topic. Nepeta has purposefully not been involved in any of this. The plan was mine, and mine alone."

Fin 1:24 AM

After Trace finishes you clear your throat and answer " I did not follow Snowman instructions of investigating the burned building , I wanted to give Trace time to talk about the truth to all of you and because as Trace mentions it was a dangerous thing to do"

Nepeta 1:37 AM

You do look at Trace when he speaks, even though it hurts. He wants to talk for you and you aren't sure how much you appreciate that right at this moment. You know he means well but it leaves a small frown on your face. You speak up on your own anyways. "I was unaware about all of this until the day after, when Trace confessed to me. I should have immediately contacted you but..." But you didn't want to rat them out, even after they hurt you. You don't think you have to spell it out. "I only told Clover. I'm sorry."

Snowman 1:51 AM

You clutch tighter to the inside of your elbow, eyes leveled between Trace and Fin both. "I knew of the fire shortly after it happened, and had tasked both Three and Five with investigating it, should it prove to useful to us. I found out about the murder a few minutes ago, when Clover called me and forced Fin into a position to confess to me."

Clover 2:42 PM

Discontent and distaste boils in your stomach as you watch all of them, though still all your expression shows is a deep worry for Nepeta. She's the worst hit here, and she never deserved this. You wish you could help.

Scratch 4:20 PM

You let each of them speak in turn, waiting patiently, logging the information to write down for later. The timeline is slowly filling in, giving you a much better picture. "So there it is, all the facts are out in the open. The deed was done a day or so prior, and it was only today that any of those with actual power found out. Very interesting." You let that sit for a moment as you pour yourself some tea. "So, then, as it stands, of the three of you, none of you are without fault. Nepeta, yours is the least, only in that you told no one despite having the information. For that, consider this your second strike. Im sure Traces actions will find a way to punish you further. Fin, your fault is almost equal to that of Traces. You knew of his plans, allowed them to take place, and not only that, when given an express order from your superior, you ignored it in favor of your lovers instructions. If it was dangerous, if it was a bad idea, then you should have blamed Trace for whatever may have occured. Instead you decided not to follow orders because you knew. You knew what would happen. You should be on your knees, begging for forgiveness, because Snowman will be in charge of your punishment, as it was her order you shirked." Your eyes turn to Trace, thin, icy, a muted rage in their depths. Your gut had warned he would do sometging stupid, but you trusted him.

"As for you, Trace. You dont get hand out instructions. How dare you contradict Snowmans order. If something befell Fin in this investigation, then he should have suffered the consequences doing his duty. The plan was yours alone? Are you an idiot? Did you really think your actions wouldnt effect others around you, especially those closest to you? If you needed time to approach us, all that tells me is that you knew what you did was the wrong move. Nepeta was left out of it? Really? After eveeything shes been through with Droog, you think this incredible offense wont effect her going forward far more than it will you? Cruel, cowardly man, to bring ruin on your own partners" Your tone turns darker. "Worst of all, Trace. Worst of all, is that you left it for us to find out. Fearful of the reprecussions? You dont know fear. But you will. A man who knows fear does not make fruitless mistakes for the sake of his own vanity. It seems our last talk left less of an impression than Id hoped. So let me make this clear. You are going to lose everything. The specifics will take time, we will have plenty of time to go over them. Snowman, please escort Fin and Nepeta out of my sight. Crowbar, stay, I will have need of you."

Crowbar 2:26 AM

You can't help but swallow, your collar feeling tight around your throat as Doc speaks. Even though he deserves it, you empathize with Trace. He is your friend at the end of the day. You fear he will not be the same person for very long. Stepping aside, you leave room for Fin and Nepeta to exit.

Trace 2:30 AM

You listen with quiet horror. Of course, not even a day was good enough. Of course all of it is getting turned against you. When the strike for Nepeta is mentioned, you go as pale as your green skin can. You open your mouth in protect, but you don't say anything. Bullshit. That's. That's not okay. That's not fair. Your mouth closes as Scratch continues with your own repercussions, almost numb to what you hear. A loud ringing takes over your senses. Fuck. You're frozen to the spot. He didn't say that you're dismissed yet. Even if, you're not sure if your legs could carry you with how weak in the knees you feel. From the sound of it, your first punishment may be delivered by Crowbar himself. Great. Not like threatening and punishing your lovers was already bad enough.

Fin 2:38 AM

Your eyes are ringing with the blood that is flushing when you hear about Nepeta's strike. This was not the way you two intended things to go, even with Trace assuming all the blame you know you were there to encourage him and offer him help so obviously you are partially to blame for what happened too but she didn't deserve this at all. You almost miss the moment when Scratch dissmisses you as you were too tense and that shows in the way your shoulders slouch once you have to walk out of the office. As you get escorted outside you take a second to reach for Trace's hand and touch it for a second, you wanted to say so many things but you just softly whisper that you will be waiting for him.

Trace 2:56 AM

Your heart skips a beat when you feel Fin's touch, but you don't dare looking up at him, nor at Nepeta when she follows him. You don't need to see their worried looks. You know them well enough to imagine how concerned they might be about you, the idiot that got them into this, while the guilt over the trouble you caused them is already quickly eating away at you.

Snowman 10:34 PM

You feel nothing much beyond, perhaps, pity for the part of Nepeta, though even that is minimal in light of the circumstances. Though you are curious to know what will lie beyond this door once it closes behind you, you have other things on your mind: namely, the man already slinking out of the door ahead of you. Nodding to James, you take Nepeta lightly by the elbow and steer her out of the room, eyes fixated on the back of Fin's head as you walk.

Clover 10:53 PM

Some part of you deeply wants to get up and bolt out the door to follow her, to protect her, to be her lucky charm- but you know there's nothing you can do until this is through. You watch them go until the door closes, and then you watch Scratch alone.

Scratch 1:17 AM

Silence takes the room as they file out, and you find a sort of solemn sadness taking the place of anger. Youd trusted Trace. Of course he was always going to be an idiot, but you never expected...well, it doesn't matter now. "So here we are." You say quietly, in almost a whisper. "You know, however it may seem, Ive always had high hopes for you, Trace. Youre strong, and fiercely loyal." Thin, gloved fingers trace the rim of your teacup idly. "It had been my hope to one day groom you for leadership. You have everything youd need, except the brains. Youre not half as smart as you think you are, Trace. You dont know, but you act like you do. Did the thought ever occur to you that I might actually want the girl dead? That there were ways to take her out that may have benefited us all? I hope you understand that youre not being punished because you killed her. Its not so simple." You sigh, looking up to Crowbar and beckoning him over with a sharp flick of the wrist. "You need to learn to think before you do, Trace. That the things you do effect other people. That there are other ways than your ways. I know you hate me, I dont pretend to be kind or pleasant, but I do know what Im talking about. Its why Im in charge, and have been for longer than youve been alive. When I call for your respect, its not because I think Im better than you, its because I have experiences that can help you be better and I want you to learn, I all but begged you to learn. Unfortunately now you have to learn the hard way." You move around your desk, standing in front of it now. "Its going to be a slow, painful process, but with any luck, youll come to understand why this has to happen. Come here, hold your arm out, place your hand face down on the desk."

Trace 3:39 AM

Suddenly the room felt much quieter, despite the fact that barely anyone but him has talked the whole time. Maybe it's also just your senses your senses going more and more numb by the second. What a lecture, all these wonderful backhanded compliments, just as he's about to give you probably the worst time of your life. You're left with a sour taste in your mouth when he mentions all his grand plans. Groom you for leadership. God, just what you need, a job you hate even more. You try not to look around the room much, eyes still fixed on the desk, the very platform that's about to become your scaffolding. You do take notice that Clover didn't leave the room yet though. Does he really want to watch this? Boy, does he hate you that much now. You welcome any thought that distracts you from what's about to happen, but this train of thought leads you to even more unpleasant places. Makes you wonder just how flippant his feelings are, or if he ever really cared about you if he is so easily swayed. You know what is expected of you and step forward. You briefly consider which hand to offer since it hasn't been specified - they're your most important tools after all - but decide on your right one, keeping the one with the ring safe, if at all possible.

Crowbar 8:33 AM

If you're nervous, it doesn't show. You take a swift breath and approach as you are motioned to do. You stand by Trace, a chill running through your veins to numb any sense of sentimentality. You have to distance the personal from the business. Looming over Trace, you turn your attention to Doc, awaiting further instruction.

Scratch 7:42 PM

"Nothing to say? You pleaded so nicely for Fin and Nepeta, nothing for yourself? The bravado died rather quickly once your lovers left, you may want to think about why that is." From your jacket pocket you pull out a dark green marker. Such a damn shame. Not only do you have Trace's mistakes to clean up, you also have to ruin a perfectly nice suit. Whatever his flaws, the boy has has style. You step over to his outstretched arm, eyes wandering up until you find a spot you prefer. Its so hard to stay classy when doing dirty work, but you do what you can. You mark the middle of his arm, drawing a fat line across his sleeve. You think the instructions speak loud and clear, so you pop the top of the marker back on and tuck it back into your pocket. Now you'll see what Crowbar's word is worth.

Trace 8:38 PM

You stay quiet. No, nothing else to say. What would even be the point? Beg for forgiveness? There's nothing that will sway Scratch from his ruling, and frankly you had it coming, right? And the last thing you need is talking yourself even deeper into trouble. You purse your lips and close your eyes, preparing for the pain. You don't need to watch that, you'll be feeling it soon enough. If anything, you're sorry for Crowbar having to do this. He's stern and hard-working, sure, but still caring at his core.

Crowbar 8:42 PM

You watch Scratch carefully and when he watches you, in turn, you know it is your time to step forward. Gripping your crowbar tight, you focus on the line drawn on Trace's arm. Your heart gives a single empathetic squeeze before the cold steals away your remorse. A job is a job. You plan to do yours well. Without a word, you raise your weapon up and bring it down with a sickening crack.

Clover 8:45 PM

You flinch, just a bit, as the weapon swings down. You don't have the job that he does for a reason- you don't know how to willingly remove yourself from someone you've spent so much of your life with. You didn't watch.

Trace 8:57 PM

A sharp excruciating pain shoots through your arm. You do your best to hold back your reaction lest someone out there hears you. It's not quite a yell, but an agonized grunt escapes you. As the pain dulls, your head starts getting dizzy and you slowly sink down onto your knees before your body can force you. Last thing you want is to pass out right here. You pull your arm close to your body, lean against the desk for some support and wheeze heavily as you wait for further instructions. God, he better not plan to break any more bones.

Scratch 10:09 PM

Your eyes never stray. You watch the crowbar hits its mark, the way his arms snaps like a biscuit under the weight of the blow. This is your order, and you'll see it through. Theres no room to flinch, or to look away, not for you, not for Crowbar. He did well. In a world of self serving men, you're glad for someone like him. "Well struck, Crowbar." You compliment easily, eyes moving down now to Trace as he falls. You have more to say to him, but not here. Not on the showroom floor. "Though I really should have the other one as well, we'll let that stew for a bit before taking any more. Please escort Trace down to the holding cells."

Crowbar 10:12 PM

"Yes, sir." You slip a hand under Trace's good arm, hoisting him up to his feet and placing him between you and the door. "Come on, Three," you say, an almost gentle tone hiding beneath the stern command, "You know the way."

Clover 10:24 PM

It's been some time since you felt your heart pound with so much raw emotion that you can't even pin down what it is. Your chin is tilted down to the floor, and you await your father's comment or command.

Trace 10:39 PM

You go along with Crowbar. You have little intention to resist any of that, but his support certainly helps getting up and walking out of the door. Off to the cells, huh. Sure will be an unpleasant night, it seems.

Scratch 10:48 PM

So the curtain falls on another show, well performed all around. The only one who reacted differently than you expected was Clover, but you have your own reasons for wanting him to be here. You turn to him as they leave, stepping between them and him as the door shuts behind them. It was important for him to be here, as far as you're concerned, there was more accomplished here than just the breaking of bones. "My, that was certainly exciting, wasnt it?" You say cooly, tilting your head towards him. You wonder if it was worth it for him. You wonder if he was glad to be here.

Clover 12:20 AM

"You could call it that," you reply with a shrug. Your expression is something around the ring of neutral, and you lean against his desk. Your heart cries at you to chase Trace down to the cells, to tell Nepeta everything as soon as possible. You silence it. "Word I'd use is tiring."

Scratch 9:19 PM

"Tired, are you?" You move back around your desk and pull out your notebook and a pen. "It seems to me the tiring times are only just beginning. Especially for you and your position so delicately balanced between the factions." You start writing. It will be easier for you to remember all the information if you write it down for later. This is just one of many outrages you have documented.

Clover 9:23 PM

"Shocker, right?" You shoot him a lopsided smile, stare up at the ceiling. "Everything I've worked for is going to have to be rebuilt."

Scratch 9:40 PM

"Hmm. Can it be rebuilt? Thats good to hear." Youre only half listening now, trying to recount things as they happened. You still have to clean Traces room out and also go and see him in the holding cells. "Do you regret being here when it happened, or the part you played in it all?'

Clover 9:46 PM

You consider it for a fair moment, as you often do before you give him his answers. Would you have rathered someone else in your place? Would you have preferred that you didn't act as you did? "....No."

Scratch 9:55 PM

Interesting. Such a complicated boy, this one. Even though he didnt watch, he still preferred to be here for it. "They certainly wont thank you for it." They meaning Trace and Fin, if you have a proper understanding of their relationship, that is. But youre glad he was here, and that he stayed. It shows them how much more hes like you than them. "Ah, just for my own curiosity, when did Nepeta tell you about all of this, and how long after Fin explained the situation to you did you involve Snowman?"

Clover 10:24 PM

"About an hour and a half or so ago I spoke with Nepeta, then immediately sought out Trace. Once I had spoken with Trace, I left him to make the decision if he was going to inform Crowbar of the situation as he should himself and sought out Fin. I found him not long before this meeting was called and called Snowman shortly after confirming he was complicit in the plan."

Scratch 4:18 PM

You make a note of it. An hour isnt bad at all, timing is everything in these matters. In most matters, really. Not that you would honestly know how to punish Clover if he did make the wrong move. Lucky for both of you he's smart enough to know better. "Right. If thats all for now then, you're dismissed. Please keep in mind that Trace is not allowed visitors." Except for you, but you're the exception to all rules, considering you make them.

Clover 4:24 PM

"No hug or gossip?" > Little smile. "I s'pose you've got a lot to do."

Scratch 4:31 PM

You smile, taking a pause in your writing. "Unfortunately you're right, theres much to do. In any event, I didnt think you would be in the mood for a hug, everything considered. Last I recall you were rather close to those three."

Clover 4:41 PM

"You'll get it eventually," you say, the tiniest hint of teasing in your voice.

Scratch 8:55 PM

Honestly, you're not entirely sure what he means. Whats there to get. "What is it I'm meant to be getting?"

Clover 9:03 PM

"Me, of course!" > It's on that note that you turn to leave, humming.

Scratch 10:01 PM

You dont go back to writing right away. Why do you feel like he got you? Did you just get got? Whatever. You have too much to do, and as always both too little and too much time to do it.

Trace 12:57 AM

Shortly before arriving at the cells, you stop. It's hard to think or remember much of the conversation through the fog of pain and shock, but parts are slowly coming back and one hits you especially hard. 'You're going to lose everything.' It's hard to imagine the extent that Scratch means, but if he says everything... you have little doubt that he very much means everything. "Crowbar. Can I- can I make a request."

Crowbar 1:01 AM

You pause. Take a deep breath. Doc might not appreciate you showing hesitation or concern in this situation but he isn't exactly around. Can't hurt to hear him out. You ask, "What is it, Trace?"

Trace 1:05 AM

You wince a little as you let down your broken arm, now without support, as your other digs into your pocket. You pull out a little bundled tissue, inside the rings from your most recent engagement. You hesitate for a moment, not sure if you should really dare to ask. But you're not sure what else Scratch got planned for you and you don't want to put these at risk if you can avoid it. "Could you... give these back to Nepeta?"

Crowbar 1:09 AM

You furrow your brow, taking the tissue and inspecting the rings. Your mouth opens and closes as your mind conjures up conflicting responses. Cold, warm, understanding, curt... You can't decide. With a heavy sigh, you tuck the rings safely into your breast pocket. "Anything you'd like me to tell her?" you ask.

Trace 1:20 AM

That's actually more than you expected. You think for a moment, trying to find the right words. "That I trust her. I want to trust her. I really do." You blink a few times as tears are welling up again. You wanted to tell her yourself, but you're not even sure when you'll get the chance for that. "Thank you.."

Crowbar 1:24 AM

You nod, patting the rings hidden away on your chest. You keep your words of sympathy to yourself but you feel it goes without saying. You continue on your way, regardless of your heavy heart.

Trace 1:25 AM

You follow, at least one little worry lighter, but still too many remain.

#logs #I can't believe Trace is gonna die #violence tw

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rebelwheels-blog · 6 years

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Little Sparrow Freed From Its Cage

September 24, 2018

Per aspera ad astra - Through adversity to the stars

Hello there everyone! I have quite a bit of news to share with all of you lovely readers, as it has been quite a while since my last update. Hopefully my writing habits will be a bit more consistent now, due to the main reason I am writing this update. So grab a cup of tea, or coffee for you Americans, and be prepared for a lengthy blog entry.

Commencement to Independence

For the longest time, it was my belief that graduation was just another event where I would only witness others experience the joy of being released from the dictatorship of homework and the school setting.

Much of my student experience has been infringed upon due to various circumstances; whether illness was to blame, being placed in classes my superiors wrongly believed I belonged, or unwillingly leaving the only place I called home, as well as exiting the lives of many I held and hold close in my heart.

Not everyone experienced the same scenario as I did, which is wonderful. Even so, for much of my life there was a common denominator.

Adversity.

Due to my disability, my experiences and memories of the school setting are extremely unconventional.

Which leads to the less self-pitying part of my screed. If it weren’t for all those obstacles, and more, throughout my existence as a student, graduation would not grant me the same satisfaction and pride as it does now to declare to you all that I am no longer a high school student. September 21, 2018 was the day I was set free.

Although there are plenty of memories I have to look back on that made my school days less dreary, so I shall not admit that every second of my years at school were terrible, as I had the good fortune of making a few friends along the way as well as learning some lessons that allowed me to grow as a person.

So I thank all of you who have stuck with me through the good times and the not so good times, because I couldn’t have made it here without you.

I’d especially like to thank my first teacher who set me on the right path to homeschooling. You know who you are, with your huge green duffel bag full of wonderful toys each day as we sat in the garden room. Thank you for always being there for me academically and as a friend. You mean the universe to me.

Every experience and every person that one encounters affects the future, individually and worldly, good or bad, long or short. Because, who knows? Maybe one day someone who experienced something they perceived as awful will change the life of another so someone else will never experience what was already lived through by another.

Celebration?

To celebrate this momentous occasion, my grandmother and I designed what would normally have been the top of my cap to go along with my gown.

Then we made a message in a bottle, with the message being the poem The Road Not Taken as it is our favorite poem.

But the most important component to all of this is the timing of everything that has unfolded over the past few weeks.

Enjoy the first ever gif I have ever created, of course it’s to do with Stephen

I managed to finish the last of my exams the day directly before my grandmother’s birthday, which was coincidentally purposefully happened to be on my cousin’s birthday. Then, on Friday, I was officially set free from my classes on the birthday of my great grandfather. Everything took place over the course of three days, and three birthdays of three people that mean the world to me.

Funnily enough, exactly one week to the day, another event unfolded spontaneously. I was granted the most amazing graduation gift. A friend, a very old friend, of tremendous significance and value to me. We had not seen each other in almost nine years, but we always kept in touch. Last Wednesday, we broke our hiatus and had lunch together with our grandparents. I felt like I was in a dream. I couldn’t believe we were even in the same room. He has seen my old self, my pathetic self, and my happy self, and he never left. He’s one of a kind and I don’t know what I would do without him. Making him laugh after taking a nervous drink of water while we were at lunch and burping due to my liquid consumption was one of the highlights of our visit together. Hopefully we won’t have such a lengthy hiatus between seeing each other again, which neither of us believe will happen. I already can’t wait to see him again.

Then on the Saturday following that Wednesday, I swam with my other best friend who happened to come home from college that weekend. I honestly don’t remember the last time we just chilled out in the pool, or anywhere, and hung out like two normal teenage girls. Granted I did complain quite a bit about school work after we got out and had lunch, but that wasn’t the entire visit. It felt so normal to just hang out with my best friend, and I can’t thank you enough (you know who you are if you’re reading this). I couldn’t have asked for a better way to finish my classes.

But graduation is supposed to be a big deal, right? A huge celebration is supposed to take place, right? Well, I honestly have no idea how else to celebrate my accomplishment. I would love to have a party and do something the way everyone else does, but many of my friends and family live far, far away. So out goes that idea... Nevertheless, if no other celebration takes place, I am forever grateful for being able to visit with my friend from New Jersey thanks to his and my grandparents.

Moving Forward

Now that I have soooo much time on my hands, I don’t know what to do with it! Well, I do, but it’s only been almost a week since I finished my classes and it’s still rather odd. I spent the weekend creating and improving a sort of sketch that puts together my Halloween costume. Yes, I’ll be 19 by then and many will say I’m too old to do Halloween, but you know what? Adults are allowed to dress up and have fun too. Halloween is not just about the candy, well not to me anyway. To me, it’s about letting yourself be free to be whatever you want to be for one day of the year. As it seems that it is only socially acceptable to dress up when one is an adult around Halloween, if one were to dress up any other day of the year you end up being labeled as a psychopath.

Okay, maybe not a psychopath, but anyone dressed up as a character or dramatic makeup is worn outside a concert, theatre club, comic convention, or Halloween, etc., side glances and glares will be made.

I decided that I will be dressing up as my own version of Sherlock, as long coats are as much of a pain to get on as a dress. I have a few components of my costume together, but I still need the hat, scarf, and maybe shoes? I may just go with a pair of short boots that I have as finding shoes in my size is an entirely different story.

I wasn’t sure if the coat I had would look Sherlockian enough, so I decided that I would put together a sketch of my outfit to see how it would look. So I put this together.

Originally, as you can see, there was no face. But I worked on it and worked on it over the past few days and this the outcome. In the beginning I did trace the undershirt, but that’s it. I figured out the rest. I’m very proud of it, as it is the first drawing I’ve done in quite a while that I haven’t gotten angry with.

Having this freedom has made me realize that after a few days of numbly looking at social media, I am suddenly craving to learn new information and I miss my math and science classes. I think that within the next week I will unconsciously start to read books again just from the slight need I’ve had to expand my knowledge again. Maybe I’ll even start writing stories again due to new knowledge, as I have written down a few ideas for short stories the past few days. In the words of a good friend, the possibilities are endless.

Spinraza News

Luckily I have school finished to get through my next injection. I was reminded that I have to go through re-approval from the insurance, making my injection date is a week later than I wanted. This week I have to get blood drawn again as well as other tests.

Speaking of tests, I had to do a strength test last week, my first one after having Spinraza. My results have to either stay the same or improve in order for the insurance company to say I can keep having Spinraza. Needless to say, I was terrified that I wasn’t going to improve due to their standards. I’ve noticed more strength in my legs than my arms, granted my right arm is noticeably stronger, but I did not anticipate the evidence the strength test would grant me.

The first test was to tear a sheet of paper. No big deal, right? Wrong. I had to try to tear a piece of paper that was folded four times. I tried and it didn’t happen. So my physical therapist unfolded it so it was in half. I believed that I was trying to tear it wrong as I was using my nail to start the tear. But I was wrong. That’s how you physically tear a sheet of paper when you pinch it. So when it cooperated and I split the paper down the middle, I was like “okay, I could totally do that before Spinraza.” Again, I was wrong. When I did the baseline test, I was able to rip the paper but only if:

it was started for me

it was a single sheet unfolded

it only ripped sideways not straight down

My physical therapist kept my old paper and showed it to me to prove that I had improved. After I saw the paper, I felt like Captain America

Go ahead, enjoy that gif because Tumblr doesn’t allow more than 10 images so that’s the last one guys

Once I completed that question of the test, the test was gravy. I was actually able to do other things as well such as:

lifting a weight I couldn’t before

completing a short maze test without stopping my pen

pressing a stupid light button and making it stay on

opening a container that was entirely too difficult when I tried six months ago

I gained 5 points in the scoring system, from 11 to 16 points. I still can’t get over it. So much has been going on the past... Well, year, honestly. Between myself and my family members, it’s been nonstop.

Well, I think I’ve written enough for this update, probably too much... But whatever, if you guys enjoy these updates you don’t mind. If you don’t enjoy them... Well... ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

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misssophiachase · 6 years

Note

Can I request KC + any cheesy Hallmark Christmas movie. Any of them.

Thank you!!! Awesomeprompt. For some reason it’s not so mini, so sorry for the delay. Okay, I’ll admit that I took some liberties, I mean there are way toomany to choose from so this is a different spin. I think I kind of morphed intoa Hallmark movie writer with all this cheese and fluff, hope you still like it!

Not Another Hallmark Movie

“I’ve worked with animalsthat are better behaved and trained than you, Mikaelson,” she hissed.

“Only because they can’ttalk. If they could I’m sure they’d have some pretty choice things to sayabout such a Princess, Forbes,” he shot back.

“Cut!”

“You are such an…”

“Well, you’re no picnicyourself sweetheart.”

“I said Cut!” TheirDirector, Enzo St John, growled. “You don’t get creative license,children. This is a bloody Hallmark movie and you will do it as I say. So, justfor your information, the lines actually were, I love you Jacob. I think Ialways have but I’ve been hurt before and Christmas is such a difficult timefor me after losing my father.”

“And then Jacob says,”Bonnie Bennet, their long suffering producer, added through grittedteeth. “I would never hurt you Grace and if you let me in, let me love youthen I can prove that to you everyday of our lives.”

“I much prefer my line,”Klaus shrugged his shoulders, unmoved by their terse interruptions.

“As I do mine,” Carolineagreed, arms crossed over her chest. Agreeing was something the two actorsnever did, just ask the rest of the cast and crew. They’d been bickering eversince their first day on set and things didn’t seem to beimproving.

“How about we take abreak,” Enzo sighed. “We’ll pick up in twenty minutes and maybe you twocan learn your bloody lines.” The crew scurried away, no doubt to enjoy somedowntime from all the drama.

Klaus made his way to hisdressing room, slamming the door shut in the process. Who was Enzo St John totell him what to do and how to do it? He remembered the second worse decisionhe’d ever made so clearly. If he could have blamed it on alcohol he would havebut this was all her doing.

“Hallmark? Ah, no Lucien.”

“You didn’t even let mefinish…”

“Because you used the Hword,” he muttered. “I thought we spoke about having that networkexorcised from any future contracts.”

“You need this role Klaus,if anything just to get you back on your feet,” he pleaded. “The roleshave dried up since…”

“I don’t need you to tellme that,” he growled, finally stopping his pacing. “But there must besomething else, something on HBO? I saw they’d green lit a pilotabout the Clash.”

“The Joe Strummer role hasalready been cast.”

“Oh don’t tell me, it’sthat talentless idiot, Tyler Lockwood?”

“No, it’s…”

“Well, don’t keep mehanging, Lucien. You know, I’m a big boy, I can handle the truth.”

“Stefan Slavatore,” hemumbled, his brown eyes now firmly focused on the floor.

“The brooding, James Deanwannabe? He’s not even English and is definitely more boy band than punk. Anddon’t even get me started on his obsession with his hair. Could that guy ownany more hair products?”

“That’s probably why hehas that lucrative endorsement deal with L’oreal.”

“I bet his mother is soproud,” he groaned. “Why do talentless and undeserving losers like thatget the good roles?”

“You’ve been out of thegame for a bit, people tend to move on after you pass on roles,” he offered,albeit weakly. “You experienced a monumental loss and it’s understandablethat you needed some time out but…”

“You’re even starting tosound like a bloody Hallmark movie now.”

“It’s your only chance totry to resurrect your career Klaus, trust me on this.” Klaus was silent,thinking about his options.

Not that Klaus liked toadmit it readily but Lucien was right. But was his career more importantthan his pride? Klaus knew the answer and prepared his response carefully. Hallmarkand their latest Christmas cheese-fest could go fuck themselves. “The female part is being played by Caroline Forbes. She’s a verytalented and versatile actress. Actually grew up in the same town as you, Imean what a coincidence.”

That Klaus wasn’texpecting and he felt his chest constrict and an immediate craving to be closerto her again, if so just to try and make things right. “Fine, I’ll do it.”

It seemed as if Klaus hadcome full circle his worst ever mistake crashing into his second worst. She was just as flawless as he remembered when they met for rehearsals amonth earlier. Even with that scowl plastered firmly on her face, Klaus didn’tthink he’d seen anyone so beautiful. Even her latest insults couldn’t deter hisadmiration. If Klaus could do things differently, he would have.

“Now, that would have tobe your best tantrum by far.”

“If I wanted an audience,little sister, I would have chosen one a lot less sarcastic and hostile.”

“You’re not going to findone, Klaus,” she insisted. “Especially if you keep acting out this way. Noone will ever hire you again.”

“Always the publicist,” hedrawled, rolling his eyes for extra effect. “Did you ever think that maybeI don’t care?”

“And what about Caroline?”His eyes flew to hers, Rebekah always had a tendency to push his buttons andtoday was no exception. Caroline had pursued a modelling career but hadrecently excelled in a few cameo roles. “This is her first leading movie role,do you want to ruin it with such childish behaviour?”

“I’m pretty sure Hallmarkwill do that all on its own,” he joked. “Look, I realise Caroline is oneof your clients but that doesn’t mean you can use our sibling status to guilttrip me into staying. I’m sure that they can recast me with some bland, kendoll type. Maybe the gods are smiling on us and Stefan Salvatore is actuallyfree?”

“No one has chemistry likeyou and Caroline, trust me we’ve all seen it.”

“That was a long timeago.”

“Really? Because from thatforeplay I just saw out there, your connection is stronger thanever.”

Klaus knew it too, notthat he was willing to admit it aloud and to his sister and publicist of allpeople. He loved her, Klaus had never stopped. Suddenly he felt like he’dstepped into some weird, Hallmark vortex.

“Yes, those insults werereally romantic.”

“I know you miss her, weall do” she implored, her hands finding his. Klaus knew they weren’t talkingabout Caroline anymore. “But that’s no reason to throw away your career orCaroline in the process.”

Klaus knew she was right, hedidn’t speak, just squeezed her hands affectionately before making his waytowards her dressing room purposefully.

“If you’re here for roundtwo, I’m not interested,” Caroline scoffed before he could get a word in. Shewas seated at her dressing table and regarding him suspiciously in thereflection of the mirror.

“I don’t know,” he smiled,thinking just how much he’d missed their lively banter. “I thought we’dclocked up at least twenty rounds by now.”

“And to be honest, I’mtired of it,” she sighed, closing those blue eyes momentarily. Klaus knewexactly what she was doing.

After making love they’dlie naked together in the moonlit filled room, their limbs entwined and Klauswould recite all the reasons he loved her. Her creamy skin, her golden waves,her melodic laugh and ability to render him completely useless were frequentmentions but his favourite, he’d say, were her eyes. They were the windows toher soul, he’d say, and Klaus used to murmur that as long as she kept her eyesopen everything would be okay.

“Open your eyes, love,” hemurmured, making his way towards her dressing table and running a hand alongher cheek slowly.

“You don’t deserve that,”she whispered, a single tear making its way down her cheek. “You don’tdeserve me.”

“I don’t,” heagreed. “I lost that right after…” Her eyes flew open as she pushed awayhis hand.

“After you walked out onme,” she sobbed, standing shakily and increasing the distance between them. Shewas wearing a thin dressing gown and Klaus could make out the lace accents ofher underwear and the way they strained against the swell of herbreast.

“I didn’t want to hurtyou..”

“Yet you did exactly that!How long have we known each other Klaus? Twenty years now? We climbed treestogether when we were eight. You took me to my prom senior year and cheered meon at my college graduation. God, we dated for three years but even after wemoved our separate ways for career opportunities we were still close. You wouldcall me whenever Lord of the Rings was on TV because you knew I hated itand recited the dialogue verbatim, then you’d berate the latest tabloid storiesabout my love life because you were the only guy that was worthy of my timeapparently. I can recall so many conversations, so many life events with you presentand that was the thanks I got for being such a loyal friend?”

“I wasn’t in the righthead space that night Caroline, my mother had just died,” he explained. “Iwas spiralling out of control and had been drinking.”

“I wanted to be there foryou the night of her funeral, to support you in your time of need.”

“And I took advantage ofthat,” he murmured, remembering it like it was yesterday.

He’d woken, unsure of hissurroundings at first but then he felt her against his chest. He would neverforget the rhythmic and even sound of her breathing or the fact the thesunlight spilling into the room was highlighting the golden flecks in her hair.She looked like an angel.

He left hurriedly,throwing on his clothes and racing from the hotel room. Klaus knew it wascowardly but having to face her and explain the previous night and hisscrambled emotions was too much after burying his mother yesterday.

As the months passed,Klaus began to miss her name on his caller ID and almost hit the call button amillion times, if only just to hear the sound of her melodic laugh telling himhe was an idiot. But he never called and it was the biggest regret afterleaving her that morning without a goodbye.

“I’d rather not revisitmemory lane,” she said, breaking Klaus from his dream-like trance. “But Iam curious, why are you doing this film? I mean you break out inhives when you even hear the word Hallmark.”

“It was all for you,love.”

“Oh, if that’s a line, I’mso not interested in hearing anything more Mikaelson…”

“It’s not,” he persisted,making his way towards her and placing his hands on her shoulders gently.

Her blue eyes were widenow and Klaus could see that the anger and hostility he’d seen for weeks hadsince been replaced by curiosity and that raw vulnerability he loved so much.He knew there was a brief window, If only he could just explain himselfarticulately. Her vanilla scent was putting him off somewhat, so too her closeproximity. “I needed to be here, I needed to make things right after Iroyally stuffed them up.”

“That’s certainly anunderstatement,” she growled.

“I was scared,” headmitted, fastening a lock of hair behind her ear. “When Esther passed away sosuddenly it knocked me around so much. She was the most important and biggestpresence in my life. That morning when I woke up and saw you lying next to me Iwas so frightened it hurt. The thought of ever losing you, like her, was toomuch to comprehend in my emotional state.” She was silent for a momentobviously processing what he was saying.

“But you walked out onme.”

“I figured that if youweren’t in my life I couldn’t lose you. I know it’s not an excuse but you arethe only woman I’ve ever loved and even if you weren’t in my life I could stillwatch you from afar and it would be okay.”

“But yet you show up onthe set of a Hallmark movie.”

“Obviously that poorlythought rationale didn’t last too long. I was desperate, I wanted you backeven if it was a long shot.” She cocked her left eyebrow curiously, a slightsmile tugging at her lips.

“Do I have this right? You signed up for a Hallmark movie for me?”

“Desperate times and allthat,” he smirked. “Please tell me my efforts haven’t been completelywasted?”

“I’ll tell you what’s beencompletely wasted,” she said, her hands finding their way to his hips andpulling him closer. “Your talents.”

“Huh?”

“Your talents are wastedin this kind of film and we both know it,” she mused. “So, what I want youto do is march out there and tell Enzo you’re quitting.” Obviously she didn’twant to see him again but Klaus couldn’t blame her.

“Do you really hate me thatmuch?”

“I don’t unfortunately,”she teased. “You need to snap out of this funk. Esther wouldn’t want this for you and we both know it. You need to get back tothe roles that made you who you are and you need to stop stalking me too.As much as I appreciate the explanation, you are sounding more like a Hallmarkmovie everyday and I can’t have that.”

“What roles? There are none.”

“I heard about the ClashHBO series, that would be a good start.”

“ApparentlyStefan Salvatore has already been cast,” he groaned, hating the fact he even had to say his name aloud.

“I wouldn’t be so sure,Mikaelson,” she grinned knowingly. “You just need to have a little faithin yourself and your craft.”

“So, if I do all of that,do you think there’s any chance you might ever forgive me for being…”

“The biggest ass in theworld? I’ll think about it,” she smiled, placing a chaste kiss on his nose.Klaus melted into her embrace, not wanting to let go but also glad she’d heardhim out and was willing to consider a future, whatever that might be.

“So, before I go and annoyEnzo, Rebekah and my manager I have one question myself.” She didn’t respondjust raised her eyebrows in preparation. “Why did you take this role? Imean it’s not really your thing either.”

“I already have amodelling career, acting is a hobby right now, but it doesn’t hurt that there’sat least a dozen scripts sitting there for my perusal.”

Klaus looked over at the table,noticing the large volumes of paper for the first time. From this distance he could seethe title Oceans Eight on one of them. He wasn’t sureif it was related to the Soderbergh box office hits but if it was CarolineForbes was going to be a big star.

“And I’ll be therewatching your career unfold from afar, love.” He was gone before she couldrespond. His spirits buoyed and his heart open for the first time in over a year, telling him they’d meet again some day.

So, their ending wasn’t aHallmark one, well not that day anyway. Fast forward two years and Klaus wasstarring in the latest Scorcese film, Caroline in Spielberg.

“So, where can a girl geta drink around here?” He’d know that melodic voice anywhere, his crimson lips curving into a smile.

“I might be able to help you with that.” She sat at the neighbouring barstool her leg grazing his briefly and causing all the familiar feelings to resurface. He said he’d wait and Klaus was hoping she was finally collecting.

“Which is exactly why I came to see you,” she smiled. “We have a lot to talk about, Mikaelson.”

Turns out they did. Exactly three months later the two childhood best friends were married and happened to live happily ever after, just like in fairytale or a really cheesy Hallmark movie.

#not another hallmark movie #klaroline drabbles #misssophiachase #thanks for the awesome prompt #lbeartakestheworld

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thejokersenigma · 7 years

Text

Joker x Reader Deadly Voice Part 35

Hey guys,

I would just like to say a huge thank you to everyone who is sticking with me on this fan ficiton! I really appreciate the messages I am getting! I love them - they honestly make my whole week!

So here is the next part, quite short compared to what I have been doing recently, but hope you enjoy anyway - i wasn’t really sure where i was going with it as you can probably tell!

Enjoy! :)

P.S. If anyone wants to be tagged whenever I post a new part I am happy to do that, just let me know!

Masterlist

I spent the next day berating myself for that night. I couldn’t get over what I had done or even how I had done it. It was like the incidence with the newspaper and Hannah all over again. But this time I had a weapon, first a knife and then - thanks to the generosity of the Joker - my gun.

I tried to seek comfort in the fact that I hadn’t actually killed him, though this wasn’t particularly reassuring as I knew I would have quite happily. At least now I knew that it wasn’t the Joker that had set up my job with Penguin, and therefore set up everything after. No, life had just happened that way.

This didn’t change my opinion of Jake, but it made me hate the Joker a tiny bit less.

I tried to keep that night’s events out of my mind and move on from it, promising myself something like that would never happen again. I just had to keep my head low and stay away from those that might do me wrong.

Of course I had managed to lose my job through my actions. Darren couldn’t exactly keep on someone that attack his other staff and threatened their life – completely understandable I thought. Besides, I had already talked myself into leaving the club thanks to Rebecca pointing out that the Joker might turn up any night looking for me.

And so I was jobless again.

For the next few days I didn’t really leave my tiny flat, I just sat on my laptop searching and applying for new jobs. It wasn’t that there was a lack of jobs as such, more that I was becoming more and more picky toward them. I needed something that would cover my rent, but I was also now purposefully looking for venues where I didn’t particularly like the staff - thanks to Rebecca’s obvious point – I didn’t want to destroy anyone else’s business by attracting the wrong crowd and I couldn’t predict whether the Joker would ever come looking for me again.

It was a few days after I had confronted Jake when there was a knock on my door. I had been curled up with a hot drink, once more scrolling through the same ads I had scrolled through at least 5 times before, when the door sounded and I jumped at the sudden noise.

I frowned at the door – who on Earth was it? No one knew where I lived and I didn’t really have any friends to tell in the first place. It must just be a charity or something, but they would have to have e buzz them in. My heart dropped, it must be the landlord for some reason – had my rent not gone through? I had only just managed to scrape enough together to pay for this month, I couldn’t afford any more problems - I really needed a new job soon.

Another series of knocks rang out and I placed my mug down on the coffee table, throwing my computer off my lap and unfolding myself from the sofa, making my way to the door.

I pulled it open, already apologising to the landlord for whatever I was being accused of.

I blinked in surprise at the man before me. “Oh, uh - Hi Frost.” I greeted.

“Hello [Y/N].”

I quickly glanced either side of him, searching for anyone else that might be lurking in the corridor, “He’s not with me.” Frost reassured me.

“Oh. good.” I muttered lamely, straightening up and glancing around awkwardly, searching for something to say as we stood silently in the doorway. “Um… Can I help you?”

He watched me for a few beats, as though measuring me up or looking for something before he seemed content and gave a small nod, “Yes.”

Oh lovely, he was being vague. “Uh… Would you like to come in?” I asked, knowing he was clearly after something, but also not willing to save the both of us a load of time and just come out and say it.

“Please.” He answered and I nodded, stepping back and pulling the door open in invitation. Frost stepped over the threshold and looked around at my small, rather dingy flat - no change occurring in his facial expression. I closed the door behind him and followed in further into the flat.

“Who did you think I was?” Frost asked abruptly, not bothering to turn around as he inspected my small lounge area.

“What?” I jumped slightly at the unexpected question, too busy lost in my own thoughts as to why he was here.

“You answered the door as if you knew who was on the other side,” He explained, “and it clearly wasn’t me you expected.”

“Uh- yeah, I – uh – I thought you were my landlord about my rent.”

He glanced at me before continuing to move around my open plan flat, “You’re struggling to pay for this?” He asked, amazed.

“Maybe.” I snipped bitterly, it was alright for some.

He realised he had offended me and straightened up slightly from where he was looking at a relatively empty bookshelf. “Sorry.” He said quickly and I knew he meant it.

I shrugged it off, “Not really your fault. I was the one that threatened a women with a knife – can’t blame them.” I said simply. “Now I spend my days job hunting.” I explained gesturing at my laptop on the sofa.

“No luck then?” Frost asked, sounding like he truly cared - though I doubted it.

“Minimal.” I muttered.

We fell into silence again and I began to feel very self-conscious of his rather thorough inspection of my living room. “So… um…” I mumbled, trying to think of something to break the uncomfortable silence, “How’s your neck?” I asked in an attempt of casual conversation

“Stiff.” He said, “But better.”

I nodded in acknowledgement, “Good.” I muttered, a bit peeved he wasn’t really helping the conversation – after all he was the one that came to talk to me, “So, um, are you back working for him again then?” Referring to the other night when he had clearly been at the meeting.

“Yes.” He said bluntly, not looking at me he moved into the kitchen, “He appears to be back to normal.”

“No grudges over the whole-“ I gestured at my own neck, where Frost’s wound would have been. He glanced over his shoulder at my pause and noticed my miming.

He shook his head as he turned back, “No,” He said, “I know he would not have done it had he been in his right mind.”

“The Joker has a right mind?” I mumbled without thinking.

“You know what I mean.” Frost muttered back, and I sort of did. The Joker did a lot of odd things, but they were always on purpose – I’d never known him to accidentally do something – but I also understood that he wouldn’t normally jump at Frost and attack him like he had.

Frost continued to wander my flat and I was becoming more and more worried he was going to start going through every draw in the place. I was running out of ideas to get Frost to actually talk to me and explain why he was here.

I steeled myself - no more beating around the bush, “Ok, enough chit-chat. Why are you here Frost?” I asked abruptly and he glanced over his shoulder at me in surprise at my sudden bluntness.

“Just seeing how you were doing.” He said simply.

“Really?” I asked, raising a disbelieving eyebrow, “You decided to go through all the pain of figuring out where I now live, finding a way to get into the building without using the buzzer and now are basically inspecting my entire flat, just to check on how I was doing?” I paused, glancing away and then back to him, “Is this about the other night?” I asked the back of his head as he inspected a picture on my wall.

He finally turned to face me, “That made me want to check on you a bit sooner then I was going to.” He admitted.

“I don’t need you to check up on me!” I insisted loudly, “I’m not a child, I am a fully functioning adult that is quite capable of surviving just fine on my own!” I paused, trying to not get angry at him for his patronising behaviour – he probably meant well. “You know I travelled several hundred miles alone right? That I lived in that little town in the middle of nowhere, for basically a month on my own before you showed up? What makes you think I suddenly require babysitting?”

Frost suddenly round to face me, “Have you been back?” Frost asked, ignoring my question.

“Back? Where?” I furrowing my brow, “To the farm house? No, why would I?” I asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

“We left very abruptly.” He pointed out, “You didn’t pack anything – did you not leave a lot of possessions behind?”

I wondered where he was going with this – why was he so concerned if I didn’t have a few of my things? “I- uh – didn’t really have much.” I confessed, though continuing to eye him up warily, “I – I didn’t have much – I didn’t take much - most of it was new things I had bought.” I shrugged, “So I didn’t really care about leaving it behind.”

“So you have no beloved possessions?” He questioned doubtfully.

Why was he so insistent on this? “Uh, well, I guess there was – I mean there was one thing.” I told him reluctantly, I didn’t particular want to open up to a henchman – even he was basically a friend now.

He raised an eyebrow in question at me, signalling for me to carry on. I squirmed under the look, not wanting to reveal my weird little obsession with a photo. “It’s just a picture.” I blurted out, hoping that would be enough for him,

“A picture?” He repeated, I nodded, “Of what?”

I cringed away at the question, “It’s silly.” I told him, when he didn’t respond I looked back to him and he was still watching me expectantly. I sighed in defeat, “It’s just a picture of my club. You know - the one that was destroyed…” I trailed off lamely. By me.

If Frost found this at all odd he didn’t comment on it – for which I was grateful. Instead, however, I just stood there in silence. I couldn’t bear to look at him at the moment, worried – though he wasn’t saying anything – that his face would show what he really thought.

“So you don’t have this picture?”

“No.” I breathed at the floor, I looked back to meet his eyes again, “I left it behind and now the guy that owns the house has probably got rid of it.” I knew I had forgotten the picture but actually stopping to acknowledge the loss was painful - it was the last piece of my family I really. I could feel a lump of emotion forming in my throat as I thought of the fact it was now probably in a landfill somewhere, lost for good.

I cleared my throat, “Anyway.” I muttered, blinking back the water I could feel building up in my eyes, “Uh, why did you want to know?”

“I’ve got to head off actually, got a job in the area.” Frost said suddenly, turning away from the murky window he was looking out of. I was so taken aback by this sudden declaration that I didn’t notice he had once again ignored my question.

“Uh- ok – sure.” I stammered out, very confused and thinking Frost was behaving very oddly as I followed behind him to my front door. “Uh, Frost.” I called as I held the door open for him to step out. He paused in the doorway, turning back to look at me over his shoulder.

“Do you- could you- uh. What happened to Jake?” I asked, faltering as the two sides of me fought, my innocent naïve self that couldn’t condone what I had done and needed to know how Jake was doing, the side far happier with the suffering, not caring less what he was going through and feeling there was a lot more of suffering I could have caused to balance everything out.

“He’s getting medical attention.” Frost informed me. “[Y/N].” Frost began, turning around completely now so that he faced me, “Why did you do it?” He asked, almost gently.

I could feel the two sides of me pushing back and forth, one wanting to break down and scream she didn’t know, the other willing to do it again and not needing to explain. “Ask him.” I snapped out eventually and I noticed Frost almost retract from my harsh tone, surprised as my personality seemed to shift to a stronger, more assertive self.

Frost’s reaction didn’t last very long before his calm mask returned, “I will when he wakes up.” Frost replied calmly, almost mechanically.

“He’s unconscious?” I asked in surprise, reverting back to my innocent side, Frost watching me suspiciously and slightly amazed at my sudden mood changes.

Frost nodded, “Doctors were unsure if it was the loss of blood or the blow to the side of the head.”

I crinkled my forehead at this, “What blow to the side of his head?” I asked, puzzled and replaying the night in my head, “He never hit the side of his head, just the back.”

Frost seemed confused just as confused at this, “No, he had a swelling on the back of his head, but also a slight fracture to the left side of his skull.” He explained.

This baffled me. How was that possible? I had definitely not hit the side of his head. Had he fallen from where he had been slumped? No. That wasn’t a great enough fall to fracture the skull. Was it an old wound they had only just noticed? Or had I seriously done the damage but not remembered it? But I hadn’t drank or taken anything and - if it was true - then how was it that I could perfectly recall everything else about that night, there were no ‘blacked out’ parts of my memory.

Frost watched my face as I ran back through my memories; head bowed and eyes darting back and forth as I held the door open, trying to remember everything from that night.

There was no second head injury.

“I-I don’t remember.” I admitted, still deeply perplexed by this.

Jake Riggen lay unconscious in a sterile bed whilst bright lights illuminated his pale skin and multi-coloured bruises. X-rays hung on the wall, clearly showing the hairline fracture on the left side of his skull, and echoing beeps rang out in the otherwise silent hospital room which signalled his continuous heartbeat.

But Jake didn’t know any of this; all he knew were the last few moments before everything went black that now constantly replayed in his head.

She had turned back from the clown, towering over him as he clung to his arm where his body was tortuously pumped blood out of the deep gash. She had lifted a gun – where had she got the gun? – and he had closed his eyes against what was going to happen next and the agony in his arm.

The next thing that truly registered with him had been the burning pain in his foot - had she set him on fire?

He hadn’t known - he had just screamed.

He had barely heard anything over the sound of his own pain and his agony had dulled most of his comprehension at the time, but he had vaguely heard her say “He needs to suffer.”

He tried to wrench his eyes open, but when he had she had already gone. Only the criminal clown was left in front of Jake.

Jake should have been afraid of this, but at the time the agony had mitigated any other emotion and numbed all common sense.

There had been a hand on his cheek then, breath on his face. He had snapped his eyes open in surprise at the touch, hoping she had returned to him. Instead his eyes had met bright blue ones and a terrifying grin.

“I heard everything.” Came the voice, quiet, smooth, by his ear, yet it had promised no comfort. “My doll wants you to suffer, “The voice had pondered, “But I’ve never been very patient.” It had admitted before he remembered a cracking from within his own head he was gone.

#Deadly voice part 35 #joker x reader #joker x reader fan fic #joker x reader fan fiction #deadly voice #deadly voice fan fic #deadly voice fan fiction #jokersenigma #jokersenigma fan fiction #jokersenigma fan fic #joker fan fic #joker fan fiction #frost

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moonlight-escapade · 7 years

Text

Until it’s Gone (Loki Imagine) Pt. 3

I hope you guys are enjoying this series! xo

When Odin finished, the room stayed quiet. No one seemed to move. Life seemed to still, and the sky outside seemed to darken and darken… darken with every passing second. Your arms were wrapped around Loki’s waist, but you didn’t feel him breathing. You knew Odin’s words had hit him true. You knew he now understood the gravity of his circumstances. And you knew what he felt, because you felt it too. Because being with him was like being one single being. And you were standing there, numb and silent and crumbling from the pillars that were once each other, but now laid as a pile of rubble on the ground at the All Father’s feet as the sky continued still, growing darker and darker.

Loki’s head snapped up, and until then you forgot you were still living. It seemed as though all the life had been stripped of you as you listened to what Loki had done- what his actions, impulsive as Odin knew them to be, and rightful as Loki did, had done.

“I did what I knew was right. I acted as a true ruler would for our people.” You mentally slapped him. He continued, “Unlike your precious son or your own seemingly ‘wise’ beliefs, I don’t cower away from threats to our realm! I act- I protect- I do what I believe in my own heart -as you, father, taught us to live by- was to be done!” Odin looked at Loki sadly. “Congratulations Loki, you’ve proved yourself worthy of acting upon your own beliefs. Congratulations, for acting according to your own heart and disregarding those of others. Those of such as the one you call your own,” Odin said slowly then gestured down to you. You felt Loki’s pain as he took in his father’s truthful words. He looked down at you, but you couldn’t bear to meet his eyes, for your heart had seemed to drop at your feet, and the pain of the oncoming possibility that it would be the last time you looked in those of Loki’s was too horrible to bear.

“I’m not the one who banished her!” Loki scoffed then, his voice still full of regret as he tried to fight against his father’s truth. “Yes, you were Loki. Because as deeply as we have grown fond of (Y/N), she has become… a threat to our realm.” Your vision began to spot. “A threat!?” Loki yelled, gripping you against him as his eyes raged.

“She couldn’t be trusted. Her opinion- her decisions, happy as I am, will always be in your favor. Though with the recklessness- the total catastrophic destruction you set forth to unleash… Loki, you left me with no choice.”

Loki’s chest rose fearfully as his glowing eyes burned into his father. As for you… Odin’s words- they left you paralyzed in disbelief.

Behind you, the echo of the grand doors opening sounded, and soon after Thor made his way around us, standing next to his father. “Loki, what is the meaning of this then?” Thor asked him. You let your hold around him fall, and took steps towards his brothers side. The expression on his face was, you hoped, punishment enough for us all- especially for Odin. But it was not only Loki’s face which bore an expression of such surprise; Thor and Odin both found their own falling equally shocked and un-expecting. You hadn’t done it out of spite- or so you’d thought in your mind. You’d done it… truthfully out of fear, and sadness. You’d done it because the Loki you knew was gone somewhere- somewhere lost in the ragged breaths that fell from his burning chest. Whatever was going through that mind of his… he wasn’t your Loki. And whatever bold moves you needed to take to make him see that, you would make. No matter how hard they hurt- they needed to. Standing next to Thor now, you nervously eyed the dark angel before you- whose eyes grew wider every passing second in incredulity at the “switching of sides” he’d surely assumed you’d taken. Your heart beat furiously and it took everything within me to not run to him and wrap yourself around his tall, safe form again. You felt quite literally as though your arms burned for his touch…

No. You took a breath- remembering the events of the day as though an entire wave of flashbacks crashed upon you in a single moment, stealing all the air from your lungs… from my body. Tears pooled from your eyes as you stared at him angrily.

“Today was to be our wedding.” You spat at him, your voice breaking as you spoke.

His eyes flickered from fury to… to something of sorrow. His gaze lingering for a moment on your face before casting down slowly. Your blood boiled.

“Did you hear me?” You spoke again, your voice louder- this time steady and clear, your anger however, still present- and red.

His long fingers ran though his hair. Thor, beside you, shifted uncomfortably, and God knew what Odin must have thought of it all. But you really didn’t care what the man who’d banished you to a frozen planet to die had to think of it.

Loki’s eyes met yours somberly as you waited for his response. But the silver-tongued God’s mind stayed silent.

You let out a long, hard breath, unable to process any of this reality. “Does no one seem to recall this?” You looked around, talking mostly to the guards that were standing waiting for whatever outburst to happen, to happen. “Because I feel like I’m the only person who… even…”

You stopped, laughing, grabbing and lifting your dresses up as if to mock the ridiculous garb adorning your. You looked around at Thor, and at Loki- both of which were dressed in their usual robes. Thor shuffled around, trying to act like he didn’t notice the billowing wedding gown that floated around you- or how under dressed he was compared to you… you couldn’t tell. But you stared intensely at Loki, who just watched you silently, not saying a word.

You shook your head, the comedy of the whole thing… the ridiculous of any of this- you and Loki? You scoffed to yourself. “You know what? Even though he banished me to die- I agree with your father,” you walking up to him. Confronting his silence- his sorrowful gaze. “Congratulations on acting according to your own stupid, selfish beliefs and disregarding that heart which you called your own,” you choked, purposefully emphasizing the past tense of it. You turned to Odin then, fury deep in your throat as your eyes burned into his stoic expression. “I would never betray Asgard,” you spoke to him, blame, hurt and truthfulness all piercing through your tone like daggers into Odin’s mind. “That you would think so horribly of me after all we’ve been through…” you couldn’t even finish the thought for the pain it caused your already breaking heart. Odin’s eyes flickered away from your hurt, forlorn stare. Taking a breath, your eyes shot back to Loki’s. “I have and would always have stood by your side, Loki… but… this.. this is-,” you breathed deeply, feeling your anger well into hot tears.

No,stop it. I need to get this out, no crying.

“I’ve waited for you, my whole life. I have waited through your destructions, through your incessant need to prove yourself worthy to your father. I’ve waited as you’ve destroyed, as you’ve begged for forgiveness, as you’ve done everything in your power to convince you deserve it otherwise. I’ve waited for you to be with me. I’ve waited for you to make a decision. To stop proving you are the monster you’ve wanted so desperately to prove you aren’t. Loki- I have waited. I have stood by your side. I have given you my support… I have given you my heart,” you sobbed, “And now I ask- on this, our wedding day. Where do I even fit into your life? Here I am, and here you are, finally- ready, I thought, to be the man you’ve always wanted to be, and then you go and you…” tears pour down your cheeks now as you stand there in front of the one man you’ve ever, ever loved… your arms wrapped around your waist as you tried to keep yourself from falling apart. And then, your irrationality takes over.

You run forward and push him with your fists. “You go and you completely ruin it!” You push him again, hitting his chest hard as you could. The knowing it wouldn’t even hurt him making you all the more enraged. You wanted him to hurt like you did. How your body felt like it was ripping from it’s limbs. How your heart felt like it was tearing itself from your chest. The way the blistering cold felt on your bare skin as you suffered on that Gods forsaken planet for him. The way it felt as you watched him virtually reject you time and time again for glory and a badge of courage.

“How could you do this!? And today?! Do you- Do you even love me?!,” your voice rose in a whimper. “I hate you! You- You…,” in one swift movement he grabbed your fists, enveloping them in his large hands and pulling you into his chest. Tears poured down your face as he lifted you in his arms, carrying you out of the throne room, down the halls of the palace till you reached the familiar comforting glow of his chamber. Using his magic, he sealed the door shut, then placed you on the bed before settling next to you and wrapping his arms around your waist. In spite, you tried to push in away, but his hold was too strong, and after the events of the day your body was just too tired to endure any more exertion. “(Y/N),” he commanded rather harshly as you sit, refusing to look up at him. His fingers lifted underneath your chin, forcing you to meet with the heart melting blue of his eyes as he stared intensely into yours.

“I love you.”

You rolled your eyes. He stood up then, gently bringing you to face him as while he bent to his knees before you. Pressing warmly as he held your arms, he willed you to face towards him. “(Y/N)(Y/M/N)(Y/L/N),” he spoke as though a King would, sending shivers down your spine. “Upon my honor, my heart and my life- I love you. I love you more than any words or kisses or touches could even dare compensate.” You felt your heart break. Such sweet words, but spoken too late. “Look at me,” he spoke, his fingers resting under your chin as he waited for your eyes to meet his. “Never was there a love as strong, as powerful or as fierce as that which I have for you. In all the nine realms- nothing compares.” He spoke, sending flames afire around your heart. “And if you ever dare think otherwise, you’d be a fool.” You shook your head immediately, covering your ears with the palms of your hands. “I cannot do this!” You bursted, heavy sobs finally escaping your chest. His hands ran softly through your hair as you sat feeling completely hopeless beside him. “I can’t Loki. I-“

He knelt down on the ground before you then. His hands desperately grabbing yours in his own as hie eyes searched your face anxiously. “Please, Victoria I-“ You softly pulled your hands out of his and stand, shaking your head and begging him to continue no further. Slowly removing the ceremonial golden crown you wore on your head, you placed it on Loki’s bed. His eyes widened in fear as he shot up to stand on his feet. “What are you doing?”

You sniffed, trying to breathe as your body begged to release it’s sorrow. As you made your way towards the door, it came as no surprise when a bought of green mist bursted in front of you, blocking your exit from his once warm and safe, to now suffocating and dark chamber.

“Don’t go,” two of his smooth, wonderful voices echoed throughout the room. You shook your head, refusing to let your heart cloud your judgement this time.“I’m sorry Loki- but you’ve left me with no other choice. I must respect myself.” You breathed, fighting the tears that threatened to fall.

His hands suddenly wrapped around your waist, pulling you softly against his chest. You refused to turn into him, as fervently as your body desired to. This was the last thing you could think of. The final blow. If your sweet, dark prince didn’t change after this… you pained at the thought… you would never have a future together.

“I love you,” you whispered between a ragged breath- not knowing if he had heard. Then, silently, as you pushed away from him, or rather tore yourself away would have been the better description- you left. Your heart already aching as you made your way down the hall. As you stepped down the small staircase into the grand hall of the palace, the sound of glass and wood splintering amongst the shattering sounds of destruction became the last sounds you heard before leaving the place you’d called home for the last time.

#loki imagine #loki laufeyson #loki fanfiction #marvel #loki x reader

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njcklenjart · 7 years

Text

a moment of apricity, 2/?

Chapter Title: gauche

Summary: Newt returns to school. Although, he’s a few years too late and in the wrong continent.

A/N: I don’t know why this chapter took as long as it did. Also on FF and AO3

Previous • Next

The rest of his classes proceed as his first, his students asking him countless questions. They're more or less the same, easy ones he can answer and are memorized by his third day at Ilvermorny. He tells one or two lies to ward off suspicion when a child gets a smidge too interested, and, soon enough, he has a solid story with an acceptable amount of detail. And so, the first week passes without problem, as does the initial buzz about him. The students go from eyeing him in the hallways to nodding and uttering a quick, “Professor,” before hurrying off to bigger and better things.

With one problem gone, another arises. Despite the Headmistress insisting that he’s treated with utmost respect, the school is less accepting than the people living in it. Ilvermorny, though not as old is Hogwarts, is still a magical place, and takes to strangers as well as an Ukrainian Ironbelly in heat- and, by all means, Newt is just that, an invading stranger.

And, like any beast presented with an unwanted stranger in their home, the school makes its opinion known. Loudly.

He gets turned around, ending up at dead ends where he’s sure there should be a classroom, walking into the kitchen despite knowing that it’s on the opposite side of the school, and, worst of all, repeatedly having the toilette switched up. It’s partly because the layout is strange to him, faring as well as a first-year, but he blames most of his pains to the actual school rather than his incompetencies.

The curtains try to strangle him if he gets too close, the tapestries always ready for a fight, and the windows love to open at the right moment to have a gust of wind blow his papers in disarray. His first trip to the library is an dangerous one, nearly resulting in him flattened by a towering shelf and tossed over the second story balcony by an angry armchair, and, no matter how hard he tries, he can’t find the text he came in to find. He takes a particularly ridiculing fall when, halfway up a set of stairs, the steps meld into a slide and send him tumbling back to the first floor.

There are no students or faculty nearby to witness it, but the paintings have a good laugh at his expense.

Then there are the ghosts.

Where there are wizarding schools, there are sure to be ghosts- a common occurrence- integrated into school life no matter which continent one finds themselves on. Newt remembers his first year at Hogwarts and how the ghosts of the school surged into the Great Hall during the first dinner (Nearly Headless Nick was always popping through students’ plates for a quick laugh).

He wonders why he hadn't seen any during his first night at Ilvermorny, only to get his answer on his way to Headmistress’ office a few days later when, without precedence, a battle erupts around him. Misty figures armed with wands and swords appear quite suddenly and, before he realizes what’s happening, charge at one another. There’s no fear of being hurt, but walking through a ghost did leave one with chills and a weird, detached feeling, and Newt’s not willing to find out what it feels like to have an incorporeal sword pass through him.

Thankfully, the Headmistress’s office appears just when he needs it, giving him a the opportunity to escape, and the woman within merely gives him a bemused expression when he tells her of his encounter.

“Nothing out of the ordinary, Mr. Scamander,” she tells him. “Just the dead reliving their glory days.”

Newt learns to take it all in stride like one of his expeditions, Ilvermorny a type of beast that must be studied. Once he does that, life settles into a sort of familiar rhythm.

The school pesters him and he deals with it the best he can. Eventually, he gets the hang of stepping out the way of overeager doors swinging open and always has a spare box of chalk when his current one goes suspiciously missing. He learns to keep his ink jar away from his papers lest the table develops an in-the-moment limp and not laugh quite so loudly when he purposefully takes the banister down a spiraling staircase.

Despite the odd looks he gets, he takes his case wherever he goes within the castle. Can’t have the off chance of someone finding it lying about, thinking it a good joke to make the newest teacher search high and low for his things. He doesn’t want to think ill of anyone here, but he had been young once and, on occasion, had gone to great lengths to obtain what he needed for his and Leta’s experiments (whether or not his professors knew of his use of their things).

Most days he keeps to himself, falling back to his case and his creatures. There he can't be pestered by confrontational ghosts that break out in brawls and raunchy noblewoman calling out from fancy frames. In his case, he knows every nook and cranny, navigating it with sure steps and a confidence he could only aspire to attain in the outside world.

However, he is a teacher and, even as a temporary substitute, is held up to a standard with responsibilities that force him to meet social requirements. The ever dreadful, faculty meetings.

That is where he meets a Porpentina Goldstein.

He's late to the teacher's meeting, tie askew and dried leaves stuck between the buttons of his vest. There are odd looks directed his way, but no one says anything about it, only carrying on with whatever they were discussing before he entered.

It takes merely a moment to find a seat near the back of the group and a moment longer to find himself completely bored when he takes the time to listen to what's being said. The Headmistress is there for a little while, vocalizing her trademark speech of unity and legacies for the school, before saying something about janitorial staff and transfers and making her way out; she gives him a secret smile as she leaves, pinching his elbow when she catches him growing distant. After that, it's all talk of new regulations and distributions of supplies.

Nothing interests him, so he observes the room instead. With how many classrooms there are, he supposed it only right to have one solely for the professors. A common room of sorts.

Like everywhere else in the school, the architecture is same, with no specific affiliation toward any particular house, the colors and style completely neutral. There’s a fireplace like the one in his cottage, only bigger and far more elegant, and plush couches and armchairs settled around it. One or two unfamiliar teachers lounge there, while the rest of the staff are seated on the long tables across from the fireplace as they go from topic to topic until, finally, the meeting is adjourned.

He politely shakes his head when a large pot floats over to him from the counter by the doorway, spilling what he thinks is coffee over the arm of a sullen loveseat.

He’d never bothered to think about the social lives of his professors as very few of them took to him more than necessary. Now, as one himself, he's curious as to what goes on behind the scenes of encompassing lectures and rigid structure, and is severely disappointed when the meeting is no more exciting than his time spent behind his desk at the Ministry. He hears what he expects, outrageous tales of students (most of them ending with detentions), past and current, as well as discussions of home life. The only thing remotely interesting is the recounting of a duel between two students, one that was settled out in the middle of the hallway not far from them.

He listens to his colleagues for a small amount of time before eagerly moving away, too bored to care about the less subtle looks of offense sent his way. One round about the room, then he makes for his cottage again and back into his case- his fwooper was coming down with a cold and it would be best if he got to making a remedy as soon as possible. He spots a lone woman sitting on a double armchair on his way out and something catches his eye. He wanders over, getting a good look at what she's holding when he's close enough. It's a newspaper.

The New York Ghost.

Interesting. Newt hadn't bothered with keeping up with current events (nor had he the luxury while deep in rainforests and deserts), only interested when a beast was mentioned. The constant attacks and muggle scares were often less than cheery, and he didn't bother joining the ranks of the millions of wizards fretting and worrying in their homes.

Someone clears their throat. “Can I help you?”

He looks up into eyes the color of freshly upturned dirt. A single eyebrow is raised, curious and expectant, and Newt feels heat creep up the back of his neck.

His cheek twitches. “No. I was just reading.”

Hair brushes against her jaw when she tilts her head, looking almost… amused? As if to indulge him, she shows him the front page, the picture showcasing a burning building, small figures running away as flames roll into smoke.

“There’s been multiple attacks these past few weeks,” she explains. “MACUSA is still trying to identify the creature behind them.”

“A creature?” he repeats.

“Yes. MACUSA is very sure about that. No human could cause this amount of damage.”

Despite the unarguable tone, Newt isn't so sure. It was best not underestimate the damage a person, magical or not, could inflict. Headlessly disregarding a problem as being the result of a rampaging beast was an act his fellows wizards did easily and repeatedly, so he did his best to give the benefit of the doubt. If one only searched a little deeper, looking past the expected explanation, there was always a lead that came back to ignorant wizards throwing the care of magical creatures aside for their own benefit.

Newt realizes that woman is waiting for a response and he’s been staring at her paper for longer than necessary. “Pardon my manners, I'm-”

“Newt Scamander. I know.”

Ah, yes, he'd forgotten about his introduction to the whole school. “And you are?”

“Tina Goldstein.” She offers him her hand, completely professional. They shake.

“Ms. Goldstein- is this fairly recent?” He motions to the article.

“It's the morning edition.”

He nods, leaning in to see what the article said about this so-called beast. Sadly, there's nothing critically identifying. He expects as much, only a select few bothering to correctly educate themselves on magical creatures while the rest of the wizarding world merely applied the ‘kill on sight’ rule.

He wonders what it could be. Leprechauns are out of the question- they were prankster, yes, but never inflicted any lasting damage. Only a handful of doxies and pixies would be needed to cause chaos, but what the article suggested would mean hundreds of the little creatures and the two species could barely hold a group of twenty without mutiny.

Perhaps it was two separate species. Symbiotic companionship between animals, magical or not, happened in the wild, so the possibility of it being more than one creature isn't that farfetched. Newt couldn't name a pair of creatures that were this erratic on the top of his head, much less this close to civilization without having being trafficked by some wizard.

His eyes scrounge the rest of the page in hopes of finding anything than can shorten his list. One small section catches his eye.

“‘Lingering Effects of Salemers Scandal-’” he reads aloud, squinting when he gets to where the paper begins to crinkle.

Without warning, the newspaper is ripped away. Newt blinks as Ms. Goldstein jumps from her seat and quickly folds the newspaper, jamming it under her armpit. Her lips are pulled in a fierce frown.

“It was wonderful talking to you, Mr. Scamander, but I have somewhere to be- so if you'll excuse me.” She marches past him, expertly evading an insistent coffee pot and a jerky cup of sugar.

Newt watches her go, confused. He’s fairly certain he did nothing to insult the woman, much less say anything to make her leave in such a hurry. Socializing with his kind was never something he was ecstatic about- unless it was directly related to a creature- but he doubts he’s that inadequate when he’s barely a year out of practice.

It must’ve have been due to their conversation, he guesses, but can’t discern why.

No matter, he thinks, shaking his head. He has more important things to think about- self-appointed things like the deducing what kind of magical creature would be wreaking havoc in small towns in America.

Theseus would help, only an Owl away. If anything, his brother will merely think he's on the tail of some evasive creature (which he could be) and won’t ask him for his sudden interest.

Already a plan is forming in his mind, his interest piqued by these unusual attacks and his stubbornness pushing him to figure it out himself. This isn’t what he expected when coming to Ilvermorny, but he can’t complain, not when it gives him the opportunity to aid a misplaced creature. He doesn’t believe in fate, but chance seems to have set him in America alongside these strange happenings and he’ll make use of this opportunity as much as he can.

With that in mind, he sets off, a certain spring in his step.

While the faculty don't pry, the students are at that age where they find no problem asking him questions that would normally be off limits to teachers. Clearly, as it was at Hogwarts, he's the oddball, the Englishman thrown in the middle of an American melting pot, and that opens him to countless questionnaires.

One beats all others: “What's in your case anyway? You always have it with you.”

It's the fifth time the question has been asked during two class periods and he knows it won't be the last. The object is too prominent to shrug off as insignificant and, as no matter how many times he opens it to show them the ordinary clutter stuffed in its safety setting, they are too clever to take his falsities at face value.

“Nothing special,” is the designated response, along with the common misdirection.

This time it's a presentation of sorts.

He drags his stool to the center of the classroom, motioning for the students to get out of their seats. “Gather around.”

They follow his order, shuffling until he is surrounded by a sea of faces, all turned toward him, expecting. It is unnerving for all of a second before he feels a small nudge against his chest.

“Pickett,” he calls, tapping his top pocket. There's a squeak and he sees the top of a leafy head, but nothing more. “Come now, Pickett, don't be shy.”

Another squeak, but the bowtruckle does peak out from his vest.

Instantly, the class is enamored and a few of the girls squeal when they catch sight of him. The rest of the students bunch closer for a better look as the bowtruckle comes out more. With a little more prodding, Pickett climbs out into the open, crawling up to stand on his shoulder. The creature rests one slender hand against Newt’s neck, making a familiar bridge between them.

“Pickett, here, is a bowtruckle,” he informs them, knowing that his friend doesn't fit this year’s criteria, but deciding the lesson must be taught regardless. “They are very handy and can pick almost any lock you put in from of them.”

There is more gushing and it makes something warm and soft float in his chest.

“Can I…?” one of the girls ask. She reaches out, only to pull back a half second later (Newt’s glad- his previous lecture about personal boundaries for different creatures must've gotten through to someone).

“Certainly.”

Pickett lets out an alarmed squeal and hooks his spindly fingers around Newt’s ear, fixating himself there as if Newt was intending to give him away for good.

“Pickett- Pick- he has some attachment issues,” he explains in an effort to console the rejected girl when he attempts to pick up the creature, a pinch of pain pricking his lobe in response. He gives an exasperated sigh and gives up, ignoring the smug shimmy his tiny friend does. “Which is exactly why I’m accused of favoritism.”

Pickett blows him a raspberry, but lets go of his ear now that he's not being abandoned (honestly, Newt would never).

“Now that is beneath you,” he says as the students laugh. Still, he smiles.

The bowtruckle makes its way down the length of his arm, gazing at the students surrounding him almost anxiously. Neurotic is a word that can describe Pickett at times, insecure and shy at others; the amount of time he's spent in the outside world and away from his branch exceeds any of the other bowtruckles and still Pickett isn't all too open to strangers. Newt lifts his hand, palm up, and Pickett scurries to it.

“I saved him and his branch from a logging site. Bowtruckles are tree guardians. Anyone have a guess as to what that entails?”

“They guard trees?”

Newt nods at the half-hearted answer. “They take care of one tree and one tree only. Once they've chosen one, they won't leave it. It's one of the reasons why deforestation poses such a problem to them specifically.”

“Can't we just move the tree somewhere else?” a Wampus girl asks.

“Yes, that would be easier, wouldn't it? More efficient as well, if taken straightforward. But,” he says quickly when he sees more heads nodding in agreement, “what would you say if I told you that, more often than not, bowtruckles claim trees such as hornbeam, rosewood and even the ever evasive elder tree?”

He can see the realization hit.

His wand is out and spun between nimble fingers, distracting the little bowtruckle for a span of two seconds before Newt’s knuckles grow more interesting. “For those unaware, these are examples of wand wood. Most of the time, it’s rather easy to get the wood and bark. Simply offer some woodlice- fairy eggs if you have some- to placate the bowtruckles and they’ll allow you to take what you need.”

He tucks his chin. “Except… sometimes that’s not enough. The wand making industry is rather large and in constant demand with every witch and wizard born- and it is far easier to get rid of these creatures and take the tree entirely- which means that Pickett here is considered less important.”

He wiggles his fingers and Pickett lets out a high pitched squeak as he swings, enjoying himself.

“As you can see, Pickett doesn't know that I am, biologically, the same as all of you. He doesn't care- he's already claimed me as, what I perceive to be, his new tree and, if offered the choice, would choose to stay with me even as I lay dying.” He pauses, head cocked as he stares at his small friend. “Very loyal creatures, bowtruckles.”

Pickett slips, but Newt is there to catch him with his other hand, gently setting him back on his shoulder. Not a moment later, the green creature is snuggled under his collar, safe and warm.

He looks up at his students, watching the ribbons of thought catch their attention. He offers a small smile.

“Just a sickle for your thoughts.”

Newt sees the accursed thing on his second week at Ilvermorny, both in the hands of students and laying ominously on their desks. Something he hasn't trusted since he'd been forced to utilize during his Hogwarts days and wishes he didn’t see in his classroom.

Bestarium Magicum.

He has his own copy, but he’s marked it up so thoroughly with his own notes, that’s it nearly impossible to decipher the original text. Sometimes, if he's feeling especially spiteful, he'll accidentally drop it in the path of his giant dung beetles.

“Rubbish.” He hands the book back to the student, a strawberry blond boy of wiry build, whom he has borrowed it from and makes his way to his desk. He has the urge to wipe his hands clean. “We will not be using the book. I apologize that you had to buy the new edition, but I had only been asked to teach two weeks prior the semester starting.”

The boy, whose name escaped him at the moment- Edward, maybe? Or could it have been Brandon?- speaks up with furrowed brows. “Is something wrong with it?”

“That's depends. Most wizards would say no, but I find this book severely lacking. For example, while its description of the limax is adequate, its account of its behavior is less so.”

“Limax?”

“Air-breathing land slugs- terrestrial pulmonate gastropod mollusk in the Limacidae family,” he says, pretending he can actually see his words enter one ear and shoot out the other. With a wave of his wand a piece of chalk floats to the board and begins a rudimentary sketch of the creature. “Imagine a hammer head with a snake-like body and four arms. It has no natural way of defending itself, so it often bears handmade weapons. The only creature of its intelligence level to do so.”

“What kind of weapons?”

“Oh, anything it can get its hands on. It'll take a quill right out of your hands if it feels like it has to.” The corner of his lips twitch. “If I remember correctly, that's how the first attempt at observation went- threatened Professor Briggs of Cambridge with his own butter knife.”

One or two students laugh.

“It says it’s paranoid,” Emil Johnson says, a constant presence in the seat next to the window, looking through his book. He flips a page. “That’s it.”

“Yes, and rightly so. It has many predators and is constantly on the move. Because it is suspicious of all creatures, the females will often fight off the advancing males. Once they do mate, they will form a partnership until their young is old enough to fend for itself. After that, the family will go their separate ways indefinitely.”

“That's so sad,” says a skinny boy in the front.

Newt shakes his head. “Creatures mate solely for the continuation of their species. Humans are the oddballs, searching out partners for the chance of an emotional connection.”

“So they don't love each other?”

“The mind of a beast is very different than a human, so the way they perceive and think varies from how we do. What we consider love may not fit what a manticore considers necessary for a mateship,” he says, noticing the interest of the rest of the class, even the students who don't usually follow along, shifting towards him. “It depends on the creature in question. While most species of dragons are promiscuous and don't form pair bonds, hippogriffs mate for life- as do owls and unicorns. When observing each, you can see the difference in their level of affection, as well as how close it mirrors that of a human.”

“But you said they don't feel love like we do.”

He didn’t plan for the conversation to turn philosophical, but he'll admit that he's enjoying it. Questions meant they were interested. “I never said that. I merely stated that it's a highly debatable topic depending on the constructs one has for love.”

“So what do you think?”

Newt stalls for a moment. He shouldn't impose his views on them, but leave them to make their own opinions. That's the professional way- the appropriate way. That’s the way most of his professors handled the question when he was first learning the subject.

Bugger his professors. He isn't like them and would teach as he pleases.

“I believe we all have similar instincts at a basic level. I believe that they feel pain as we do, can be happy or angry, have likes of their own. They are as complex as you and I- so what's to say they don't love.”

They find his answer adequate.

The discussion continues long after class is over.

#fbawtft #fantastic beasts and where to find them #fantastic beasts #hp #newtina #njckle #amoa

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undermycitadel · 7 years

Text

Evangelina//Request//Part 1

...So take me to the airport And put me on a plane I've got no expectations To pass through here again…

“What’s her problem?” I asked myself halfway through another episode of I Love Lucy, unbelieving that the middle-aged woman’s actions were genuinely scripted. My forehead puckered with thought after Lucy managed to yet again screw up a perfectly sane situation. I supposed that my disdain for the woman was a prime part of my watching experience- as it was for others, I assumed. She was likely to be the most annoying person on the planet but it was that annoying personality that drew me to the color TV screen that sit across from my bed, atop the dresser that sit across my bedroom. Blaming this particular disgust for Lucille Ball on the pressure cooker that engulfed me at that period in time felt like the right thing to do since it was enough to make the dogs go mad. I laid on my twin sized mattress, supporting my head with my two hands, and elbows rested on the cream colored sheets that were getting too warm even with the windows open. The heat was aggravating, maddening, making the sweat spilling from my brow force my tall stray hairs stick to my face as if they were a second skin. I considered asking my Father to install a ceiling fan in my room but I doubted it would make any difference. The summer of sixty would be blasting three months away from the cool classrooms of tiled floors and empty halls, and it would be a rowdy one at that.

I never looked forward to summer vacations. It was never fun for me, just plain boring. I didn't have any friends to spend afternoons with, no relatives in the area to kill time with, nor were there many things to do first for a sixteen-year-old girl in suburban Soho in the first place. The last day of school was also a drag because it was the transition into the three months of Summer in which I had absolutely nothing to occupy myself. My mother, since the beginning of June, talked of how she would ask her boss for time off in order to spend time with me over the break. I doubted it over and over, but soon enough she’d convinced me otherwise.

Both of my parents are lawyers, working for what is considerably the “most prestigious” law firm in the world, Latham & Watkins. They were responsible for advising and representing the company’s VIP status client's, presenting the claims and cases to the judges and before government representatives, evaluating the data, and other important lawyerly duties that would make a person bow down to their work ethic. Oh, and answering phone calls about partnership inquiries. Excessively, would they parade around the house talking amongst each other about how difficult their job was and or complaining to me about how complicated getting through the work day was each and every time we all would sit down for dinner and I would attempt to talk about whatever good event happened in my day. I made the dinner most times because there was no time for either of them to make the meal when they would arrive home from work. My theory for this being; they would purposefully conversate about the trials and tribulations of their jobs every possible second to make me less of a bother. Make me pity them because god forbid our precious daughter- our only daughter gets in the way of our demanding job. If that was the case, then it worked because it became once in a blue moon when I would ask them for much because I would fear them being too busy and getting mad. Some time later, it was my own new unspoken vow to be as scarce as possible in my parent’s routine. The occasional dynamic in behavior out of either of them would always surprise me, with them being so stern it was hard to even dream of a foreseeable future where they would make time to chill out for once.

We'd never taken an actual vacation. Unless you would consider spending a weekend in Pittsburgh with my mother sitting in a hotel room while my Father confirmed his admissions and attended a meeting to discuss the direction of his company a vacation. Not fun at all for my standards, nor was it in comparison to what the girls at school talked about. My parents weren't too fond the idea “vacation” because that meant taking time off of work and their jobs were much too valued for that. Mom and Dad were too busy to relax, I knew that for a fact, and so when my mother asked if I wanted to go to Uncle Howard's for the summer my first reaction was where have I heard that name before, as opposed to what have they planned for me?

She cracked my bedroom door just enough to peek her head through, then her body, then more until she was fully emerged standing in and front of the television screen with her hands folded behind her back. She stood tall and figured at a five foot nine inches wearing a beautiful blood red velvet dress with stockings, topped off with her bare feet. Her glossy, toffee-colored hair cascaded down her back and spilled over her chest. Her pink face was pure porcelain, makeup was clean cut, with a red lip and mascara. The aroma of her Chanel number five was She was beautiful today, and that forced the thought of how she wasn’t sweating in the slightest and not ruining her makeup. I didn’t think I would understand it even if there were any logic behind it.

My mother, Marceline De Kloet-Abel, was a beautiful Dutch woman. Born in nineteen twenty-five, she, at thirty-six, could be a supermodel if she desired, and when she wasn’t working she could rival even Jean Shrimpton. During the work week she wore mostly suits and her hair tamed in a beehive. My Mother didn’t fancy makeup when in a business environment because she claimed it would “distract from her tasks convince her peers that she lacked the intelligence to succeed in the workplace”. Marceline was far from stupid, I can defend her on that one. She graduated her high school at the top of her class also in college with honors and a 4.0 GPA average. Knowing that, it would be an outgoing statement to label her “a dumb broad”, as she was the brightest woman in our family, the breadwinner out of her six older sisters and two older brothers. She was as pretty as she was smart as she was headstrong as headstrong as she was a Dutch woman. Maybe it was her roots but nothing could get in her way if she was determined to do something and she was willing to argue her point if you were against what she was all for. Classy too. Always managing to have a put-together outfit and a nice fragrance within arms reach of her purse. She made sure that the house was never out of order and that I did my chores at least twice a day and was particularly stern about that. My room was never a mess thanks to her and I always knew where my knick-knacks were. Maybe she had OCD. I can’t say that the thought hadn’t crossed my mind, but I can say that it was enough to make my love and hatred for her about equal. She’s my Mother, so I guess I have to tolerate her stubborn personality but her physical appearance was something that somewhat made up for it.

“Evangelina? Sorry to bother you at this time, but do you have a minute?”

“Yes, okay”, I hurriedly sat up from my rather uncomfortable position on the sticky bed and was quick to fold my legs like a lady as I was taught to do so many years ago.

“Your Uncle Howard is inviting you to spend the Summer with him and his family. He just called, and I told him that I would call him back with your answer”.

“Howard?”, I asked torn on whether or not that name existed anywhere in my mind. My brows drew together.

“You don't remember Uncle Howard?”.

Obviously not.

“I’m sorry”.

I shook my head- and Mom tried to jog my memory with describing him as the lanky man with a checkerboard suit at my second birthday celebration but it was no use. The man was nonexistent. He had to be.

Finally she said, “Your cousin Brigitte. That's his daughter”. That was a name that I did remember and a face that I adored whenever I’d get the opportunity to see it.

“Sure. Uncle Howard, yeah”, I tried to sound familiar with the name even though I still had no recollection. It sounded convincing enough.

“Would you want to go to his town for the summer?” she brought her hands to her abdomen and proceeded to fold then over and over.

“Sure”, I agreed, only because I was already sold that wherever he lived would be more interesting that sitting in a crockpot for three months with the taunting dreams of your eighteenth birthday to keep you company. Part of me was genuinely excited for the change in setting however for me, mostly because I wanted to leave Soho for a while.

Mother explained to me how she and Dad would be working for the majority of the next three months with the law firm’s branch expansion and that Uncle Howard and his wife Debra offered to take care of me while they took care of business. That hasn't surprised me yet. However, she used him living all the way in Dartford as a way to excite me. And it did. I didn't mind the fact that my parents worked twenty-four-seven much anymore. I totally understood it by now and felt that I had no place in telling them what's good for them and to spend more time with me. After all, I came into their lives, not the other way around. At the very least, they wanted me out of the way so that I wouldn’t feel neglected while they took care of business. It didn't bother me at all. Not one bit. Occupying my time with chores and scribbling my experiences of the days were enough for me, replacing the conversation with my parents and the friends that I had yet to meet. Cousins of mine such as Brigitte were who I felt the most faultless around because they were family and near my age. We're more relatable than the adults in my life.

My expectations for this trip were low. I doubted that I would come out of my shell and venture on into new territory, whether with my parents or not things wouldn’t change. Actually, them not being there would make it even better. If I could sneak away and get time to explore the uncharted territory I would have such a free, enjoyable summer. I knew that Brigitte would cover for me if I chose to slip away and wouldn’t tell a soul about what would happen.

“Okay then. I suppose you should begin to gather your things now. He’ll be over here sooner than you might think. I’ll call him back- tell him that you said yes”, and with the swing of her hip, Mother started for the door.

“I beg your pardon?”, I stopped her as she turned the doorknob. She looked at me with her eyebrows raised, understanding written in her eyes.

“ ...But do you know when he will be here, exactly?”

A line appeared between her brows as she looked to the ceiling for her recollection. She clicked her tongue a few times, then said oddly in her accent, “June twenty-fifth, nineteen sixty, nine- fifteen a.m.”.

“That’s tomorrow”.

"Yes! Hij komt in de ochtend. Haast!." She continued to her destination, leaving me with hours left to prepare.

Get ready, he’ll be here in the morning. Okay.

The second after the door closed, I wasn’t quick to attend to what was needed. I had regrets, I didn’t want to go anymore, and I only wanted to finish my show and go to bed. After realizing that I was potentially missing an opportunity to do something other than live in NYC, I picked myself up and scratched the particular spot atop my honey glazed brown hair that had been bugging me. I only didn’t tend to it because the sweat acted as a glue, sticking me to myself. And I was lazy and wanted to watch the television. My mirror showed a picture of a girl who didn’t know what to feel about what was to come. She danced to the mirror and combed her fingers through the tangled strands of hair, dreaming about the second where she would finally meet the tall, dark, and handsome man of her dreams. The girl is looking back at me with her amber eyes, glowing in the hot light shining in from the blinds. Her skin is a light shade of fawn, freckles on her chest were subtle but dark enough to spark a conversation. Her plush lips as red as a budding rose wetted after being grazed by her tongue for the sake of preventing dryness before applying a generous coat of lip balm. She takes her hand from her hair to replace it on her hip. She lets out a defeated sigh. The girl in the mirror, now toying with her large lips wishes that she could look more like her Mother. She didn’t like her brown hair as much as her Mom’s candied colored locks. She wanted her mother’s eyes and not her Dad’s ugly apple eyes.

Another sigh left the reflected girl’s mouth. She turned away from the mirror and there I was, hands pressed to the drawer to support myself as I scanned my bedroom with the intentions of finding what I would bring with me on the trip. I would have spent a day’s time preparing, freshening up my wardrobe for the sake of a new place but there was no time. I strained my neck back to have a last glance at the girl in the mirror. “C’mon. We’ve gotta get started”, I told her. She turned back, ready to leave my world for the venue of an alienated land.

I must have been up til the wee hours of the morning preparing and packing. I always manage to forget something when I pack for school and I wanted to be sure in this case that I would have everything I needed with me. Add that up with the amount of time that it took for me to shower, brush my teeth, get dressed and brush my hair, by the time I finished, my Mother was calling from the bottom of the staircase to let me know that my mystery Uncle was outside, all set to deport me to the airport. I felt butterflies in the pit of my stomach and struggled to hold back my signature youthful grin that would make an appearance on occasion. I looked forward to this vacation after all. I was looking forward to seeing new sights, trying new things, to meet new people. This could be my chance to do all of the things that I normally wouldn’t because of my parents and the rules they had are against anything cool in the slightest. I didn’t bother much and so I saw no point in them placing the rules at all. I’m a well behaved sixteen-year-old girl and I don’t think that they acknowledge that whatsoever. So It’s fine.

The tossing of the four wheels on the suitcase scattering around the floor filled the empty air of the house and butterflies filtered my stomach as I came closer and closer to the minivan that had been double-parked on the street. Mother held open the door for me and I soon found myself face to face with the vehicle that would take me to my fate. My face was gradually turning hot, I could feel it. I could recall a time where I would get embarrassed or scared for my life, and every since one of those times along with my face growing hot it paired nicely with the wrenching feeling in my gut of what was to come in the foreseeable future. A man suddenly emerged from the driver’s side of the minivan. His was indeed a lanky man in which Mother had described him to be when attempting to get me to remember the guy. It still didn’t work. But anyway, the alabaster man was lanky and wore a gray straight suit, shoes of mocha and socks of what I imagined would be polka-dotted. His butterscotch hair was slicked back with stringy stray hairs laying on his forehead. He approached me and Mother who stood as poised as usual and nodded at the both of us. His lips were thin but managed to execute a subtle smile to greet us properly. My eyes glazed over his bifocals that were snug on the bridge of his nose and covered his copper eyes and crow’s feet. He looked good for an older man.

Mother’s arms extended to invite him in for a squeeze. “Howie, hello, how are you?” she greeted with a laugh.

That is the happiest that I have ever seen her. That’s her brother.

“Oh you know how the stock market is, Marceline”, he pulled away whilst holding onto her fingertips. “Instead of a degree in business, I should have invested a degree in buy-low-logy”, he said, and the both of them erupted in laughter.

His accent is less Dutch than it is British, and stronger than I’d imagined.

I could only smile at the risk of looking out of place amongst the two adults who were having a sort of sophisticated break for humor. The internal awkwardness was able to be dealt with, so that took the edge off. Seeing my mother smile was quite the sight for me any day. It was rare and so I didn’t want to interrupt.

“Hello Evangelina, it’s good to see you after all of this time”, he turned to face me. Before I knew it, his arms were out and I was being brought into his chest for a hug that I had no choice but to accept. I didn’t want to be rude, just smile and hug back as I had been taught to do my dear mother. He smelt strongly of cologne. I had to hold my breath to contain myself from coughing up a lung.

“Hi Uncle Howard, how are you?” I asked once he let me go to be polite.

“I’m well as long as you are! How are you?”, he laughed. “Do you remember who I am, dear? I mean, I wouldn’t be surprised if you didn’t. I mean, it was how many years ago the last time I flew to New York for your birthday? How old are you?”

“Sixteen. Sixteen years old as of Monday”, Mother interrupted just as I opened my mouth to speak. She planted her feet in back of me and rested her hands on my shoulders. My exterior looked okay with it, however, on the inside I wanted to stomp my feet and shatter the concrete to smithereens.

Uncle Howard didn’t notice my annoyance, he only went by my Mother’s word to dive further into the subject. “Sixteen, is that right? My, my, have you grown since then. You see I remember back when you were a wee little baby on your Mother’s lap, crying for her to hold you”.

“Yeah, that was me then. I’m sorry that I don’t remember much of you...but I’m sure you’re a gentleman”. My eyes were looking for direction because I didn’t want to make eye contact with him for some shy reason. A stranger would get this same treatment

“Did you do anything for your birthday? Have a party? Cake and such?” His rheumy eyes traced back to the woman before me. Mom paused, didn’t say a word for a few seconds. I didn’t want her to lie but I certainly didn't want her to tell the truth and look bad in front of her brother. I knew how she could get when she felt ashamed. Marceline was a woman who took great pride in the way that she raised her kids. Not only that but she took great pride in her achievements as well. In her eyes, she believed that the way you raise your young reflects how you are as a person. In her case, as you were as a wife and a Mother. We always looked put together and in line with how she wanted things to be for the sake of acceptance, me and my Father. I shouldn’t care about how she looks at the spectrum but I do because it involves me and I somehow become affected by what affects her.

“We threw her a party...yeah. And she had a nice time, didn’t you Evangelina?” she awkwardly chuckled.

Lies.

“Yeah”, I smiled whilst looking up at my Mother. She was fibbing but I would rather that over telling the truth and never letting me hear the end of it for weeks on end.

“...Well, Brigitte’s about your age. She’ll be rather pleased that you’ll be joining us for the summer. Why don’t you take your bags to the van- the trunk is open. I’ll be over in a few minutes”, said Uncle Howard after reading my Mother like a book.

I dragged my multiple suitcases to the minivan and proceeded to wrestle with the back door handle. It was not left unlocked and so I spent the majority of my Uncle’s conversation grappling and gripping. In the corner of my eye I could see Mother with her arms crossed and head bobbing low, Uncle Howard stroking her arm almost like in condolence. “It’s getting bad”, I barely heard her utter. As I put my final suitcase inside of the trunk, my Uncle was ready to leave and my heart was pounding in my throat. My excitement was peaking although I didn’t dare admit to it.

I heard the fair voice of my Mother as she waved us goodbye with her extended arm and hollered “Have a nice trip, my love”. No kiss goodbye. Suddenly I felt a strong hand on my shoulder. I didn’t bother looking up because I knew that it was my Uncle. He directed me to the mustard yellow side door that he then slide open to allow me easy access to slide in and make myself comfortable. The interior was a drastic difference from what I imagined it would look like just by looking at the van’s exterior. The leather seats were a brilliant blue and the carpet on the floor was an array of colors ranging from magenta to gold. A phone station sat in between the two front seats and close to the green steering wheel. A far cry from the sophisticated man who owned the vehicle. With his Sunday’s best on, I would have assumed his van would match his style rather than his alleged personality. The wonders that this man’s brought me already and I haven’t known him for more than fifteen minutes.

“Ready to go love?” he asks me once he’s strapped into his seat and looking back at me from the driver’s side.

“Mhm”, I nod, giving him the reassurance that he needs to go forth with starting the ignition and speeding off airport bound.

My eyes wandered to the window and shaded over the trees and red cars that we would pass. What would come once we landed in the United Kingdom? I didn’t know much about London or even Dartford for that matter and I was going to spend the next few month living there? Mother told me once that the people over there use euros and shillings instead of American dollars and it made it harder to do business with British people with problems that needed to be solved in court. Father wanted me to learn up so that I wouldn’t be so ignorant to the world and only think of myself in situations. How stupid did he think I was? I know some. The idea sounded quite absurd as I took the time to analyze it. Westbury High School didn’t cover much of British history in my World History class but what they did cover was useless for visits. And I couldn’t hear much of that we learned anyway because of the other teenagers whom my Father would call ignorant because they figured because we didn’t live in the United Kingdom it wasn't important to pay attention in class and not throw paper spitballs at each other like ignorant teenagers. I wouldn’t be learning much about every architectural detail of the region, only enjoying the smaller less complex things that Dartford had to offer. If I did then the experience would be the equivalent of a school trip to the museum.

Thinking positively was as difficult as choking down my Aunt’s beef stroganoff and then telling her that you enjoyed it afterward when she’d fold her hands and watch you eat what you could. I wanted to turn back the clocks and go back to the time when Mother asked me if I wanted to go so that I could say no instead of yes but before I knew it Uncle Howard was in the airport parking lot, heading for my new home for the summer. “It’s a rental”, he said and explained without words why his car matched not his style, but his budget.

I was on fire. My face felt white hot. Uncle Howard popped the trunk of the Van to take out our luggage. I walked his way to help him somewhat and take my things to stroll into the airport wait lounge. Surrounding us were overweight Italian men with half buttoned Hawaiian shirts and tons of chest hair, the dock’s salty ocean air as the fishermen reeled in the catch of the day, beams of warm biscuits and gravy from the diner down the drive. Early bird special. Quite the comfort as I didn’t eat breakfast before leaving and my stomach had favored the scent. I turned my head away from the sweaty men approaching the airport to glance back to my Uncle. He wiped the sweat from his brow, gently picked up one of the many suitcases, and sat it on the gravel where I grasped it in my hand and to my side. My nails dug into the vinyl handle of my suitcase while keeping quiet to keep my calm at the thought of stepping inside of an airplane.

Not to say that I was scared. Just that whenever you are involved in a new experience you get a little nervous. Nervous enough, even, to gather the gall to say “I want to go back home, you won’t take me alive”. But I wouldn’t dare stoop to that level of desperation and waste a fortnight at home, virtually alone whilst my parents ventured a quest for the gold status of certified workaholics.

“Evangelina, dear, excuse me”, Uncle huffed, out of breath from removing the heaviest of bags from the trunk of the car. My eyes shot back to his. “Are you ready to go?”

No.

“Yeah. Yeah, let’s go. I’ll help you with some of these bags. You look a bit worn”.

My Uncle smiled a proud smirk. He rubbed my shoulder and said, “You know, It’s good to see you handling all of this with a positive outlook”. My brows drooped. I didn’t understand where he was getting at. “I’m sorry?” I asked as politely as I could. “I know that your parents are having problems with their marriage, and this summer they’re gonna do all they can to patch things up so it won’t hurt you. I feel bad for you that you had to witness the deterioration of their relationship over the last few years but I want you to know that it’s not your fault. But you’re a strong girl. I know it. And we’re going to have a nice vacation away from all of the negativity”. I stood still and stared at him aimlessly. That’s some food for thought to take with me on the plane. He must have known something I didn’t, just didn’t know that I didn’t but I didn’t want him to be in trouble for spilling any beans. Sure I was devastated. It felt like a pipe bomb. I played along because I value others more than I value myself and I hate myself because of it.

“Thank you. You are a kind sir for your concerns Uncle Howard...I’m sure the events over the course of this summer will take my mind off of things, surely”, I faked a sure smile. That last part was a bonafide lie. How could I forget about something that bazaar? That Ludacris? I thought about it on the walk through the airport doors. I thought about it on the wait for the plane to arrive. I thought about it during the wait for the flight to take off while sitting on heated seats and padded chairs in first-class. “Would you care for some boiled chicken and a side of assorted vegetables? A glass of milk?” the flight attendant asks me once it hits one in the afternoon and I’m still thinking about it. Oh, no thank you to the peanuts. I’ve got a piece of shock that I’m still working on. I say “I say yes please, but can I have an unsweetened hot tea instead” because I haven’t eaten in twenty-four hours and I wouldn’t care for milk.

After I ate until the taste of dry chicken brought the desire for a gun to shoot the taste out of my mouth. I was no longer hungry, rather, my hunger after a few bites of poorly steamed carrots and wet cabbage turned to hurt and depressed feelings in my chest. That feeling gradually grew stronger and then some until I had no choice but to think about “it”. I thought about it and thought about it some more. Uncle Howard didn’t notice my depression, and I didn’t want him to because “this” is not what my first vacation would revolve around. It’s forbidden and I won’t allow it to, so it was a good thing that I was being ignored. I thought about it until I decided to stop thinking about it for the sake of staying away from the point of no return and ruining my first vacation and pissing myself off any more by my mood, or anyone else at that matter. Sitting closest to the window provided an opportunity to scan the horizon and clear my mind or at the very least try to forget for the rest of the flight. Being over a vast, soothing body of water was okay I suppose. At least if I died I would be swimming with the fish and that’s all that I really wanted to do this summer anyways. So much for cooling off. I could feel my face steam from my pores and now all I want to do is die and I don’t quite know why.

No more moping internally. I’ll save that for later. Now, I’ll drown in drowsy and deal with someone else’s problems afterward.

______________________________________________________________

The world was shaking, shaking me from my sleep and even after I awoke, groggy due to the uncomfortable first class luxury padded seat. I suppose it was meant to feel like a cloud of careless living but for some reason, that of which I did not understand, the chair was the opposite. Oh yeah, my parents are divorcing. And I wasn’t supposed to think about it. I forgot.

As I wiped the sleep from my eyes as the high pitched beep arose from the speakers littered on the ceilings of the plane. The pilot. The man whom I wish would make one false move and seal my fate. Sounding like a robot, he announced “Attention passengers; this is your captain speaking. We’re just about ready to land this grand ol’ plane down in the United Kingdom. The British Kingdom. London, to be exact, where you can let your hair down and enjoy the sights and bring back beautiful pictures in your polaroids. Estimated time of landing: five minutes. Buckle up and get ready for the time of your life”. A small eruption of applause followed, as did another flight attendant who started the speak about seatbelt safety. “Can anyone tell me what a seatbelt is?”

At baggage claim I sport a solemn look in my eyes. I know that I shouldn’t be so involved in this, whatever it is but I don’t know what has gotten over me. I’m not menstruating or anything. Uncle Howard sat next to me on the long, circular, leather waiting chair at baggage claim tapping away at the tiles on the floor with his studded shoe. It won’t be long before our luggage would be here and we would be in Dartford finally, I would practically smell the divorce papers being signed. No, I could practically smell the sweet Dartford grass! Our luggage came around the conveyer belt, my Uncle took care of unloading our things while I was only given the job of taking what was mine. After nothing was left behind he told me that his car was parked outside of the airport and that it would ride us home to his castle, he was the king. If I wanted to think about “it” it was no use. I was going back to my old ways of anxiousness and curiosity of what would be waiting for me in the land of mystery and that was, as far as I knew, was foreign. People from there must be aliens like Canadians. The soothing trees and the hush from the cascading winds blowing winds about made we want to think optimistically about my visit to this uncharted territory, disregard my parents’ marriage for the first time in forever and live. Actually live, as someone other than myself because myself would never let me live as another.

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