#I’d say it would make sense that Lottie could be there somehow | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ravenadottir · 2 years

Note

Hello again my dear! I hope I don’t annoy you too much by asking too many things! I just have a lot of scenarios and ideas that I’d love to have your take on! 🥺💖

I’m not sure if you’ve done this already, but what element (Fire, Earth, Water, Air) do you think the S2 cast would have? I guess this could double as an Avatar ask too HSHDJSJSJDLWJJDJDJSJDJ Because MC is the main character I think she’d be the Avatar and could control all four elements but again I’m ✨biased✨ and will always stan everyone’s MC!

Thank you again for your time!!! 🥺💖

li's x basic elements

i'm sorry for how long it took to answer this ask, babes! i had serious issues with my drafts and inbox 🥺 and i always love your asks!

and you know what, i completely agree about mc! she would dominate everything and be bald with a big arrow on her head... what can i say, i guess i'm biased as well!

bobby. air. he's everywhere. it's like he touches everyone in the villa without much effort, he makes friendships happen really fast and seems to divert storms when they happen.

carl. air. it's almost as if he needs something to move him. aesthetically speaking it makes perfect sense, but when you think about carl in his element he's very tranquil and stable, but can cause a disaster if too intense. air is perfect.

chelsea. water! in my head she's a pisces of some sort (whether is the... sun... sign? i don't know, those that are not about your birth date sign). to me she has almost a mermaid aura around her and she gets other people almost contaminated with her energy.

elisa. fire. there's so much passion in how she walks through life, she almost leaves a trail behind her. everything about her is intense and hot, sometimes literally.

gary. earth. everything about gary screams "raw". his reactions, his priorities, the way he's been taking himself through life is now much more easy going. it seems he found a way to stay grounded, no pun intented.

hannah. air. there's so much more lightness than anything else about hannah. light hearted, no pun intented, is how i define her, so i think it's a perfect fit.

henrik. earth. i know it sounds obvious because of his profession but... air fits with him too. i'm giving him earth because the way he connects with people is more organic and natural than flowey and light.

hope. fire. she has this fervor about her that i admire so much. everything with her is decisive and definitive, and even though she can be sweet at times i think she thrives when showing that other side of her, the one that commands a room without saying a single word.

ibrahim. air, for sure! he's floating around, seeing what's up, from time to time he lands to leave a mark and then leaves. even though he was timid at the beginning there was still this light charm about him that when it turns into confidence it really reads "careless" more than anything.

kassam. i feel like there should be something different for him, like lead. he really doesn't move unless it's on his own rhythm and often times finds himself separated from the rest. if we're talking the four elements i think lead fits because it's not even part of that reign.

lottie. fire. i mean, right? and i'm gonna need whoever is reponsible for saying scorpio is a water sign to stop using heavy pills and change this shit, because it's outrageous.

lucas. FIRE. no explanations needed.

marisol. air. do i know why? no! do i think it's something else? also no. will i change my answer? no. it's air.

noah. earth. everything about him is warm and feels like home. somehow it's impossible to feel ill or uncomfortable when you see "earth", do you know what i mean? that's how i feel when i see noah, warm and comfortable.

priya. fire. often under her ass but still, very fiery about everything, might as well dominate the one element she can.

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jovialyouthmusic · 4 years

Text

Girls’ Night Out

A multiple AU piece of fun featuring my female LIs

The girl’s night out takes an unexpected turn, and the author has to step in

Word Count 1709

A/N Just one more chapter after this virtual romp. Partial nudity, some swearing and still NOT SUITABLE FOR UNDER 18S

6 Help...

‘Well crap’ said Lucy as Lizzy went limp and crumpled. John rushed forward to catch her ‘What now? I didn’t think she’d react that badly’

‘The plan was for us to change everything to our timeline’ John said. The three women gaped at him as the music stopped. His expression changed as he realised he’d given the game away.

‘Hold on a minute – this was planned?’ asked Sophia, sobering up swiftly. Her head whipped around to the stage, where ‘Snake’, ‘Glad’, ‘Brake’ and ‘Sebastien’ stood sheepishly in their strippers garb. ‘Bas, is that really you and not another version?’ She demanded. He cleared his throat.

‘Now Sophia…’ he started, but she stormed up to him and poked him in the chest. Defensively he placed his hat over his genitals.

‘So you couldn’t leave us to enjoy ourselves – you had to stay in control’ she hissed. Behind her, Lucy suddenly laughed

‘But Soph – look at them!’ she crowed ‘They stripped for us, for fuck’s sake. They’re way out of their comfort zone. I think that shows real dedication’ Sophia stood back and looked Bastien up and down. He did indeed look extremely uncomfortable.

‘Humph’ she retorted ‘Well sadly the game’s up now. What have you got to say for yourself?’ Bastien spoke, regaining some of his composure.

‘Sophia, my goddess’ he started ‘Tell me you didn’t enjoy yourself. You said – no, screamed - and I quote, Come here lover boy, I’m your gal.’ He folded his arms and gazed at her. It was Sophia’s turn to look sheepish.

‘Well okay, I have to admit you did a good job’ she admitted ‘I never thought you’d be comfortable doing something like that’

‘You know I put my best into whatever I do’ he said, his tone soothing. ‘Les helped – we watched some videos…’ at this, Lucy snorted

‘Wow, I’d like to have been a fly on the wall for that scenario’ she guffawed. Now it was Charlotte’s turn to speak. She glared at her Drake

‘How could you?’ she growled ‘You put me up on stage for everyone to see’ He hung his head in shame, hat covering his groin.

‘I’m sorry Charlie’ he said ‘Was it really that bad?’ He looked at her hopefully, and Lucy nudged her

‘Come on Lottie, it was pretty damn funny’ she prompted. Charlotte sighed heavily ‘and look at him’ Lucy went on ‘He’s almost as hot as my Drake. Tell me you didn’t enjoy it just a tiny little bit?’ Charlotte shrugged in defeat.

‘Very well, it was rather - stimulating’ she replied, then rounded on her man ‘But don’t you ever pull something like that in public again’ Drake nodded, and John was next to speak

‘Lizzy’s coming round – I’m going to take her somewhere more familiar if you don’t mind. It was a pleasure meeting you all’ and in the blink of an eye they were gone.

------

Slowly Elizabeth’s senses came back to her. She lay on her back on some padded surface, head propped up on a firm pillow. It was quieter, and the flashing lights had stopped. The soothing strains of a string quartet filled the air along with a soft murmur of voices.

‘Lizzy – it’s okay, you’re safe, my darling’ she heard her fiancé say, and slowly she opened her eyes. ‘Take it slowly, don’t try to speak just yet’ Above her she saw the vaulted ceiling of the assembly rooms, and to the side was a finely painted screen. She lay on a chaise longue, hidden from the sight of the others she could hear on the other side. She raised her head a little to look down and confirm what she knew - she wore her ballgown and satin slippers, not the skin tight transparent leggings and short dress that her companions had chosen for her.

Beside John stood Morag, gazing at her with concern. She passed her hand over her forehead and handed her a glass of water which she sipped gratefully, sitting up carefully.

‘You gave us quite a turn, young lady, passing out while you talked with your beau’ she scolded ‘I know you’re excited about the wedding but you really should eat properly, or you’ll faint at the altar.’

‘I’m sorry Morag’ she said ‘I promise I’ll remember to have breakfast tomorrow’ John stood by her side and placed his hand on her wrist. She smiled up at him.

‘I had the strangest dream’ Lizzy started, and John smiled, leaning forward and speaking softly so Morag could not hear.

‘Are you sure it was a dream?’ he winked, opening his closed hand to reveal a bow tie. Her eyes widened and she opened her mouth to protest, but he silenced her. ‘Only you and I know’ he whispered. Morag tutted

‘Now then, you know I cannot leave you two alone. Stop your whispering now’

‘Morag, we will be married tomorrow. Can you not allow us five minutes together? I promise we will do nothing improper’ Lizzy entreated her chaperone ‘I only want to talk privately with John’ Morag crossed her arms and harrumphed

‘Very well Miss Elizabeth, but don’t make me regret my decision. You always were headstrong’ She went and stood a few feet away, still in sight but out of earshot as long as they spoke quietly.

‘What happened?’ Lizzy whispered ‘You appeared in your uniform – were you going to take me up on stage for all to see?’

‘I would not have held you up for scrutiny my dearest, never fear’ he assured her ‘The plan was for all to change and for us to be here together. I was going to dance with you as is appropriate for our time’

‘Were the others to follow?’ she asked

‘You wanted time alone with me’ he said ‘But somehow when you fainted and I brought you here, Morag appeared to look after you’

‘I didn’t get to say goodbye or thank them for looking after me’ Lizzy said ‘Will we see them again?’

‘I cannot say for sure’ he replied ‘I hope so’

‘Can we still dance?’ she asked ‘What about your injury?’ He smiled

‘It seems in this place in between worlds, all is possible’ he said ‘The only obstacle is Morag. How she came to be here I know not’ Lizzy sighed

‘If we knew how to contact our author, perhaps she could help’

------

I sat at my screen, scratching my head. My characters had really kept me guessing. First a request for a mock up of Edinburgh, complete with bars and clubs, then for videos of male strippers performing, now one for research on dances popular in the Regency era. I hadn’t really put two and two together, as due to the health crisis in my own world, although I had time on my hands, I hadn’t felt that writing was much of a priority. I sighed and closed down my document to find ‘my’ Bastien waiting.

‘Hey Bas, what on earth is going on?’ I asked warily.

‘You’d better come over and find out’ He smiled. Wearily I put my hand to the screen and felt the tug that took me through to the virtual world. We stood in one of the waiting rooms, sterile and white, and he was there, supporting me with a hand to my waist. He leaned forward to kiss me on the cheek. I rubbed it, feeling the blood rise to my face.

‘Thanks Bas – I’m sorry I haven’t been on much. There’s – a lot going on lately and I haven’t felt up to it’ He held my hand and squeezed it

‘I’m sorry to hear it, but it’s good to see you. Your characters have been – well, things got slightly out of hand’ I placed my palm over my face.

‘Yes’ I sighed ‘There were some odd requests. Tell me the worst’

‘Well, somehow the pairing from your Regency period became self aware…’

‘That’s odd, the readership is pretty low, and it’s not been going long’ Bastien shrugged

‘Well there’s a lot of spare energy sloshing around so things have been a bit crazy’ I made a gesture for him to continue. ‘So your regency heroine was first – and Lucy, Charlotte and Sophia took her under their wings. Did you not see her when you helped them make that mock up of Edinburgh?’

‘Oh dear, either I wasn’t paying attention, or they deliberately hid her’ I conceded. ‘I just thought they wanted a bit of fun’

‘Well that ‘bit of fun’ was a hen night for Elizabeth’

‘Oh my goodness, I wrote her wedding night but it’s going to have to be redrafted, and there’s a few chapters to go before we get there’

‘Well I think she got a bit restless, then their partners got wind of it. My counterpart was not happy for Sophia to be out on the town without backup’ I snorted with laughter

‘I specifically wrote her as being able to cope for herself’ I scoffed.

‘You also wrote her Bastien as being very good at his job’ he pointed out ‘His background of chasing Leo round the nightclubs and dives in Europe made him a bit antsy’

‘Hmmm, I didn’t specifically write – oh hold on, there was the storyline with him meeting Damien in New York when he was following Leo’ Bastien nodded

‘Exactly. Well, anyway they ended up in a club, and the men gatecrashed as strippers’

‘They what now?’ I gasped ‘Oh heck, now the requests for the videos of Magic Mike make sense. Go on, what happened then?’

‘Elizabeth was – kind of overwhelmed’

‘Ohhh dear, poor lamb’

‘It’s okay, she fainted when her John arrived’

‘John is self aware too?’

‘Uh huh. Anyway, the plan was to spirit her away to the Assembly rooms in regency time so they could have a little time alone before the wedding’

‘And did that happen?’

‘After a fashion. Apparently their chaperone turned up and they’re stuck with her’

‘And that’s why you called me?’

‘That, and it was a good opportunity to reconnect’ I sighed

‘Okay, we’d better go and sort things out. I’m going to start by rounding them up at the club - ready?’ I took his hand.

‘Ready’ he grinned.

#girls night out #Elizabeth and John #drake x lucy x brad #queen charlotte #fanfiction

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flashflashitsash · 5 years

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Phantom of the Opera 2

1…..2 / 3

Hello!! Just want to say thank you to everyone who’s left a comment or liked/re-blogged! It means a lot!

Side note- when you get towards the duet at the bottom, red is Marinette, blue is Luka, but purple is them singing the same line. If you’ve heard the songs you will understand :D

—

“Think of me...think of me fondly, when we've said goodbye.

Remember me, once in a while - please promise me

you'll try.”

Marinette hesitates a bit on the last word looking back at Madame Bustier, she gestured for her to continue.

She grips the scarf handed to her by one of the stage hands, her heart beating rapidly. Watching M. Andre and Gabriel whisper to each other, while everyone in the rehearsal who was backing away, returned to watch and listen to her sweet voice. All of them giving her their full attention.

“ When you find...that, once again, you long to take your heart back and be free -

if you ever find a moment,

spare a thought for me..”

Fast forward to the moment before she is to perform, They rush her back, as there’s only so much time before the theater fills up with audience. They let down her hair, fix the curls, place beautiful sparkling snowflake esk hair pins all throughout her hair. Her dress is overwhelmingly grand. Tight beaded corset bodice. All white with jems and jewels decorating it in every direction. The skirt, the same shade, so large that she could rest her forearms on the skirt.

Alya comes up to her friend before her next performance. “ Oh Marinette! Did you hear who will also be in attendance?” She paused to grab her friends hands in hers, “Adrien Agreste! His family is a great supporter of the arts!” She squealed as Marinette nodded with excitement “He’s so handsome Marinette!”

Marinette smiled rubbing her thumbs over her friends fingers, “Yes I did, long ago, before mama and papa passed, him and I...well you could say we were childhood sweethearts. He used to call me ‘Little Mari’.” She blushed looking away to her reflection in the mirror. “I doubt he remembers me though.” Before her friend could reply, they did finishing touches on her face makeup, rushing her to the stage.

Flash to the ongoing performance, Marinette, center stage continuing the song….

“We never said our love was evergreen,

or as unchanging as the sea -

but if you can still remember…..stop and think of me ..”

She smiles looking out toward the audience, moving closer to the right upper stage, making her way across.

“Think of all the things we've shared and seen —

don't think about the way things, might have been . . .

Think of me…..think of me waking, silent and resigned.

Imagine me… trying too hard..to put you from my mind.

Recall those days...look back on all those times,

think of the things we'll never do -

there will never be a day when, I won't think

of you!!”

The audience cheers as there’s a quick pause for drama and effect in the song, the full orchestra going to full volume gracefully. But up in the balcony box, a young blonde man, gazing down at the raven haired girl in awe. Some would say he fell in love right at that moment..

“Can it be? Can it be Mari?”

Adrien beamed, standing from his seat clapping his hands towards her

“Bravo!”

He raises his opera-glasses to get a better look at her, and in a sing song voice, he says,

“Long ago, it seemed so long ago...how young and innocent we were...”

Lowering his opera-glasses, stunned at her, at how much more beautiful she’s become over the years, since he last saw her when they were children. She no longer wears her hair ribbons and pigtails, but she’s still ever so lovely. He continues,

“She may not remember me, but...I remember her…”

Marinette pauses as she lands in center stage again, “Flowers fade, the fruits of summer fade… they have their seasons, so do we.... But please promise me, that sometimes.. you will...think...of...me!!” Marinette throws her arms up, hitting the oh so difficult high note with ease, the scarf going up in the air as the full orchestra makes the big finish. She bows. Then glances over to the wings seeing all her ballet friends clapping and smiling, the stage managers screaming in approval, clapping rapidly in their box, along with the audience getting up from their seats, she got a standing ovation.

The curtains close, and Sabrina runs out the auditorium doors, down the grand staircase. She finally reaches the horse drawn buggy, where Chloe is sitting anxiously awaiting the news of how her “understudy” did.

“Well!?!?” She questions as Sabrina opened the door. Sabrina flashes her a big smile, meanwhile Chloe groans leaning back in her seat, pulling her fan out, she begins fanning herself.

Ayla is attempting to weave her way in and around the crowd backstage, looking in every direction for Marinette, she rushes down a back hallway, finding her friend lighting a candle in front of the photo of her father, a stain glass window illuminating the room with various colors.

Marinette not noticing her, but hearing the soft sound of a familiar voice,

“Brava...brava...bravissima…” the voice trails off as Alya calls out Marinette's name.

“Mari? Where in the world have you been hiding? Really, you were perfect out here!” She smiled crouching down next to the girl in the big white gown, placing a hand on her shoulder. “I only wish I knew your secret, who is your great tutor?” She questions softly.

Marinette took a soft deep breath, “Alya, when your mother brought me to live here, I’d always come down here to light a candle for my father, and one time a voice from above spoke to me…” she paused glancing down at the photo of her father in her lap. “And in my dreams, he was always there...you see, when my father laid dying, days after my mother had already passed, he told me I’d be protected by an angel. An angel of music..” she trailed off feeling breathless

“Do you really think it’s the spirit of your father teaching you?”

“Who else could it be Alya? …..Who?” She looked over at the lit candle flickering, “Father once spoke of an angel...I used to dream he’d appear.

Now as I sing, I can sense him...and I know he’s here!

Here in this room, he calls me softly..somewhere inside, hiding.

Somehow I know, he’s always with me. He the unseen, genius.”

“Marinette you must have been dreaming...stories like this can’t come true.

Marinette you’re talking in riddles….it’s not like you!” She grabs her friend's hand, leading her away from the darkening room, back upstairs to her dressing room.

M- “Angel of music, guide and guardian...grant to me your glory!”

A- “Who is this angel of music?”

Both together, they sing “ Angel of music, hide no longer...secret and strange, angel. “

Alya stops and stills, as she feels how cold Marinette's hands are.

“Your hands are cold”

“He’s with me now ...all around..”

“Your face, Marinette, it’s white.”

“It frightens me”

“Don’t be frightened..” she grabs Marinette's arm gentle leading her back up the staircase.

—

“No!” Madame Bustier shouts at the men following Marinette, begging to be let into her dressing room. She closes the door, turning her attention to Marinette, the young girl she considered a second daughter, the girl she brought to the opera house, orphaned at such a young age, sighing, placing a hand on her cheek. “You did very well, my dear.” She reaches down grabbing a rose with black ribbon tied all around it. “He’s pleased with you..” she says placing in the confused girls hands.

Marinette looks down at it, her face showing a mixture of confusion and contentment. She runs her fingers down the black ribbon, taking in the softness of it.

On the other side of the door, Monsieur Gabriel and Andre hold overly large bouquets of flowers, filled with all kinds of colored roses, lilies and other foliage.

“Ahh, Vicomte!” M. Gabriel shouts as Adrien passes him, “ I believe we’ve made quite a discovering with miss Marinette Dupain-Cheng!” He boasts

“Perhaps we could present her to you, Mister Agreste?” M. Andre asks hopefully.

Adrien smiles, shaking his head slightly. “Gentlemen, if you wouldn’t mind, this is a visit I prefer to make unaccompanied” he says with a love struck grin on his face, a light blush on his cheeks.

He looks at the bouquet, then takes it from Andres hands, “Thank you!” He turns walking to the door of the room she’s in. Right as Madame Bustier walks out.

M. Gabriel raises and eyebrow, looking at an equally stunned and confused Andre, “It would appear, they’ve met before..” he says smirking a bit.

Adrien crosses the threshold, his chest tight in anxiousness, but it calms when sees her at her dresser, glancing down away from the mirror in front of her gorgeous face.

“ Little Mari… let her mind wonder. “ he closes the door smiling wide, as Marinette looked over to the full body mirror seeing him, she smiled so brightly, her bright blue eyes gazing to his green ones. “Little Mari thought, ‘Am I fonder of dolls, or of goblins or shoes?” He chuckled

“Adrien…” she turned around locking their eyes together face to face rather than in the reflection of the mirror.

“Or of riddles, or of frocks?” He continued making his way toward her, setting the flowers down on the table closest to him.

“Those picnics in the attic..” she said softly

“Or chocolates..” he finished reaching for her hands

“ Father playing the violin.” She says placing her hands in his, blushing when he kneels down in front of her.

“As we read to each other, dark stories of the North

Marinette smiles quoting, “ ‘No - what I love best,’ Lottie said,’is when I’m asleep in my bed..” she trails off slightly as he leans in closer, their eyes fixed on one another, neither breaking the gaze.

Simultaneously, they sing-song, “The Angel of Music sings songs in my head..”

Adrien lets out a sigh, then reaches up, wrapping his arms around her shoulders, pulling her close to him, “You sang like an angel tonight” he told her, giving her a small squeeze.

She pulled back to look at him again, “Father said, “when I’m in heaven child, I will send the angel of music to you”” she stopped conflicted, “my father is dead Adrien, but I have been visited by the Angel of Music..”

“Oh, no doubt of it...and now we go to supper.” He grabs her hand, getting up heading for the door.

“No, Adrien-“ she tightens her grip stopping him. “The Angel of Music is very strict..” she trails off as he lets go getting closer to the door

“Well, I won’t keep you up late!” He smirks opening the door

“Adrien, no.”

Insistent, Adrien says, “ You must change! I’ll order my carriage.” He grins at her “Two minutes….Little Mari.” He walks out the door with quickness

“Adrien no! Wait!” She gets up to go after him but the door closes. Little does Marinette know, there’s a hand on the other side of the door, locking her in, taking the key with them.

—

The opera house has closed for the night, candles blown out, doors being shut and locked. The managers leaving for the night.

Marinette pulls on her sort of sheer white robe, detailed with lace, she did it herself if we're being honest. She begins to tie it when she’s frightened by all the candles in her room going out. The room becoming darker, only lit by the moonlight near the body mirror. She walks closer to the door to leave, when a strong male voice speaks from every corner of the room.

“Insolent boy! This slave of fashion, basking in your glory!” He pauses as she turns around “Ignorant fool! This brave young suitor..sharing in my triumph”

Marinette takes a step forward, “Angel, I hear you...Speak, I listen. Stay by my side, guide me” she pulls at her fingers, nervous. “Angel, my soul was weak, forgive me! Enter at last, master” she glances around, trying to find a face in the darkness.

The voice starts to sing again, “Flattering child, you shall know me. See why in shadows I hide….look at your face in the mirror!”

She looks to the body mirror, face blank, skin pale and cold, as she sees a figure appear in it.

“I am there, inside!” He slowly becomes more prominent in the mirror. Smiling down at her as she sings to him, her eyes not leaving him.

“Angel of music! Guide and guardian! Grant to me all your glory!” She sings as she inches closer to the mirror. “Angel of music, hide no longer...come to me strange, angel!” She stares to the man in the mirror, almost as if she’s in a trance.

“I am your Angel of Music! Come, to your Angel of Music!”

Adrien comes up to the locked door, attempting to open it, he could hear a voice, one that does not belong to his sweet Marinette. “Who is that voice?” He gets closer to the door, “Who is that in there!” He demands.

“I am your Angel of Music…”

Knocking on the door harder, he calls out for her. “Marinette!! Marinette!”

“Come to me Angel of music…” the man in the mask, reaches his gloved hand out to Marinette, she carefully places her into his. In the distance you could hear the organ playing. He begins to lead her down a hall, lit by candle operas. Now with more light, she can clearly see his features, while singing in her head

“In sleep , he sang to me..in dreams he came..” she takes in the white mask, covering half of his face diagonally. His eyes, sky blue, his hair was what took her by surprise. Dark at the root, but as it cascaded down it turned to blue. Reaching the edge of his suit.

“That voice which calls to me.. and speaks my name.

And do I dream again? For now I find!” Her eyes widening, she begins to sing out loud, “The Phantom of the Opera is there! Inside my mind..”

“Sing once again with me! Our strange duet…” he sings as he turns to her with the torch in his hand, illuminating her face “ My power over you, grows stronger yet!” She turns to see if anyone is behind them, she turns back shocked as her calls her out on it.

“And though you turn from me… to glance behind, The Phantom of the Opera is there! Inside your mind!“ he guides her to the boat awaiting them. Sitting her down in the front, he stands in the back, with a long stick he begins pushing them forwards, she starts to sing out loud again.

“Those who have seen your face, draw back in fear.

I am the mask you wear—“

He jumps in to her singing, saying, “ It’s me they hear!”

Together at the same time they sing, but not exactly the same words.

“My spirit and your voice

Your spirit and my voice “

“In one combined!

The Phantom of the Opera is there!”

“Inside my mind,

Inside your mind.”

He smirks pushing them farther along the waters.

Marinette sings again, “ He’s there...the Phantom of the Opera!” She begins to harmonize, as they get closer to their destination. The darkness slowly becoming more and more illuminated.

“Sing, my angel of music” he asks, as the gates go up, she goes up an octave.

“Sing….my angel” he takes note of her doe eyed expression, glancing around the scenery in front of her.

“Sing for me!” She goes up another octave. “Sing my angel!”

In a harsher but stern tone, he brings the boat to shore saying again, “Sing for me!!” He clenches his fist egging her on.

She goes as high as she can with the note, shocking herself, she holds her throat. Watching him revoke his cloak. Seeing him look back her her with amusement on his face.

—

WHEW! That last duet was harder to write then I thought. Also I’ve had someone ask if I’d want to draw anything for this...I could try but I’m not the best lol (I haven’t had an art clas in years). If you’d want to see something like that let me know in the comments

Let me know what you guys think! Until the next chapter! :D

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If you’d like to be tagged, let me know!

#miraculous #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #phantom of the opera au #phantom of the opera #alya cesaire #luka couffaine #lukanette #adrienette #chloe burgeois #sabrina #ml #miraculous ladybug #adrinette #fic #ml fanfic

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rayfollowsfromhere · 5 years

Text

Sapphic September Day 13

I'm just going to say it - my favorite Davies is Galvin. Day 13 was heartache.

-.-.-

Eleanora arrived at Lottie's at 8 a.m. on the dot. Stella was waiting for her at the counter, a scowl on her face and a ziploc in held between her fingers. She thrust it towards Eleanora without a word.

"Thanks," Eleanora plastered on her best smile and forced every ounce of sincerity in her body into her eyes. Stella did not stop scowling.

The ziploc contained a trimming of curly black hair, bits of it were pink and bits of it were blue. All of it was Zora's. Eleanora slipped the bag into the tote she was carrying.

This would be the first time Eleanora did this sort of a summoning. Usually families wanted to see, or speak really, to their dearly departed. Stella didn't even want Eleanora talking to him, and she'd forbidden even the mention of Galvin to Zora.

Eleanora had wisely decided not to step anywhere near the Davies family drama. Well, anymore than she already was given she was investigating Oriana's death.

"Tell him I miss him," Stella's voice carried out the door as Eleanora left. Eleanora paused to look back, but Stella was already heading further into the hairdresser's.

The graveyard was empty when Eleanora got there, blessedly so, and the Davies family plots were towards the back. Eleanora had been there before - not necessarily snooping, but…. Yeah, snooping. Given it was morning, the chances of Domi or Amity popping up again were slim.

"Okay!" Eleanora stopped in front of Galvin's grave with a long breath. She placed her hands on her hips and stared at the pale grey stone. "I don't suppose you could make this easy for me, could ya?"

Galvin did not materialize or otherwise respond as far as Eleanora could tell, so she plopped down on the ground.

Zora's hair, while the most important ingredient in this little ritual, was not the only or even biggest piece. The large metal bowl that Eleanora placed in the center of the grave was quite important in fact.

Burning hair directly on grass can lead to a much bigger fire, so the bowl is incredibly necessary. As is the lavendar if you have a functioning sense of smell. Or you don't want to accidentally summon an angry poltergeist - which Eleanora has never done, of course!

Eleanora dumped Zora's hair into the bowl along with a few digs of lavendar and then dropped a lit match in too. She took two deep breaths.

"Galvin Davies," Eleanora repeated his name as her eyes unfocused. The flame danced within the bowl. Eleanora cupped her hands over it, "Galvin Davies."

He shimmered into existence on the other side of the marker. A tall black man with sheared hair and a goatee. The blue suit made his eyes pop and Eleanora had never seen a ghost smile that big.

"Hello Miss Bond."

Eleanora kept her hands over the flame, "Hello, Galvin. You got a minute?"

Galvin tipped his head forward and nodded. He plopped down on the ground opposite her. The bowl between them.

"I'd like to know more about your death, if you don't mind." Eleanora tilted her head to the side. His smile faultered, "What?"

"To start, I was murdered," Galvin sighed. His eyes lowered to the dancing fire as he rested his chin in his palm. "I didn't disconnect myself like they said. Never would."

Eleanora blinked, "That is new information." Her mind whirled as it slotted Galvin's murder beside Oriana's. "Who did?"

"No clue," Galvin looked up at her. His brow furrowed. "It just wasn't me. I wouldn't leave Stella, not like that for damn sure. And I was bound and determined to walk my baby girl down the aisle one day. I was gonna do it, somehow."

Eleanora felt her lips pull up, "She's an interesting girl. Stubborn, and a little blunt." Galvin's forehead smoothed and wrinkled formed around his eyes. "I've only met her twice, but she's left an impression."

"Zora Neale Hurston." Galvin straightened as his smile swamped his whole face. "I was an English teacher. Hurston was one of my favorite writers from the Harlem Renaisance. It took me months to convince Stella, but I knew my girl was going to have a voice. She's gonna make a splash."

"It definitely suits her." Eleanora nodded. Her eyes darted down to flame. It was starting to die down a bit. "Can you tell me about Amity?"

The smile slipped again. "He was trouble. I tried to tell Ana, but she wouldn't listen. I tried to talk to him, and well, he proved my point."

Eleanora frowned, swallowed, "I need to know what happened." She pursed her lips as Galvin stared at her, "I'm sorry."

"He beat me, wrapped something around my neck, and tried to strangle me." Galvin breathed through his nose. The flame flickered, so did Galvin. "I passed out. When I came to I couldn't feel my fingers or my toes. Docs weren't sure I ever would, said my brain lost oxygen for too long."

"Do you know who might hate him for it? For hurting you?"

Galvin's brow lifted, "Besides my family?" Eleanora nodded. "I was a teacher, like I said, I'd like to think my students would have been affected. Can't imagine hating a man for seven years over that though."

"Maybe it…maybe it wasn't about you?" Eleanora quirked her head to the side and Galvin's eyes went wide.

The flame flickered as Galvin tried to speak "… - heartbroken!" And then he was gone. The flame had burned out and Galvin had shimmered away.

"Damn!" Eleanora groaned as she fell backwards into the grass. Above her, the branches of an oak tree swayed under the force of the wind. A strong gust sent a few leaves raining onto her face.

There was no question that Stella wouldn't agree to her doing this more. She hadn't really agreed so much as acquiesced to Domi's pleading the first time.

"So." Domi blew a leaf off her face. "I just have to figure out who was heartbroken seven years ago. And who's angry now."

Another gust of wind flew through the cemetery, upturning the metal bowl and sending burnt hair into air. The smell wafted up into Eleanora's face. She wrinkled her nose.

Galvin's voice echoed off the ground, "Talk to Ana."

Eleanora sat straight up. She looked left, she looked right. No ghost. "Don't do that Galvin," Eleanora whispered, eyes closed, "You're at rest. Stay there, trust me. I'll figure it out."

An obnoxiously strong gust threw her metal bowl into her stomach. Eleanora snorted. The wind thrashed against the oak tree.

"The veil only works one way, my friend." The wind died down. Eleanora sighed as she lay back down. "If you try to come back, it won't be you that makes it through." The mellow breeze from earlier continued, unabated and unassisted.

#sapphicseptember #sapphicseptember2019 #daily writing challenge #the life and times of a writer #writers on tumblr #writer life #writing #writblr #writeblr

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the-colony-roleplay · 5 years

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COLONY 22′S 2ND ANNUAL APPRECIATION AWARDS

Oh, how much could change in a year.

Alex Donovan remembered last year, as disinclined as he’d been to agree to be one of the three hosts for the night, how he’d watched the frantic decorating committee’ and thought: well at least I’m not one of those unfortunate fools.

And this year, well—he was very nearly one of those unfortunate fools. He wouldn’t go so far as to say he was one of a ‘committee’, but he’d been helping bring out boxes to the decorating team all ever-loving day, and several hours ago they’d begun asking his opinion on things and he’d declined to answer at first. But somehow, come 4pm, he’d found himself up to his neck in garlands and twinkle lights and about to be late for his afternoon training session.

When he walked into the auditorium after dinner (sporting black trousers, a white T-shirt and a deep blue blazer) he had to admit he was impressed. And maybe just a little proud. Because looking around, the room had truly been transformed. A lot of hard work and love had gone into it, clearly, and if nothing else, it would surely make Mitch beam. And Heaven bless that ever-optimistic, selfless man—he deserved at least that this season. It made any suffering on Alex’s part worth it, knowing the event was that much more likely to be the success that the original Calyset Head of House dreamed it would be.

What set this year apart from the last—aside from the Reformist-shaped elephant in the room—is that they’d gone full out traditional Christmas this year. Not wintery blues and silvers (a good thing, too, because it may have just been a throw back to the Modius’ Brink Tower reopening—not a failure by any means, but just a sore spot on the roof of the mouths of too many here), but instead, warm and boasting golds and reds and forest greens. Rich colours hung from the walls and pillars in thick tapestries and glowing lights. Ribbons and wreaths and candles sprinkled the room with a bursting festiveness, and not one, but three Christmas trees brightened up the room—even the damaged areas, rubble and broken seats simply became the contrasting foundation of effervescent decorations.

There was even mistletoe. In one or two surreptitious places, waiting patiently for unsuspecting victims.

Okay... so it did look a little like Christmas had thrown up all over the old theatre. But hell—if that was its worst flaw, they had nothing to complain about in their post-apocalyptic today.

People filtered in slowly, chatting and laughing and mingling about, making comments about their outfits, the decor... and Alex supposed that even those who thought the night a waste of time, at the very least, it couldn’t be said that it hadn’t already brought a certain atmosphere of light-hearted relief over the modest, island Colony. Even if just for a night.

At about a quarter after seven, the house lights faded in and out three times, a voice coming over the loud speaker to ask that people take their seats, as the ceremonies were about to start. Taking that as his queue (and Christ, he still couldn’t believe Mitch had asked him to do the opening speech this year—though somehow the fact that Alex had been convinced was less of a surprise, considering his track record with being unable to tell that man no, for just about anything) Alex politely excused himself from his conversation with Cambie, and threw Caelan a grin and a wink when he spotted him striding by with Isha and Clay. Left a smile and a light touch on Clayton’s elbow as they crossed each other’s paths.

And then he was trotting up stage steps, with people still settling into their seats. The lights dimmed, a spotlight panned over to him, and applause grew from the crowd. Chuckling, eyes cast down as he shook his head, he found his place at the podium:

“Good evening, Colony 22. I’d like to start off by saying thank you, to everyone who worked so hard to make this night happen—and that includes all of you who have participated just by being in attendance tonight. Truly, we appreciate it. Because it’s not just about the decorations or the preparation, the drinks or the snacks—though I’m sure the food and drink is the main reason most of you even bothered to show up,” he paused, grinning. “But it’s impossible to nurture a sense of community without all of you—the community. So thank you.” Another pause, and he pointed a wagging finger at Mitch in the second row. “And if nothing else, you can all go home knowing that you’ve put a shit-eating grin on that man’s face—which is apparently how I got suckered into opening tonight’s ceremonies. So while we’re at it, if any of you figure out how to say no to Mr. Douglas, please be sure to come by my office later and loop me in. Preferably before he asks me about doing this again next year.”

A warm, light chuckle from the audience, and with a smile, Alex continued. “Now, as you’re all aware, I’m not Mitch. I have no poetic to weave you about the trials and tribulations we face on a daily basis and how they bring us together in strength and unity. But that isn’t to say what he has said, and what this night now represents is not of value. In fact, I very much believe it to be true. In times such as these, in the face of change and conflict and rebellion, now more than ever it’s important to remember how we got this far. How we have survived, and how we continue to survive. Because we have not done it through selfishness, or greed. We have not accomplished as much as we have by functioning only as every person for themselves. We have gotten this far through cooperation and support. Through contribution and sacrifice, comfort and strength.

“I have been here next to three years now, and I have watched so many of you grow, and I am so proud of each and every one of you. What I think is too easy to forget in all of this, is that after what we’ve all faced, every day done is an accomplishment. Every day, we could choose to give up, to turn back, or throw in the towel. Rebuilding is hard. Starting over in the face of loss can feel impossible. So remember to take the time to recognize that.” He paused, threw a grin at the audience. “Well, look at that, I guess I did have some poetic to weave. Kindly blame Douglas for that too, would you?”

As the audience laughed again, Alex straightened, his tone lightening. “Alright, I’m not going to tell you too much about the awards themselves—I’ll leave that to our lovely hosts, whom I’m very excited to call to the stage and not just because then I can get the hell out of here. But before I do that, I’ll remind you that after the ceremonies there is a reception down at Catch 22, where they’ll be serving food and drinks, and I believe I heard a rumour or two about dancing and karaoke. For which I plan on making myself very scarce. But nevertheless, have an excellent time tonight, happy holidays, and congratulations on wrapping up another fantastic year.

“And now without further adieu—may I present your hosts for this evening: Orson Hurst, Elsa Copland and Mouse Quinley.”

A/N: AND SO IT BEGINS!!!

Well folks... Welcome to the last event of 2018! It has not just been a good year at Colony 22, but a spectacular one. I feel like we too, (much like our characters in verse,) have special cause for celebration—not only do we have our fifth year anniversary coming up, but this year has gifted us so many excellent, long-term members joining the family and exciting new plots, characters and development.

This event will punctuate the year with a bit of light hearted fun that we hope will lead nicely into an exciting 2019 at the Colony, which Lottie and I already have big plans for. We thank you all for being here, for your commitment, enthusiasm and love, and we hope you all stay with us here and continue to write and grow with us for a long time to come!

Now, most of the information you need about the Event Rules themselves I have already posted in detail and you can find here. Make sure you are familiar with them before starting, if you are new to events at the Colony. And if you’re not new, well, it never hurts to have a refresher!

A friendly reminder to send any questions you have about the event to the main blog ASK as we’d prefer to answer them publicly so the knowledge can be shared with everyone, as it’s likely that if you have a question, someone else may be wondering the same thing!

Remember too that this post marks the beginning of the first part of the evening: The Ceremonies only. You are welcome to RP anything that is leading up to the ceremonies, or during, but nothing past into the reception, until you see a post on the mod blog indicated the shift to the second part of the night, which won’t be until after (our real time) Christmas!

Over the next few days, you will see nomination and award reveals on the main blog, and as mentioned in the info post already posted (and linked above), you may continue old threads, or start new ones that are event related (self paras or graphics work too! Just remember that if you make any graphics in photoshop or anything send them to the graphics blog to be posted!)

Keep in mind that activity will still be monitored over Christmas. I still expect you to meet activity, and I still expect you to contact the main if you need an extension before I have to go chasing you down. The holidays are stressful enough—please do not send me on a wild goose chase. That said, I obviously get it: Holidays can be stressful and busy! So just let us know if you need an extension or hiatus!

I will do everything in my power to make sure all the awards are queued and posted promptly and when they’ve been promised—but if something comes up, things may shift a little here and there—nothing that should have too much of an effect though. The Reception will hopefully be triggered sometime between the 27th and 29th, depending on schedules.

Alright, I believe thats all I got for now! But happy holidays everyone, and enjoy! The first awards post will likely roll out here in a few hours!

Much love,

xxPapa!Mod

#col22awards2 #col22admin #literate rp #original rp #mature rp

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turquoisemagpie · 6 years

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WKM: 20 Years Later.

With a limping Jim to help all the way across town, Lottie and the two Jims took nearly hours to walk back to her place; the whole time Lottie kept an eye and ear out for Abe, or Kyle, or anyone who would definitely be looking high and low for her at that point. The reached her apartment and the Jims hopped their way up the stairs while Lottie asked the landlady if there was a first aid kit or a bag of ice she could use. Attaining a half empty first aid box and a very sorry looking bag of frozen peas, she caught up to the Jims and let them into her room. “Poof!” uninjured Jim huffed, “Not been the best of days, has it Jim?” His brother gave him a disgruntled scowl as Lottie sat him down on the bed and rested his broken foot on a small box. “No, it certainly has not, Jim! We didn’t get any fresh information this time around. Again! Maybe we should just give up, Jim.” Jim dramatically gasped in shock at the suggestion. “Never, Jim! How could you even say such a thing, Jim? My father Jim, your uncle Jim, would be disappointed in you, Jim!” “You boys say ‘Jim’ a lot.” Lottie suddenly said, carefully placing the bag of peas on injured Jim’s ankle. “Are both your names really ‘Jim’?” “Of course!” Jim said, “It’s our family name, and family tradition.” “So… every man in your family is called ‘Jim’?” “Everyone in our family is called Jim.” Lottie laughed, “I’m amazed you can tell which family member you’re talking about!” Jim laughed back, “You could say it’s also family tradition that we all know which Jim of the Jims we are talking about.” Lottie said, “I see.” She didn’t really. Changing the subject before her head exploded, she asked, “Why were you two trying to get into the kitchen in that place?” “We’re looking for evidence.” Jim explained, “Investigator Jim gave us some info that the chef of that restaurant has been committing cannibalistic crimes! For the past 13 years now people in the tougher regions of town have gone missing, but despite this that restaurant has been successfully serving the freshest meat courses in all of town!” Maybe it was the enthusiasm in Jim’s voice or the fact these past few days had been a rollercoaster of stress, but Lottie didn’t seem fazed by this alleged news of a cannibalistic chef. In fact, looking back at earlier, she would have been more surprised if the chef wasn’t up to anything fishy. As she rummaged through the first aid kit for a bandage, Jim continued, “So far me and Jim have found evidence of torture and kidnapping customers, particularly customers who haven’t paid for their meals. We’re onto something, we just need to catch him in the act, and we’ll have the best story our publishers have ever seen!” “Well, since the Murder of Markiplier Manor.” Lottie’s head shot up from the kit. “Markiplier Manor?!” she asked keenly. “Yep. One of the best reports our family headquarters has had in a long time! My father Jim, his uncle Jim, and my uncle Jim, his father Jim, were there on the location of the crime scene just minutes after the murder took place. I remember watching the live reports on TV at the time, me and Jim here; watching our role models throwing themselves around every corner, onto every floor, narrowly avoiding capture from the household’s guests. We were inspired to carry the family flame of being news reporters!” Lottie blinked hardly while trying to make sense of what Jim just said, but in failing she asked again, “B-but wait, you know about the murder! What do you know?” She fumbled around as she couldn’t decide whether to grab her notebook or quickly finish wrapping up Jim’s ankle. “Oh, we’ve watched the recordings of the reports countless times now.” Jim said with a happy sigh, “I’m sure the video player has nearly burnt out with how many times we’ve watched it.” The other Jim said, “There’s too much for me and Jim to tell.” Lottie paused as a lightbulb went off in her mind. “Then could I see the footage myself?” Both the Jims raised their eyebrows in amazement. They could almost feel her eager gaze burning lasers into their eyes. “Wow, Jim!” Jim said, “Finally! Someone who takes as much interest in investigative reporting as much as we do!” The other Jim pointed out, “One issue though, Jim. Our headquarters are confidential. The CEO clearly stated so, and has kept a terrifyingly stern reminder of that.” “I thought you said your headquarters was family run.” Lottie assumed. Both the Jims shook their heads. “After a while all the other Jims that weren’t into investigative reporting went on to pursue their own careers, and me and Jim were the only ones left to carry on the family tradition! But then, almost like a miracle, someone approached us to invest in our business as long as we became a branch of their bigger corporation. We were desperate so we let them in. But yes, one issue is that no one outside of the workplace must enter the headquarters.” There was a gasp as one Jim suddenly covered his mouth. He mumbled very quickly, “The CEO also said we were never to talk about anything to do with the corporation to anyone outside the headquarters, Jim!” His brother gasped too. “Good lord you’re right, Jim! Oh goodness, what have we done?! Oh, we’re in trouble, Jim. We’re in deep trouble, Jim!” Concerned and confused, Lottie could see true fear in the brothers’ eyes, as if they had just committed murder themselves. This CEO they mentioned seems pretty cruel. And she couldn’t help but feel sorry for the pair of them; their drive for their passion clearly got them into trouble regularly. She wanted to help them. And she also wanted them to help her without getting in trouble. Then she got an idea. “Are you hiring?” Lottie suddenly asked. Both the Jim’s looked up from burying their heads in their hands. “Sorry?” They both said in unison. “Well, I’d very much like to see the footage you boys have of the Markiplier Murder, but obviously that’s confidential because I’m not an employee. But if I was an employee it would be fine for me to see the footage. And also, if I’m an employee, you boys haven’t given away anything about your boss’ company, because you would have just been talking to someone who works there anyway. So, you wouldn’t get into trouble. Make’s sense?” Injured Jim pulled a rather gleeful expression, while his brother looked a little skeptical. He hissed through his teeth and asked, “Miss, are you 150% sure you’d want to work with us?” Lottie smiled and nodded. “I’ve been looking for a job for a while now. And I’ve always loved investigating. I think I can really help you guys out!” The Jim’s shared a look. Uninjured Jim sighed and asked, “Well, you would be a big help for me and Jim, but… this is not some kind of part-time job. You have to commit to the company, basically sell your soul to it. Are you willing to do that?” Lottie paused for a second but then shrugged her shoulders. “Heck, if this keeps me permanently employed, I’ll take it.” She could tell the Jim’s probably thought she was naïve and foolish, but she was prepared for whatever the job would throw at her. She wanted answers, and she always worked around every obstacle thrown in her way. “I’d hire you!” Injured Jim announced, “But I guess that’s the CEO’s decision. You’ll have to convince them yourself.” Lottie scoffed. “Bring it on.”

After discovering Jim’s ankle wasn’t broken and just sprained, his ankle was wrapped up and kept on the frozen peas until nighttime was approaching. The Jim’s informed that the working hours in the headquarters where nightly, and if they wanted to sign in on time and if Lottie wanted to ask the CEO for a job, they’d have to set off as soon as possible. But with Jim’s ankle still not fully back to itself they made their way to the headquarters at a rather grinding pace, which agitated both the Jims. Lottie couldn’t understand why until she realised after an hour of walking further into the nighttime, the Jim’s were heading to another town. Soon street lamps were the only light sources for miles. They followed what seemed like a rather unused dusty road surrounded by miles of cropland and only two or three large farms overlooking them all. Lottie couldn’t imagine how the road even existed. She was used to large highways and large tarmacked road surround and passing through the town. Whatever road existed that connected to town was always well used. So why hadn’t anyone noticed this road before? One thing was for sure; it lead straight into the next town by what the Jim’s described to her as ‘the quickest way possible’. This town was bigger, buildings were spread out more and taller, modernly built, more business than residential. Where her town was where the housewives would kiss their husbands’ goodbye every working morning, this town was where those husbands congregated to, with their briefcases and freshly pressed suits. “Here we are!” One of the Jim’s said as they approached a large 12 storey glass building. As they reached the door they went to a number pad on the side wall and typed a few numbers in. While they did so Lottie gazed up at the building. As her eyes lingered at the very top of the building she felt a cold breeze run around her arms. Celine rubbed her arms, as if the cold winds were affecting her too. But she wasn’t cold, something else very nearby was cold, and she could feel it breathing. “Something’s here.” Celine announced to you and Damien. Damien was nervously rubbing the back of his neck. “Yes. I feel it too, somehow.” he admitted, “But I can’t tell if it’s good or bad. Do you know what it is?” “It’s two things.” answered Celine, “Something good and something bad…Or rather… something very very bad… and something broken.” You felt your chest hurt, right where your bullet wound was, almost as if the bullet was slowly tuning inside you, ripping a new wound into your body. Looking at Damien and Celine, who looked back at you as well as each other, it was clear something was very wrong with whatever was in this building. “Lottie.” Celine suddenly said. She approached the pair of you and told you, “Whatever is in here is very dangerous, but we can’t do anything about it. But whatever it is, the only thing was can do now is protect Lottie. We’ll do all we can to make sure she’s not hurt by this. Agreed?” You nodded. “Agreed.” Damien responded. There was a beep as the number pad flashed green. The Jims walked to the glass doors and opened them, looking back to Lottie who stood on the pavement facing them. As they held the doors she took a deep breath and strode on inside.

Lottie walked into a rather sterile and bland looking lobby which looked like any typical business front desk; a few waiting chairs either side of a minimalistic long reception desk, the odd fake looking potted plants scattered about, and a large door to the rest of the building peeking to the side of the front desk to make attempting to get through the door without being seen by whoever’s on the desk near impossible. As the Jims walked ahead of her towards the door suddenly a small head with blueish looking hair peeked up from over the desk. They smiled as the Jim’s reached the desk. “Late again, boys.” they said cheerfully, “He’s not gonna be pleased with you.” “Which one?” Jim asked as he filled in a book on the desk. The blue haired boy raised an eyebrow and answered, “You know which one.” “Jim injured his ankle.” Jim explained, “We were too late to catch the last bus here, and Jim and I practically dragged our way here.” The receptionist took the book from them and put ticks by what the Jims had written. “I’ll cut you some slack. Considering how much shit you guys will be in for being—” He suddenly spotted Lottie and jolted back into his chair in a sudden panic. “—For letting someone from outside into the building!” Lottie noticed him reach under the table, and following it quiet and frantic clicking noises; he’d pressed a button to something. “Oh no, no, no!” Jim insisted, “The young missy here wants a job working in our department. She’s bound to get it, considering she knows this place exists now, so there’s no need to worry, right Jim?” “Correct, Jim.” Jim answered. The blue haired boy looked at Lottie in amazement, then asked her, “You… you want a job here? In this place?” Lottie shrugged. “Well, yeah. Why? Is there something I should know?” “No.” the receptionist answered, gazing down below the desk. His face seemed both confused and apprehensive. “Well, you’ll know eventually.” He stood up from the desk and shuffled out from behind it. “Just wait here a moment, Miss.” he finished and suddenly rushed through the doors behind him. Bewildered Lottie asked the Jims, “What’s going on?” “With him, or right at this moment in time?” “In general!” “That’s a large and complex question to answer!” Jim answered rather dramatically, “In terms of the receptionist, he’s probably going to stop the security alert, since he pressed the alarm on seeing you here.” The Jims headed towards the door the receptionist left through. “In terms of what’s going on with me and Jim, we’re going back to our office to find the footage you need.” As they reached the door Jim turned back to Lottie, pointing at her, and said, “And as for you, you’ll have to wait here a moment, like the receptionist said so.” One Jim went through the door while the other hung back to add, “You’ll be fine, I’m sure of it. You could talk your way out of a war zone.” The Jims left.

Left in the silence of the lobby, Lottie ambled around the place, scuffing her feet on the carpet as she walked. She decided to take a peek at the front desk. Flipping through the pages of the sign in book, Lottie couldn’t help but notice the dates went back and forth between months, even years. A sign in book for time travellers? Maybe? She looked under the desk and found a long row of many buttons, labeled only with different lettered initials. Two buttons were flashing, one labeled ‘WW’, the other labeled ‘G’. Were they security? “You are in an unauthorised area.” Lottie snapped up from the desk and nearly fell onto the desk chair when she found a rather uncompromising looking man, wearing a simple blue t-shirt with a large G printed on it, standing over the desk inches from her face. She froze on the spot, not knowing what to do. The man’s gaze was terrifying and piercing, and even though his face was completely dead of any expression, he looked as if he was ready to choke you to death at any minute. She wanted to get out from the desk but she was scared to move in case he would suddenly fire lasers out of his eyes. But she had to get out; he said she wasn’t meant to be there. Lottie hesitated for a while to try and think of something to say, and she hesitated more as she found the man’s face disturbingly similar to the Jims. Was this another Jim? “I’m… I’m sorry.” Lottie stuttered, “I didn’t know. I was just looking around.” She carefully but quickly got out from behind the desk, the man watched her intensely as she did so. “You are still within an unauthorised area.” He said, speaking in a rather soft yet droning voice, “You are an anomaly as the chances of any unauthorised personnel to even locate this building are 20341 to 1.” “I’m… sorry?” Lottie didn’t really understand what he meant. For a brief second, the man’s movements twitched as he began to approach her. He seemed almost to twitch as if time was stuck for a moment, like a scratch on a disc. Instantly unsettled, Lottie started to back away, but he continued to walk towards her, with disturbingly smooth steps and a very stiff posture. The man explained, “It is felonious for anyone outside of this establishment to infiltrate this building. And punishment for infiltration equates to my secondary-.” “Hold on!” Lottie demanded, “I don’t know what the hell you mean! What the heck is ‘felonious’?” Suddenly the man stopped, stood tall and looked off to a side as he quickly responded, “Felonious: adjective, relating to or involved in crime.” Then he quickly snapped back to staring Lottie down and dauntingly approaching her. “-punishment for infiltration equates to my secondary objective. Granted full access to admin permissions, I am capable of-.” “Woah, woah. Back the fuck up Mr. Dictionary!” Lottie said, trying her hardest not to laugh, “Do you think you’re some kind of robot? What are you?” Once again, the man stood tall and quickly answered, “I am Google IRL, version 2.0, unit code QWE411101. My primary objective is to answer questions as quickly as possible.” Lottie blinked. She wasn’t sure whether to take him seriously or not. “What’s your secondary objective then?” He looked at her and, unexpectedly, began to pull a repulsive smile. “Secondary objective is to destroy mankind.” Out of nowhere he raised his arm back, ready to swing a punch into Lottie’s terrified face. “Don’t you dare!” Celine growled, ready to throw a fist of her own at Google’s head.

“GOOGLE!” Lottie opened her eyes to see Google’s clenched fist hovering centimetres from her face. She noticed the skin of his knuckles were worn down but the bone beneath glinted silver. He pulled his hand away and turned to face the sudden voice. “Hello, sir.” he said, returning to his ‘warmer’ tone of voice, “How can I help?” “What on earth are you doing, tin man?” said a rather orotund yet slurred voice, “We wouldn’t want any blood or brains all over the lobby walls now, would we? That would make our visitor very upset.” Lottie peeked over Google’s shoulder… and could really believe who she saw was real. It was another man who, once again, looked like a family relative of the Jims. This one must have been their mad uncle or something. He wore a mustard yellow shirt with a rosy pink bow tie at the collar, and his light brown trousers were held up with a pair of equally pink suspenders. Beneath his brown suede shoes, he wore stripy socks of multiple shades of pink. As wild and eccentric his dress sense seemed to be, one thing definitely caught Lottie’s attention; a bright pink beautifully curled moustache. He stood in the centre of the lobby, with his arms crossed and a rather unimpressed look on his face. “I’m sorry.” Google responded in an un-sorry tone, “I was not informed that this unauthorised personnel was a visitor.” The pink-moustached man scoffed. “Well, good thing I got here on time. I’ll deal with this from here on out, Google. I’m sure King is looking for help trying to pick up his nuts after the explosion.” “Very well.” Google said with a grumble and he effortlessly marched to the door, the pink man watching him as he left. Then he turned back to Lottie, and with a pouted lip and a raised eyebrow he gazed at her quizzically. “Good evening, miss.” he announced in a booming voice, “My name is Wilford Warfstache, world-renown senior reporter and the CEO of this establishment.” As Lottie approached him, he held out his hand for her to shake. “And your name, Miss?” William! “Huh?” Lottie hummed in question. Did someone say ‘William’? “What is your name, if you don’t mind me asking?” Wilford pressed again. Lottie could only describe his voice as ‘flowing as smooth as chunky peanut butter’: it wanted to be smoother, but couldn’t help but jump and quicken at certain words. “Charlotte.” she answered, taking his hand and shaking it confidently, “But I prefer the nickname Lottie.” “A very bold and confident name indeed.” Wilford said, “It’s very nice to meet you.” They parted hands and he straighten up and motioned her to follow him as they walked into the rest of the building.

#magpie ramblings #WKM: 20 years later #who killed markiplier #ocs #jimiplier #wilford warfstache #googlplier

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hannahsmusings · 3 years

Text

Lou

*Louis can’t help but roll his eyes at Lottie question* No, I hid behind a bush and watched her from afar. Of course we talked, Lots. *he smiles although it isn’t a full Louis smile but it was something, finding his sarcasm coming back to him easily now that he was home, having to keep a tight lip in prison, one sarcastic comment could’ve got him in a bad situation and his goal for himself was to not get in any fights while locked up* *he was desperate for his old personality to come back, wanting to be that funny guy again, but he knew it’d take some time to get back into the swing of not watching what he said constantly* I ended up walking to that park… you know the one she and I used to spend hours at? She… She was there. *he can’t help the faint smile that appears on his face at that, the realization of what that could’ve meant dawned on him, you were still going to that park, that had to mean something more than just coincidence* She told me she forgave me, Lottie. She said she wasn’t mad at me anymore. I never thought I’d hear those words from her… fuck, I never thought I’d hear any words from her anymore… but we talked. Not properly, of course, but it was somehow deeper and better than some bullshit small talk you know?

*Luke nods at you, tilting his head as he tries to examine you, able to sense something was off but not sure what it was, wanting to just chalk it up to your exhaustion from the week but feeling like there was something else but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it* Of course, that’s fine, love. I can cancel too if you want me to be here… or I can make myself scarce. Whatever you want, baby. *he kisses the top of your head before focusing back on the breakfast, finishing up and plating everything*

_________________________________________

*groans and roll my eyes a little as you joke, pleased you seemed to be joking a little still as although I could see you were pleased to be home last night but also you weren’t 100% yourself* I wouldn’t blame you if you did just hide and watch to be honest. *laughs a little but knowing it would take huge bravery to talk to someone that meant so much when it ended so badly* *eyebrows raise as you say she was at ‘your’ park, us always joking how that was your secret spot as I knew you often went there with her* *breaks out into a soft smile when you say she forgave you, knowing Hannah well so I’d expected that but not thinking she would have said, really just rooting for you both as I thought you were made for each other and I wanted it to work out* That’s so good. Do you feel better about it after seeing her? How was it left? *curious whether you’d be friends or what*

*shakes my head as you offer to cancel, looking up at you with a soft smile* No it’s okay, you enjoy yourself. I’ll probably have an early night anyway. *smiles as I lean into your side but it not quite reaching my eyes, sipping my coffee and realising I didn’t want it, I wanted tea, having not drunk tea since me and Louis broke up because every time I did it reminded me of him but now it was all I was craving, rummaging in the cupboard for some and smiling a little as I find a tea bag before making a cup and sitting down at the island*

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stars-sunsets-and-oliver · 6 years

Text

The Smooth Criminal: Chapter 1

I walk slowly into the bar, easily picking out my victims. Him, him, and… him. I mentally point to three of the men in the bar. I see the first two sitting, staring at all the girls like predators. They’ll be easy. As for the third one... Looks like he’ll be more of a challenge. There are plenty of girls coming his way, but he just dismisses them. I’ll save him for last. I always did like a challenge.

As I walk towards my first victim one of my favorite songs comes on, right as he notices me too. Perfect. I start dancing with all I got, waiting for him to come over. My revealing dress certainly caught his attention if my, not so appropriate, dance moves didn’t. I was in a tight red thigh-length dress with a low back, and deep V-Neck, as well and some black lacy flats. Hey, I need to be able to get out fast.

I feel an arm wrap around my waist, and an intoxicated breath hit my neck as the person speaks.

“Hey there beautiful,” the man purrs “mind if I join you?” I smirk, I’ve never failed before. I turn in his grip and look up at him, spotting his wallet in his pocket on the way. Bingo.

“And why would I mind a person like you joining me?” I say, putting on my best innocent face.

As my favorite song comes to an end, Smooth Criminal by Michael Jackson comes on. What a perfect coincidence, isn’t it?

“What do you say I buy you a drink?” He mutters in my ear, his hands on my waist. Normally I’d be disgusted by somebody acting this way, and still am, but hey, I got a job to do.

“That sounds wonderful, by the way handsome, what’s your name?” I purr as he pulls me to the bar. Seducing people is easy, especially drunk people. He buys my drink, and we sit next to each other by the bar. I rest my hand on his leg, right next to his wallet. Just a little longer… I mentally say to myself.

We talk for a bit longer. I learn his name is Cody, not that I cared. Finally, I get my chance and slip his wallet out of his pocket, slipping into my purse.

“You’ve been hit by,” bam bam “ You’ve been hit by,” bam “a smooth criminal!” Plays out of the speakers right then. That couldn’t have played out better.

“As much as I’d love to stay…” I start, feigning upset “I’ve got to go.”

“Really beautiful? Must you?” He says, placing his hand on my thigh. I fake a smile, despite wanting to gag.

“Ya.. maybe I’ll see you around. Bye handsome.” I purr, standing and walking into the crowd before he can stop me. One down, two to go.

I spot victim two, making out with some mega-bitch looking girl. I walk nearby, and lean in a seductive pose, against the wall nearby. Close enough for him to see me, but not close enough to make it obvious.

He stops his little make-out session and says something to mega-bitch as I will now refer to her. She pouts for a second then leaves with a huff of annoyance. He stands and takes a wobbly step towards me, clearly drunk.

Well, that makes this easier. I think before heading over.

“Hey, there handsome.” I purr at him. He smirks.

“Well hello there… What might your name be?” He responds, his words slurred.

“What need is there for names?” I ask “And by the way, whoever that girl you were making out with is, I can probably to do better.” I finish with a smirk.

“Oh? And why don’t I make that call?” He says, pushing me against the wall. I smirk at him.

“Alright then.. Go ahead and make the call.” I tease. Immediately his lips are against mine roughly, the taste of alcohol is nauseating. I feel like gagging again, but know I can’t or I’ll ruin this job. I’ve never failed before, and I’m not starting now.

I kiss back heavily, my hands roaming his back until I find his wallet in his back pocket. Without the drunken man noticing, I slip it in my purse.

I pull away, seemingly for breath then widen my eyes.

“Who’s that?” I exclaim, looking at nobody in particular.

“What? Who?” He says turning around a little too quickly, and losing his balance slightly. I quickly slip away into the crowd before he turns around again. Job two, successful.

“Now for the tricky one…” I mutter to myself. I slip through the crowd, grabbing a drink in the process until I spot him. He leaned against the wall, his dark eyes scanning the crowd. He’s tall, looks to be 6’3 or so, with decent muscles. He’s wearing a black button-down shirt, dark jeans, and a pair of nice shoes. He’s gotta have a good wallet on him.

His hair is a dark chocolate brown, falling with a swoop over his forehead. His eyes were a color to match, looking bored at the moment. I lean against the wall little ways away, sipping from my cup slowly. I make it fairly obvious I look at him until he notices me. When he does, I look away making blush rise to my cheeks, something I taught myself to do.

I glance up as I hear a giggle from his direction and… oh, look! Mega-bitch his flirting with Mr.Tall-Dark-&-Handsome. Yes, that is his name now.

I roll my eyes as if disgusted by her actions, which I am but… I make sure he sees it. Mr.Tall-Dark-&-Handsome pushes Mega-bitch away. Or tries to. She clings to him, before pushing her lips against him almost desperately. He pushes her off and says something to her before pushing her away.

I look away smiling a tiny bit after seeing him glance at me. For some reason after another random song ends Smooth Criminal comes on again. Before paying attention to Mr.Tall-Dark-&-Handsome who surely noticed me I look at the DJ’s booth. When I see who’s running it I have to hide a smile. No wonder Smooth Criminal keeps coming on, one of Bryan’s friends is running the booth.

When he sees me notice him Bryan’s friend, Colby, lifts and lowers his eyebrows in a joking manner, and I have to hold in a laugh. Before I can be distracted further someone clears their throat behind me.

I turn around and see none other than Mr.Tall-Dark-&-Handsome standing behind me. I mentally smirk, still haven’t failed once.

“Well, hello, didn’t hear you come up.” I said to him, acting casual taking a sip.

“It’s hard to hear anything in this bar with that song playing so loud.” The man said, a smirk winding its way onto his lips.

“This is actually one of my favorite songs.” I state simply, watching his eyes.

“Why? Are you a criminal?” He teases.

“Hah, like I have what it takes to get away with a crime. No way.”

“You’ve been hit by,” bam bam “you’ve been hit by,” bam “a smooth criminal!” Plays through the speaker.

Damn, Colby has some timing skills.

“Alright then, I’ll have to take your word for it. By the way, what’s your name?” He replies.

“And why should I tell you my name? How do I know you aren’t the smooth criminal?” I tease him.

“Well, you should tell me because otherwise I’ll have to call you beautiful, and that doesn’t seem appropriate.” He says, smirking. This time, the blush wasn’t forced.

“I think I could live with that, it has a nice ring to it.” I remark, letting a small smile made its way onto my lips. Maybe he is a smooth criminal, he certainly fits the ‘smooth’ portion. Stop it! You can’t think like that, he’s just a victim. I mentally scold myself.

“Does that mean you won’t tell me?” He asks, feigning to be hurt.

“Oh don’t pout, maybe you’ll find out later.” I say jokingly snarky.

“Does that mean there’ll be a later?” He questions, almost hopefully.

“You’ll have to wait and see, won’t you?” I answer. I let myself genuinely smile at him. Wow, I realize I’ve never genuinely smiled on the job before. But is that good or bad? Oh, shut up mind.

Suddenly a concentrated look crosses his face.

“Hey? What’s up? You look, thoughtful.” I remark, my smile falling.

“You have a lot going on in your life, don’t you?” I say suddenly, surprising me. “Your smile doesn’t reach your eyes.”

I look at him surprised, he had seen that just from a smile? Damn this man was good.

“What?” I question, confused. He shook his head said as if to clear it.

“Nevermind. Anyway, seeing as you won’t tell me your name I might as well tell you mine. I’m Dan.” He says again, dismissing what he just said. What on earth?

Dan… the name fits him somehow. Suddenly I spot his wallet as he turns, looking confused as Smooth Criminal starts playing once again. This is my chance! I mentally say, but for some reason, I hesitate, ruining my chance.

What the hell? Am I going soft? Damnit! I can’t do this. I reach into my purse, pulling out my phone and checking the time, even though I already know it.

“Shoot. It’s later than I thought. I have to go.” I say, the hint of sadness in my voice real. What is happening to me?!

“Do you? Darn..” Dan says. “Well… in that case can I have your number?”

I freeze. I do NOT want to get involved with anyone outside of my “Crime circle” and Bryan calls it.

“Sure.” I reply. WTF IS HAPPENING TO ME!?! I write down my number despite mentally hating myself. Something draws me to him.

“Oh and… your name then?” he asks, hopeful. I hesitate this time, a number I can go back on, say he has the wrong one or something. A name.. I could make one up but if it goes farther… No! There is no farther in this! I mentally scream.

“I go by Lottie.” I say, handing him the number, then with a bye, I slide off into the crowd. I make my way to the DJ stand to talk to Colby. And maybe flirt. I can’t help it! He’s hot, and one of the nicest boys in “The Crime Circle”. Bryan’s name seemed to stick to us.

“Hey, Colby.” I say, leaning against the booth.

“Hey, Charles.” Colby replies smirking. My name is Charlotte, and Colby, unlike everyone, calls me Charles instead of Lottie. I roll my eyes.

“What’s with all the Smooth Criminal?” I ask, as he yet again starts it up.

“Seemed appropriate for the job you were doing. Doesn’t it.”

“Well yeah, I guess. Anyways just stopped to say hi on my way out. Gotta get going before one of them notices me.” I say. I use the term “them” so nobody overhears and is worried. Which would make sense, if you heard somebody say ‘victim’ in a bar.

“Do I get a goodbye kiss then?” He says, coming around the booth side letting Smooth Criminal play.

“In your dreams Colby.” I say, slipping his wallet from his pocket without him noticing. I walk away a bit before turning back. “Oh yeah, one last thing Colby.”

“What is it?”

“I didn’t know I was that distracting.” He looks confused for a second before I held up his wallet. His confused expression turned to shock as he reached for me. I tried to run but wasn’t fast enough in my dress before his arms snake around my waist.

“Did you really expect to get away from me?” Colby whispers in my ear.

“Maybe…” I say slyly as he takes his wallet from me.

“Well, you don’t steal from Colb-master without a punishment.

“Colb-master? Rea-” I start before I’m cut off Colby’s lips pressed against mine. I blink in shock and then his lips are gone. He smirks at my shocked face before letting me go.

“Punishment over.” He declares, going back to the booth.

“You’ve been hit by,” bam bam “you’ve been hit by,” bam “a smooth criminal!” Plays. Damn you Colby and your good timing!

I walk out of the bar, heading to my car. I decided that I would take a loop around the block a few times to calm myself and head back to the house.

#story #septicliterature #sclc #mine #my story #my writing #sophie writes #chapter 1 #oliver writes

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solohux · 7 years

Note

Hi Lottie, would you be willing to write something with Hanahaki disease in it? I love your angst 💞

‘Hanahaki disease is an illness born from one-sided love, where the patient coughs up flowers orflower petals. The only cure is to have that love reciprocated. The infectioncan be removed through surgery, but the feelings disappear along with the petals.’

From the moment he meets the chaotic and woeful soul thatcalls himself Kylo Ren, Armitage Hux knows that he’s going to be ruined by him.

The strong stance and his power are just the drizzle in thestorm that Hux finds himself in; only when the Knight removes his helmet andHux sees the big brown doe-eyes and the dark, scraggily-yet-full head of dark hair and the porcelainpale skin does Hux know that this tornado is unstoppable. And it’s headedstraight for his heart.

It’s a slow morning on the Finalizer’s bridge when the first one appears. Hux feels a ticklein his throat, his disinterest at the sensation growing into a panic when he feelsas though something is moving up histhroat and into his mouth. He coughs, cupping both of his hands over his mouthas he gags and splutters, stopping when the thingnestles onto his tongue. Striding to the side of the bridge in attempt tohide his strange behaviour, Hux plucks the odd thing from his tongue, andfrowns.

It’s a petal, brightorange in colour and elongated softly in shape with a gentle curl at one end. Huxstares at it for a moment, unbelieving that he’s in reality before popping thepetal into his pocket for later analysis. As of now, his attention needs to beon his ship and his crew. He moves back into his position at the helm of the bridgeand resumes his daydreams of Kylo.

The second time it happens is only a few weeks later, and Huxis at the front of Conference Room 2A, standing tall in front of the screenthat’s covered in statistics and graphs. He’s mid-sentence about possibilitiesto increase the accuracy of TIE-fighter shots when he feels it. The same sensation of somethingbeing forced up his throat and into his mouth whilst he coughs makes Hux’spresentation halt for a moment, his cheeks turning red for all his subordinatesto see. Mitaka stands and passes Hux a glass of water, to which he promptlyrefuses, knowing that he could potentially cough the water back up and spit the petal out with it. Huxcovers his mouth with his hand, sighing when he feels the petal push againsthis lips and he pulls it out and clenches his fist around it, hiding it.

“My apologies,” Hux says, clearing his throat, eyes beingdrawn to the dark figure in the corner.

Kylo stands completely still, helmet on his head, hidinghis beautiful face from Hux’s sight,obviously indifferent that Hux has seemingly almost choked in the middle of his presentation.

‘He doesn’t care,’ Huxabsently thinks, feeling a sadness radiate through his chest like a twistingvine, constricting his breath. ‘He’llnever care.’

Regardless, Hux carries on.

Once Hux is back to his quarters that same evening, he goesagainst his better judgment and searches HoloNet for any sort of diagnosis tohis strange illness.

‘Coughingup petals’, much to his dismay, comes up in the suggestedsearch. Eagerly, he clicks on the first and most popular result, readingthrough it quickly. It’s a grand medical site, complete with symptom checker, that seems to consolidateevery known disease and illness in the galaxy, from the common cold of AdulnusPrime to the flesh-eating virus of Mulutica III.

On the second page of the ‘lung & chest problems’ section, Huxsees the name for what he has.

Hanahaki Disease. ‘Anillness born from one-sided love, where the patient coughs up flower petals—of aflower that means something to The One. The only cure is to have that lovereciprocated. The infection can be removed through surgery, but the feelingsdisappear along with the petals.’

One-sided love. Unrequitedlove.

“Kylo,” Hux whispers, voice shaking, glancing over to hisorange flower petals, somehow feeling morehurt by the solidification of the lack of Kylo’s feelings for him.

Idly, Hux curses him. That selfish, domineering bastard, with his deep eyes and full lips, giving Hux a horrendouscondition such as this. He casts his eyes back down to the screen.

‘The Hanahakidisease can be deadly. The growing flowers inside the patient’s chest cavitywill eventually clog up the respiratory system and the windpipe, leading todeath via suffocation.’

Hux locks his datapad immediately, pushing it away fromhim.

Ironic, he thinks as tears fall down his cold cheeks, thatlove can quite literally kill.

Gingerbell petals.

A flower that’s native to Alderaan.

Symbolising everlasting love and consistency betweenpartners.

Hux stares at the floating orange petals in his bathwater,knees drawn up under his chin, watching the dozen of them sail around his palebody, things that would usually represent life only signifying his loomingdeath.

Surgery to remove the growing plant in his chest is apossibility but with it, it would remove all feelings for Kylo, and Hux shiversat the mere thought of being indifferent towards the Knight. His love for Kylo drives him; not only in the sense ofgetting out bed at the beginning of each cycle but to fight for the galaxy that Kylo deserves, that he wants.

Hux coughs, choking on another few Gingerbell petals,cradling them in his hand as though they aren’t killing him.

Though, the petals aren’t killing him, Hux supposes. Kylois.

“General Hux. A word.”

The raspy sound of Kylo’s voice through his helmet sendsshivers down Hux’s spine and makes his chest ache, obviously awakening theflower inside his lungs.

“What is it, Ren?” Hux replies, tone as stern as Kylo’s. Ithurts.

“The Supreme Leader wishes me to inquire about your health,”Kylo says. “He’s been alerted to the fact that you’ve been suffering from nastycoughing fits and he is concerned that you are not functioning at your optimalpotential which is required.”

It’s all so formal that Hux’s head stars to ache, a littledisorientated by standing so close to Kylo, feeling his gaze burrowing into hisskull from behind his mask.

“I’m quite alright,” Hux answers. “The Supreme Leader needn’tbe concerned. He’s—”

“What about me?” Kylo chirps back, and Hux goes wide-eyed.

“…You?”

Hux’s mind is sent into a flurry of ‘this is it’ and ‘he’s worriedabout me’ at the bluntness of Kylo’s words, hoping that he’s seen his lastGingerbell flower for the rest of his life.

“Yes. Should I beconcerned? As you very much enjoy pointing out, I’m your co-commander, and I don’t wish to be struck down by whatever virusyou’re insisting on keeping hidden.”

Like he’s had a slap to the face, Hux takes an unstable stepbackwards, physically hurt by Kylo’s selfish concerns. His cough rises quickly,chest constricting, throat being assaulted by another damned petal. Hux covers his mouth quickly.

“You’re perfectly safe, Ren,” Hux says swiftly, feeling itrising. “I’d never want to bring harm to you.”

And before Kylo has the chance to spew his venom back inHux’s face, the General brushes past him and away, heading straight off thebridge and to his own quarters, coughing loudly as he runs, though no choke islouder than the sound of his shattering heart.

Starkiller helps him grieve, helps him forget.

The workload is almost as unbearable as the Gingerbellpetals that Hux still finds himselfchoking on, but as with his unrequited love, Hux copes with the demand forStarkiller’s completion. He sits alone in his office almost every evening,surrounded by hundreds of jars holding the bright orange petals, having foundthat seeing them in the trash only brought more sorrow to his broken and lonelyheart.

At least, this way, he’s keeping flowers that obviously mean something to Kylo. Therefore, they mean something to Hux.

But no one more than Hux knows how something so beautifulcan bring death.

And Starkiller had been sobeautiful.

Hux struggles to run through the snow and cover his mouthsimultaneously, his balance being tested from the tremors that mean imminentdestruction for the Base that Hux has poured his shattered heart into. But hedoesn’t think about his loss now, nor does he think about the petals filling isthroat or the odd and sharp pain they seem to be causing his chest.

Hux keeps his gaze firmly locked on Kylo’s prone form justup ahead, the snow stained with his blood. Hux pushes the petals back down witha firm swallow. Not now, death.

“Ren? Ren!” Hux drops to his knees beside Kylo, stomachclenching at the sight of the poor boy’s wounded body.

“H-Hux?” Kylowhispers, eyes opening, still conscious. He rolls onto his back, managing tostare up at Hux. “What are you doing—?”

“You have to get up,” Hux says, sliding a hand around theunderneath of Kylo’s trembling shoulders. “Starkiller is going to collapse. Wehave to go!”

With a groan, Kylo manages to stand with aid from Hux, his teethdigging into his bottom lip as the two trudge back through the snow to theirshuttle. Once they’re halfway to safety, Hux turns his head to look at Kylo,realising that this is the closest he’s ever been to the Knight without hismask on.

Kylo has freckles. Hiseyes are darker than Hux ever remembers them being, flecks of complex brownmarried with lighter hues, so much strength remaining despite the years ofweathering, glistening against the failing light of the planet, deep, invitingHux to drown in them, suffocate.

Hux stumbles, and they both fall onto their knees in thefreezing snow as the sounds of Starkiller’s destruction looms closer.

“Hux! You—”

Hux feels Kylo’s eyes on him, like a searchlight in thenight, every inch of him on show for his loveto see. Being unable to stop them, Hux coughs up petal after petal,scrunching his eyes closed to avoid seeing them fall gracefully from his mouthand onto the snowy ground.

“They—They’re Gingerbells,”Kylo whispers, staring down at the orange petals. “My…Oh. Stars, Hux.”

Hux can’t even bring himself to look at Kylo; the pain that’sspreading through his chest is unlike anything he’s ever felt before. It’s onlywhen he opens his eyes and moves his hand from his mouth does he see the blood, staining his gloves and the snowand his beautiful petals—Kylo’s beautifulpetals.

There’s pressure on his windpipe and Hux is suddenly desperatelypressing his palms against his neck, begging for air, begging for this to be over, but the pain only worsens when Kylo’sgloved hand cups his far cheek, and Hux screams.

“Ren, make it stop, helpme!” Hux cries, body trembling and throat burning.

He’s so exhausted, but, stars,he’s so close.

One final, bloodied petal falls from Hux’s lips aseverything fades to black.

For the first time in a longtime, Hux wakes up without a petal on his pillow.

He absently supposes that’s because he’s dead, free from the Gingerbell plantthat’s been growing inside of him, consuming his chest, finally having taken his last breath away from him.

But despite the freedom to breathe, Hux has never felt moredistraught.

He may have never hadKylo, but at least he could love him from a far. Now? Hux knows he’s nevergoing to see him again.

As he shifts in the bed, a small whine escapes his lips, anache present throughout his entire body.

“Ssh, Hux, try and be still.”

Hux’s eyes open at the sound of the velvety voice that’shaunted his every moment since they first met, and his body automaticallytenses, expecting his throat to be filled with an invasive petal. But insteadof seeing himself in some form of afterlife, he sees that he’s in a privateroom in the Finalizer’s medical wing,he sees Kylo sitting hesitantly onthe side of his bed.

“Ren?” Hux gasps,trying to process his environment. Kylo looks terrible, his skin pale andblotchy, his face wound stitched and covered in bacta, his eyes just as deepand just as strong as Hux remembers. “Whathappened?”

“You passed out just as we got near the shuttle,” Kylosays, but he frowns, shaking his head slowly. “Hux. You had Hanahaki.”

“I know.”

“And your flower was a Gingerbell.”

“I’m aware, Ren.”

Hux revels in the feeling of being able to breathe properlyfor a moment as silence settles itself between them. He sits up slowly, manoeuvringhis pillows behind him so he’s upright and comfortable, and inhales slowly.Placing his palm flat on his chest, Hux imagines a Gingerbell plant in hismind, whole and bright, free in the wild and not consuming his chest. He’sfree, he’s—free?

Hux opens his eyes sharply, and blinks hard. He gazes atKylo with wide eyes, gasping.

“It’s me, isn’t it?” Kylo asks quietly, sadly. “I’m the one killing you.Smothering you.”

Hux merely averts his eyes to the side, unable andunwilling to answer Kylo’s question verbally.

“You could have died,”Kylo says, gritting his teeth.

“Yes,” Hux says. “And that would’ve been one less burdenfor you.”

“Hux, that’s not—”

“Don’t, Ren. Please,”Hux says, folding his arms across his chest, feeling suddenly protective of it.“I don’t want to hear it. I’ve suffered with Hanahaki for long enough to behurt by your hate. I can’t hear howmuch you despise me too. This is my disease.Not yours.”

“Was.”

Hux frowns. “What?”

“It was yourdisease. It’s…been cured, according to the medics.”

Hux slowly runs his palm up his chest, stopping to feel hisown beating heart, feeling it quicken when Kylo’s hand covers his own, theirfirst actual contact. Hux looks up,seeing Kylo staring at him with teary eyes, and feels a different kind of painin his chest.

“Snoke told me you hated me,” Kylo says, scooting forwards,his hand subconsciously tightening over Hux’s. “I knew when I met you that youwere different. But he kept telling me and telling me how much youwanted me dead so you could take theFirst Order’s glory for yourself. Said I disgusted you, said I should feelnothing but hatred towards you. Stars, Armitage.I was killing you.”

After all the years of nursing his broken soul to keep fighting, Hux feels as though hisentire body has just been put back together at the mere sound of his first name on Kylo’s lips. It’s heaven, being able to breathe in time with the man he’s beensuffocating for, and when Kylo leans in to kiss him, Hux melts, taking air in from Kylo like he’s breaking through thesurface of a dark sea.

But Hux knows he’s never going to drown again.

“Why Gingerbells?”

Hux rests his head on Kylo’s bare chest, listening to thesound of his thrumming heart. Their bodies pressed together, post-orgasm in theirchambers, Kylo’s arm wrapped around Hux tightly, fearing that letting him gowould mean something awful.

“I don’t know,” Kylo responds, running his fingers throughHux’s hair.

“They’re native to Alderaan, I know that much,” Hux replies,eyes glancing over to where a vase of bright Gingerbells sits on the sideboard.

“They grow on other planets too,” Kylo says. “They were oneof my mother’s favourites. My father used to bring her bunches back from histrips.”

“Ah,” Hux hums in response, content with the answer, butKylo chuckles.

“And,” Kylo says, ruffling Hux’s hair. “I like the colour.”

Hux rolls his eyes, but is thankful for his ginger hair for once. His eyes drift closed,content that this is going to be his life from now own. Free and, mostimportantly, with Kylo.

“Hux?”

“Hm?”

“…I love you.”

There’s a silence for a few seconds, but it isn’t heavy orburdened. It’s warm, engulfing them like a protective bubble, keeping all harmaway. Hux takes a long inhale through his nose and out through his mouth, chestfree.

“I know.”

#kylux #i really hope this is okay #like #ive had a rough day but you seemed so excited about this prompt that i had to fill it for you tonight!#❤️#m:writing #tw emetophobia #<-- just to be safe!#Hanahaki disease

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