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sweetestofchaos · 1 year

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Blackthorn Ch 1 | M.YG

Pairing: Crown Prince Dragon!Yoongi x Crown Princess Impundulu!Keena Genre: Soulmate AU | Arranged Marriage AU | Fantasy AU | Fluff Word Count: 6.1K Warnings: None...very soft entry chapter Rating: PG16

Hello Princess - Princess Keena and her envoy enter the Min Empire. There, Prince Yoongi and the Princess meet face to face.

a/n: Shout out to the great @sailoryooons for being my beta/banner maker! Also huge thanks to @nabiolive and @jessikahathaway for yelling at me to keep a special part of this chapter’s ending.

Taglist: @thickemadame

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

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A sherbet colored sky, kissed with endless puffs of white cotton went for as far as the eye could see. Below, the land a mix of forest greens, sandy browns and deep greys were cracked with bottomless shades of blue. The air was crisp; it called to mind the bite of a fresh picked apple on warmer spring days. Light, weightless, disconnected from the turmoil left behind in a land a nation away. A given name, a title that held more power than any amount of gold sat coldly in a chest that heart was beating faster than the wings of a hummingbird. This was for the good of the people, the good of the nations; two different worlds coming together as one.

Beautiful ruby red and white klei eagles flew in a tight formation around a giant cape teal duck, its wings were a glossy muted grey with browner ones on its back. A spot of bright yellow hovered in the air, one single pale yellow eye peered into the modified gama attached securely to the back of the duck. The purple curtains were pinned down to keep the cool air from freezing the occupant tucked away inside. As the sun graced the sky with its warmth and bright light, a demure and soft silhouette was cast against the light fabric. The Citron Crane’s voice sang and echoed across the sky as the Min Empire’s shoreline came into view. Below on the coast, a small envoy of royal guards and emissaries waited with bated breath as the large cape teal, the size of four oxen, descended from the sky and sank into the water. The eagles formed a tighter barrier around the duck as the Citron Crane flew ahead while the duck paddled in the water towards the shoreline.

The crane stood at the water’s edge, its soft yellow wings reflected off the water’s surface before it shifted silently. A large man with rich oakwood skin and yellow topaz eyes, stood before the Min Empire’s envoy. His hair was twisted tightly in neat ropes of thick braids with gold and yellow feathers clipped to a few to show his high position in the Escistan’s royal guard. His robes were vibrant, fiery red and yellow, stitched together by careful hands. A large golden medellin rested in the center of his chest, a hamerkop with a bolt of lightning behind it carved into the metal, the royal sigil of Escistan. The head of the Min Emperor's royal guard stepped forward and hit his chest with a closed fist, a common greeting among soldiers.

“The Min Empire welcomes you with open arms.” The man had fair skin, scares littering his hands and face. His outfit was muted grey, cream, blue and peach while his brown hair was pulled into a topknot. “I am Daehyun. General of the royal guard. I will take you and your company to the palace.”

“I am Aga, second in command of the Escistan army -” Aga crossed his arms over his chest and bowed his head. “-the Princess looks forward to her audience with his Majesty.”

Aga turned his attention to the duck behind him as its webbed feet slapped against the ground. The eagles around the duck shifted and in their place stood six large men dressed in the same armor as Aga without the golden medellin around their necks.

“Bese kò ou.” Aga commanded over his shoulder to the duck.

The cape teal duck settled on the stony beach and four members of Daehyun’s group stepped forward to lower the gama from the duck’s back. Aga held his hand out with his palm facing outward and the small group stopped.

“No need.”

At his words, all heads tilted upward towards the sky and Daehyun was shocked to see a small formation of large brown birds still in the sky. The birds flew towards the ground, openbill storks, and shifted easily into servants all dressed in different shades of tans and yellows. Aga nodded his head and four servants walked over to the cape teal. Aga watched as they easily untied the gama and situated it over their shoulders without the Princess being jostled too much.

“Ale lakay.”

Aga waved his hand towards the sky and the duck flew away with a soft quack that whistled. He reached into the brown pouch on his hip and pulled out a small, smooth, round bead, the size of a walnut and the color of fallen snow. Daehyun watched as Aga threw the bead to the ground and it split in half with a small spark. In its place, between the broken halves a black Vlaamperd horse stood strong and unphased.

“A Charoite bead? I’ve never seen one in person.”

“Many in our lands,” Aga pulled himself onto the horse's back and motioned for his company to do the same. The members in Aga’s party pulled a Charoite bead from around their necks and threw it to the ground. Ten Vlaamperd horses stood in place and waited as their riders jumped onto their backs. Aga fell into Daehyun’s formation with the rest of his own people. He kept his eyes on the Princess’ gama as he passed and took his place at the front of the formation. “Lead the way.”

The journey to the palace was silent, the steady clip clop of horse hooves acted as a cadence. The path to the capital was filled with wide planes of grass, wheat and wildflowers. Farmland stretched on for miles, different crops created a colorful backdrop as the empire came into view. Women and men alike stopped their daily chores as the procession passed by. The outskirts of the capital were well taken care of. The people weren’t dressed in the finest of robes but they weren’t dirty or covered in rags. From his place above the ground, Aga took notice of a large box that many of the younger villagers sat in. It seemed to hold sand from the beach for them to play in.

Horns and drums signaled their arrival as they passed the gates to enter the capital and the townsfolk were lined up on the side of the marketplace, pushing each other to get a better glimpse of the passing procession. A large golden dragon, the sigil of the Min Empire, embroidered on the banners of the procession gained everyone’s attention. Deep blues, vibrant purples and radiant golds dazzled the common folk as a single gamma was carried past by four strongly built men, not from this region of the world. They were outsiders, their dark skin tones a stark difference to the lightly tanned faces shielding them. They were honored guests being led to the palace by the Emperor’s very own royal guards.

Aga rode with a purpose and once he passed through the town, he let himself breathe properly for a moment. Once at the palace gates, the procession came to a smooth halt and Daehyun announced the arrival of their foreign guests. As the gates opened music started to play and the procession continued to march into the palace’s open courtyard.

The stonework was inviting as it led towards the steps of the emperor’s throne room where he sat proud with his wife - the empress - and his only son, the crowned prince by his side in front of him. As drums banged out a traditional greeting as the procession came to a full stop in front of the steps and Aga unmounted from his horse.

The gamma was lowered to the ground and Aga walked over as the curtain was pulled back. From his seat at the front of the throne, the crowned prince, Yoongi, watched as the man held out his hand. A breeze blew through the palace, freshly fallen dogwood petals caught in the current. As a small dark hand, rich and smooth like the brown obsidian gems in the north, poked out from the gamma, Yoongi’s dragon growled low in his chest. Princess Keena emerged from the carrier and the petals seemingly danced around her. Yoongi couldn’t get a good look at the young princess, for her face was covered by a bold orange veil that only showed her warm brown eyes, lined in thick charcoal. She was stunning and Prince Yoongi couldn’t look away.

As the guard led the Princess up the steps, the rest of the procession followed before the head attendant announced the Princess’ arrival at last. Her royal garb was bright, brighter than any sunrise Prince Yoongi remembered seeing. The clothing was different, two main articles, a skirt and blouse joined together by short and long pieces of fabric wrapped at the Princess’ waist while a large strip of woven fabric rested across her left shoulder. A matching headdress sat on the Princess’s head; braided fabric twisted and piled into a crown with the veil attached neatly.

Princess Keena removed her hand from the guard; golden bangles and rings caught the light as she crossed her arms over her chest with her hands on opposite shoulders before she offered an eighty-degree bow, her eyes downcast to the floor. Beside her, the guard dropped to one knee and crossed his arms over his chest as well, lowering his head.

“The nation of Escistan gives thanks to the Min Empire. May the sun grant you many bright days ahead.”

The princess raised to her full height and the guard behind her did the same before he rolled his shoulders. A small group of emissaries came forth, carrying large chests filled with a cornucopia of rare goods from the foreign nation. One by one the chests were opened before the royal family and the Princess looked on with a smile hidden behind her veil as the Emperor's piercing copper eyes shined brightly.

“My father sends well wishes and hope for endless joys in the days to come.” Princess Keena, motioned to the large man beside her, “- Aga, is my father’s testament to our nation's strength. He will teach your army the way of our warriors.”

The Emperor smiled, a single dimple sunk deep into his skin. He clapped his hands, covered in small jade and pearl colored scales, as he looked at the gifts before him, his blood red robes swayed around his wrists.

“Your tributes are as beautiful as they are rare. I hope our alliance with Escistan will only grow stronger during your stay, Princess Keena. The Min Empire welcomes you with open arms!”

Emperor Min stood from his seat, and everyone dropped to a bow while the Princess lowered her head, with her hands clasped in front of her. Emperor Min offered his hand to his wife and helped her stand before he turned his attention to the Princess again with an unknown light in his eyes.

“The Empress has hand selected your attendants; they will help you settle into your chambers at once. We shall hold a banquet in your honor tonight and welcome you once again to the Min Empire!”

The Emperor’s eyes crinkled at the corners as he stared at the princess, and he ran his tongue over the sharp fangs in his mouth.

“Your attendants will be shown to their quarters and will teach your new hands the customs of your nation. Do you have any requests for me?”

“Thank you for thinking of my comfort, your Majesty. I have no requests.”

Satisfied with the Princess’ response, the Emperor exited the throne room with the Empress on his arm. Prince Yoongi stood to his full height and walked down the set of steps before he stopped in front of the Princess. Prince Yoongi kept his face neutral as he offered his arm to the Princess.

“Allow me to show you the way to your chambers, Princess?”

Princess Keena bit her lip to keep from laughing at Yoongi. He was much more serious than she thought he would be. She nodded her head once and placed her hand on the Prince’s forearm, the fabric of his red gangsapo the only thing that kept their skin from touching. The remaining members of court bowed deeply as the Prince and Princess exited the throne room and Aga stayed six steps behind the pair. Hoseok, Prince Yoongi’s personal guard fell in step beside him and the two exchanged a simple nod in greeting.

“Did you have a pleasant time during your travels?” Prince Yoongi stared straight ahead as he spoke and the Princess thought about her trip. It was pleasant enough, no one had been hurt or gotten sick.

“It was a long but safe journey, my Prince.”

Yoongi’s dragon coiled tightly around his heart when his title rolled off the Princess’ tongue. It was a pleasing sound. Yoongi nodded his head and spoke no more as the pair walked down long corridors that turned every which way. Guards, servants and council alike all bowed low as they passed. Some looked at the Princess for longer than was deemed polite and Hoseok kept a running checklist in his mind to report on later.

The Princess took the chance to glance at Yoongi’s profile. He was not what the Princess expected. The words he shared with her in his letters were the rawest form of his soul. He was rose petal soft and fruit with honey sweet but there in front of her, Prince Yoongi had a firm jawline enhanced by patches of black scales. His eyebrows were a dark contrast to his blond hair and the Princess wondered if that was a trait given to everyone or just dragons. What she had imagined to be dark brown irises were the blackest pits of tar that reflected the sun and shined just right behind small triangular eyes. Prince Yoongi was jagged, rough around the edges, but his written words told the Princess of a much softer, warm summer days side to him.

“Here are your personal chambers, Princess.” Yoongi stopped in front of two armed guards. They stepped to the side to show a set of large red oak doors with a blackthorn tree in the center of a beautiful hand carved and painted black dragon. “I hope you find everything to your liking. Please, do not hesitate to ask for anything during your stay.”

“Thank you, your Highness.”

The Prince fought the muscle on his face. He didn’t like that the princess had called him by such a formal title. He stared at the Princess for a moment and she stared back. Her eyes told him everything her words could not. She had changed his title because others were around. Yoongi moved his arm, turnt right side up before he pulled it back and allowed for the Princess’ hand to slide into his. Their palms touched and warmth filled the Princess’ cheeks. The Prince’s hand was hot, liquid heat ran beneath his skin and his nails were long, the tips filed to a blunt point. The Prince hadn’t broken his stare with the Princess and wrapped his fingers lightly around her hand.

“Will you allow me the honor of escorting you to the banquet tonight?”

“It would be my honor, your Highness.”

Yoongi bit his tongue and kept from speaking out while Princess Keena slowly pulled her hand from his. Her own nails lightly scratched Prince Yoongi’s palm and the Prince nodded his head as he took a step back, a shiver crawling up his arm and down his spine.

“Would you allow me to send a small welcome gift?”

“It would honor me, so.”

Prince Yoongi bowed his head and Princess Keena repeated the motion.

“Rest well, Princess.”

The Prince walked away with Hoseok right behind him while Aga grabbed the Princess’ attention. He looked at the doors and Princess Keena nodded her head, “Ou mèt tcheke, Aga.”

The guards pushed open the doors and the servants inside all rushed to stand in a single file line as they heard the doors open. Aga walked into the room first and the Princess stepped inside after. She watched as Aga searched the room for any hidden dangers while the women cowered away from his stoic face. Aga nodded to the Princess and placed a hand over his heart before he bowed his head.

"Mwen pral-" Aga started to complain, and Princess Keena shook her head.

"Ou pral tcheke chanm ou yo epi tounen yon fwa ou fin etabli, Aga." Princess Keena smiled as she motioned towards the women in the room and Aga sighed knowing that the Princess was right, she was in good hands. "Mwen nan bon men. Montre fanm sa yo respè yo merite.”

Aga pressed his mouth into a firm line at the Princess’ words and turned towards the four women in the room who were all equally confused by their shared words. Aga bowed quickly and left the room. Once the door shut behind Aga, Princess Keena turned towards the women and bowed her head.

“I am Princess Keena, daughter of King Baasi and Queen Tiali. Please lend me your hands and forgive me for I do not yet fully speak your mother tongue.”

The four women all bowed deeply and smiled softly at the Princess. Her dress was something they had never seen before, and it was beautiful. However, it was not something that the Princess could wear to the banquet tonight. The tallest of the four women stepped forward and introduced herself as Kim Yongsun and the others were Byulyi, Wheein and Hyejin. Yongsun explained to the Princess as she spoke slowly that they were to bathe and dress her for the banquet that night as well as give her a small lesson on their etiquette.

“I would like to learn your etiquette first. My attendants will be with us shortly to help with my undress.”

“As you wish, Princess.”

Yongsun led the Princess to a table that sat low to the floor where Hyejin sat with a small smile on her face. As the Princess sat and started her lesson with Hyejin, the other women bustled around the room as they put away the Princess’ possession. A knock at the door grabbed Byulyi’s attention and she rushed to the door. She opened the door and bowed a quarter of the way as she stepped back to allow Princess Keena’s servant to enter the room.

Izaso, Keena’s head servant crossed her arms over her chest and bowed her head. The four other women did the same as Princess Keena stood to her feet. “Nou la pou ede. Ki kote ou ta renmen nou Princess?” Izaso questioned as she looked around the room.

“Izaso, sa yo se medam yo ki pral okipe bezwen mwen isit la nan palè a. Tanpri montre yo etap dezabiye mwen pou aswè a.” Princess Keena explained to Izaso and the other servants that they had to work together to get her ready for the banquet tonight.

Princess Keena watched as Yongsun lined her women up and Izaso did the same. Yongsun started the introductions and Izaso allowed for the servants under her to speak first. Alinafe, Fatsani, Limbani, and Chimika introduced themselves in broken Laibic and the Princess was proud. She had spent a few days prior to leaving her nation teaching her servant how to say simple Laibic phrases so that they could ask for help if they needed any.

As the women spoke, the Princess acted as the translator and together the nine women started the long process of readying the Princess for the upcoming banquet. When the Princess’ crown was removed, Wheein was surprised to see that the hair wasn’t straight like her own. Princess’ Keena had hair that reached down towards the floor and stopped at the small of her lower back. Her hair was darker than any ink within the palace and it smelled of the sweetest fruits and flowers. It was twisted into tight braids only a blueberry in diameter with golden metal wire wrapped around different braids. Small golden jewelry with different gemstones were also attached to the braids.

The shock on Wheein’s face wasn’t hidden fast enough and Chimika laughed before she showed the young woman how to carefully wrap the Princess’ hair so that it wouldn’t get wet while bathing. Once Princess Keena’s hair was piled on top of her head and wrapped messily in a headscarf, it was Fatsani and Hyejin’s turn to bathe the Princess. The private washroom was huge, smooth stones covered the floor and dipped down into a wide open pool of water. Rocks of different sizes lined the wall that blocked the inside from anyone who would have tried to look in. It was beautiful and the Princess felt excited at the thought of bathing.

Hyejin reaches out to untie one of the wraps on the Princess’s waist and Fatsani was quick to stop her. Hyejin looked confused and Princess Keena smiled softly, she knew what Fatsani was afraid of. The Princess cleared her throat and focused solely on Hyejin as she spoke.

“Do you know of the Impundulu, Hyejin? It is known as the lighten bird in my nation. The Impundulu has ruled Escistan since the first rainfall.” Princess Keena motioned for Fatsani to remove her iborun and pele. “The mark of the Impundulu is a sign of royal blood. Every blood born Impundulu has these marks somewhere on their body.” Princess Keena thought over the words that would best explain her feelings and she cleared her throat.

“The mark of the Impundulu isn’t always pleasant to look at but it is a mark I wear with pride…I hope that these marks do not frighten you.”

Once the Princess was finished talking, Fatsani allowed for Hyejin to help with the undress and made sure that Hyejin stayed in front of the Princess at all times. Hyejin folded the clothing and placed them on a wooden cart to keep from getting wet and when she turned back around, she covered her mouth, her startled gasp muffled. Princess Keena was faced away from Hyejin, her back fully exposed. Hyejin could see dark scarring that resembled ice crystals in the shape of wings. It was a beautiful and terrifying sight, the scars weren’t raised, they were placed directly along the slope of the Princess’s back. Hyejin thought back to what she had been told about the Impundulu and all that came to mind were Hamerkop's wings.

Hyejin made no comments on the Princess’s scars and Fatsani offered the Princess a hand to help her into the waters. When Princess Keena stepped into the water, she was surprised to find that the rocks on the bottom were heated which kept the water warm.

“Fire stones, Princess.” Hyejin had explained when she saw the Princess pause in her steps. “There are many magic stones and gems in the palace that make life more practical.”

Fatsani and Hyejin showed each other their methods to cleaning and Princess Keena enjoyed the extra attention. She had been worried that Hyejin would no longer want to be her attendant, but Hyejin showed no sign of leaving.

The journey to the Min Empire was long and the air quality wasn’t always the best. The Princess felt dirty enough that the extra fussing didn’t bother her. Once out of the bathing waters, Princess Keena was quickly patted dry before Fatsani helped her into a thin cream and gold dressing robe. In the main room, Byulyi and Alinafe discussed the best way to style the Princess’ hair for the banquet. Alinafe wanted to do a traditional style from the Escistan kingdom while Byulyi thought it best to do a hairstyle in favor of the Min Empire. Limbani was smart enough to suggest that they mix the two styles and when there was a knock at the door, Yongsun was quick to rush and answer it.

Hidden behind the white Hanji partition with golden leaves painted along the border, Princess Keena stood nude while Limbani massaged citrus and sweet scented oils to her skin before the Princess slipped her robe back on. While hidden, a male servant entered the room with a large box in his hands. He set the beautiful, decorated chest on the ottoman by the bed and left with a small bow of his head. Yongsun clapped her hands and called for the Princess.

“His Imperial Highness has sent you a gift, Princess.”

Princess Keena couldn’t stop the smile that danced on her lips. She stepped from behind the partition and walked over towards the large platform bed. The chest in front of her was no bigger than a large shoe box and it was decorated in gold paint and jade gems.

“What do you think it is, Princess?” Izaso wondered out loud and the Princess had no clue. She thought back to the letters exchanged with Yoongi and one thing came to mind.

As careful as she could, the Princess opened the chest and everyone’s eyes widened at the items inside. A delicate pair of matching golden hair pins sat on top, a cluster of blackthorn flowers replicated by mother of pearls, yellow apetites and jades shone in the soft sunlight that came into the room. Underneath the hair pins a pouch rested neatly. Princess Keena picked it up and was shocked by the craftsmanship. The pouch itself was light weight, a little larger than the size of her fist. Its body was round with a squared neck that would be cinched by black silk strings. The purse was a soft lilac with a black dragon embroidered into the center, around the bottom of the bag golden flower petals lay while the dragon rested beneath a large blackthorn tree.

Princess Keena traced over the blackthorn tree and smiled. How many times had she spoken of her favorite flowers? The Prince remembered and that made the Princess’ heart flutter in her chest. Attached to the pouch was a gold tassel that had a large white moonstone encased in a beautiful cross stitch. When the Princess looked at it more, she saw that the moonstone opened and inside was hollowed out and stored two rings with thin gold bands and three white scolecite gems on each. “What is the name of this?” Princess Kenna asked and Byulyi answered that the pouch was called a Duru-Jumeoni and the tassel was called a Norigae.

Princess Keena set the Duru-Jumeoni aside and laughed, the chime like bells loud and clear as she stared down at the Min dynasty inspired Dashiki. Prince Yoongi had asked many questions about the type of clothing the Princess wore, and she had sent him a few pieces to see for himself in person. A Boubou in black and gold, colors that the Prince had stated he liked and a Kente, in red, black and gold to contrast the Boubou if he were to ever wear the two together. The Dashiki was lilac, white and a darker purple with gold and black beading embroidered along the rounded neckline and colorful patchwork on the arms and bottom. Princess Keena was impressed, the Prince had taken notes and put them to use.

“Do you like it, Princess?” Yongsun had asked and Princess Keena touched the garment lightly, the smile still on her face.

“These are very thoughtful. I’ll be sure to thank his Highness at the banquet.”

“Would you like to wear the hair pins tonight?”

“Oh! They would look wonderful with your hanbok!” Byulyi gushed and the women all nodded their heads in agreement.

Princess Keena allowed for the women to use her new hair accessories and she sat before the mirror while Byuyl and Alinafe applied mint and argan oil to the Princess’ scalp and hair before they started to style it together. Izaso and Yongsun took their time as they applied lip tint, eye liner and rouge to the Princess’ face.

“Èske rad yo pare?” Izaso looked away from the Princess’ face towards where the other women were smoothing out a lilac colored hanbok that had many more pieces than the Escistan Iro ati Buba that the Princess wore earlier. Wheein giggled as she grabbed the matching socks and shoes. Everything was ready; they just needed the Princess's body.

Fatsani spoke up and answered Izaso’s question that everything was ready. Satisfied with Princess Keena’s hair, Izaso and Yongsun each placed a hair pin neatly in place before they led the Princess over to the bed and stepped back to allow for Fatsani and Hyejin to handle the dressing. Princess Keena removed her dressing gown and followed the simple instructions that Hyejin gave while Fatsani assisted with the unknown garments. The Princess counted in her head each item that was placed onto her body, and she was surprised that seven items didn’t feel heavy at all. Her range of motion was still flexible and when Izaso placed her dressing gown back on, the Princess sighed.

“There are five more pieces that need to be worn,” Wheein had explained. “However, we will get back to your etiquette lessons until it’s time for the banquet.”

Once again, at the desk with Hyejin, Princess Keena started her lessons while the rest of the women tidied up the room. Limbani came over the small desk and suggested that the Princess take a break and enjoy some refreshments that were brought in. Princess Keena agreed and Lambani carried a tray of small sweets over.

“What you have in front of you is Yakgwa, a honey pastry -” Byulyi pointed to the deep fried treat. “- Bukkumi, a rice cake dumpling with sweet red beans -” Byulyi again pointed to another treat that was shaped like white half moons with colorful edible flowers on them “- and lastly, we have Dasik, a tea cookie!” Byulyi beamed, as she offered the plate of small colorful cookies to the Princess.

“These all look wonderful. Thank you for sharing them with me.” Princess Keean tried the Bukkumi first, and she enjoyed the soft and chewy texture. While she ate and practiced her etiquette, Princess Keena offered the treats to the women, and they all agreed that it was best to partake so that the Princess could show what she learned.

Once the treats were eaten, Yongsun called for someone to take the empty trays away and Princess Keena started to get restless. The sun hadn’t set much, it was just past midday which meant there was still a lot of time that needed to pass before the banquet.

“Would you like to rest before the banquet?” Yongsun offered and Izaso had started to protest when Yongsun motioned towards the bed.

“May I step outside for some air?” Princess Keena requested and Yongsun looked towards the door.

“I will ask for a guard to guide you.”

Yongsun stepped out of the room and Wheein jumped to her feet. “If you are going out, we need to finish getting you dressed, Princess.”

Princess Keena nodded her head and watched as Wheein and Hyejin rushed about the room, a different hanbok in their arms.

“So that your hanbok for the banquet doesn’t get dirty during your walk, Princess.” Byulyi explained as she grabbed matching socks and shoes.

"Izaso, Alinafe, Fatsani, Limbani, ak Chimika, yo ranvwaye ou. Tanpri repoze byen epi jwi aswè a."

Princess Keena’s servants crossed their arms over their chest and bowed their heads before they took their leave and soon after Yongsun came back into the room while the other women were dressing the Princess.

“Minho has been tasked with escorting you, Princess. Your guard Aga is outside as well.”

“Thank you, Yongsun.” Princess Keena smiled brightly and held onto Hyejin and Wheein while Byulyi helped her into her footwear. The hanbok that the Princess wore was cream colored with light and dark shades of pink throughout that tied everything together. Princess Keena waited while Yongsun opened the door and Aga stood tall in a fresh new uniform that matched the guard beside him. "Koulè yo kostim ou, Aga."

Aga smoothed down his new uniform and grunted before he offered Princess Keena his arm while the guard beside him bowed deeply. “I am Choi Minho and it would be my honor to lead you through our gardens, Princess.”

Minho was charming, he had a strong face and eyes that were very expressive. He was older than Aga and that made the Princess trust him more. Princess Kenna bowed her head as she placed her hand on Aga’s arm.

“I leave myself in your care, Minho.”

Minho led the way through the palace with the Princess, Aga, Wheein and Hyejin in tow, Servants and guards alike all stopped and bowed when the Princess passed by. She kept her head held high and once outside in the fresh air; Princess Keena inhaled the flora scents around her. Many scents she had not smelled before and it was all a little overwhelming. Wheein stepped away to grab another round of refreshments for the Princess while she enjoyed her time outside. Minho led the Princess to a small gazebo that was on the edge of what looked to be a cherry blossom garden. Each breeze lifted fallen petals into the air and Princess Keena watched with sparkling eyes as the petals waltzed around her. Princess Keena sat on the pale green bench and stared out at the cherry blossom trees, as a million different thoughts swirled in her mind.

“Princess, would you care for some tea?” Hyejin offered as Wheein stepped into the gazebo.

Princess Keena nodded her head in thanks and waited silently as a cup of tea was poured for only herself.

“Minho?”

“Yes, Princess?” Minho turned to face the Princess and watched her with wide eyes.

“How many gardens are on the grounds?”

Minho thought for a moment, of course he knew the answer, but he had to check with himself to make sure. “Six gardens, Princess. I have been told that a seventh garden is in the process of being added.”

“This is a beautiful place. It’s peaceful and offers a sense of comfort.”

“Her Majesty is very fond of cherry blossoms.”

Princess Keena turned her face upward, reached out a hand and a cherry blossom petal fell into her palm. Aga watched with a fond hint of some memory in his eyes as the Princess closed her hand into a fist and pulled her hand to her chest. She whispered a quiet wish to the petal and opened her palm with a soft smile on her face. The breeze blew; up, up and away the petal went as it carried the Princess’ unknown wish.

The petal was carried on the wind, lightly and surely as it soon found home on the shoulder of Prince Yoongi. He sat by his window, the sunlight warmed him from the outside in, with his eyes closed. When the petal landed on his shoulder, Yoongi’s eyes opened slowly, and he glanced at his shoulder. The petal stood out, small, pink and fragile against his blood red robes and he carefully plucked it between his fingers.

Prince Yoongi stared at the petal silently and turned his attention back to the sun outside. He sighed and reached his hand out the window, before he parted his fingers and let the petal continue its journey. He watched the petal as it flew alone, and he frowned to himself unsure why he felt a sudden rush of longing.

“Hoseok!” Prince Yoongi called out and shortly after, Hoseok appeared beside him right outside of his window. “Where is the Princess?”

“Princess Keena is in the cherry blossom garden.”

Yoongi blinked slowly at the information and stood from his seat. “Let’s go.”

“Wait! Your hair!” Hoseok grabbed the sleeve of Prince Yoongi’s gangsapo and climbed through the window. “Her Majesty will have my head if I let you walk around with your hair like this.” Hoseok pushed the Prince towards his vanity and quickly fixed his topknot before he deemed the Prince good enough to be seen outside of his chambers.

Together, Prince Yoongi and Hoseok left the bed chambers and made their way to the cherry blossom garden. In the distance Prince Yoongi saw the Princess under the gazebo as she chatted away. Prince Yoongi fought the smile that tugged at his lips and the moment Minho saw him, the older man cleared his throat and bowed deeply. Princess Keena looked in the direction of which Minho was bowing, and she rose to her feet while the others around her bowed.

Prince Yoongi stood before the Princess and she gave him a pleasant bow before she greeted him with that charmed smile of hers. The Prince stared at the Princess and bowed slightly, “Hello, Princess.”

#soc yoongi #blackthorn ch 1 #dragon!yoongi #bts fantasy au #bts royal au #bts yoongi

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descendantofthesparrow · 3 years

Text

Interlude - Rewrite POYW - Part 5 - Future vision and new VKs

-two days later(August 2016)-

Uma perked up from the small sea glass bead bracelet she was working on, a smirk growing on her face as you appeared from the brush of the forest and walked toward her, a black bag in your right hand full of food. “Took you long enough, I even started working on this!” Uma held up the unfinished bracelet and set it to her side, making grabby hands at your bag as you stepped closer to her “Gimmie, I know you brought pineapple wedges.”

You laughed a bit and held out the bag to her, taking the bag off your back and taking out a towel and laying it down on the sand before sitting next to Uma “I brought your pineapple wedges” which Uma was already getting into “Some mac and cheese that Gil made, chicken breast, cornbread, and some packs of apple juice. bone app a teeth” Uma gave you a look at your last couple of words but shook her head at your grin.

“Weirdo” she mumbled, pulling out the containers filled with chicken and a fork, popping open the lip, and chowing down “Damn, who made the chicken?”

“Someone in the kitchen” you chuckled, picking up the box of cornbread and grabbing one to eat “Harry, Gil, and I didn’t feel like eating in the cafeteria last night so we took some of the food from the kitchen that the students have access to that was in the ‘take whatever you want’ fridge that the chefs load up with so much shit, and Gil made the mac and cheese like a day ago, everything is pretty fresh” Uma shoveled some of the mac and cheese into her mouth and groaned, her eyes fluttering.

“Fuck that’s good, even on the isle Gil was a good chef, he needs to cook more” you laughed at that, grabbing a box of apple juice and stabbing it into the top.

“He does, he makes bomb cookies too.” Uma perked up at that, giving you a look that said ‘bring me the cookies or I drown you’ “Hey! Don’t give me that look! Next time he makes cookies I’ll bring ‘em, okay??” Uma continued to stare at you with that look before nodding, satisfied with your answer.

“So?” Uma swallowed her food and dug out an apple juice box from your back, pointing at you with it in her hand “Updates, what happened with the new vks? I saw the limo go in and out two days ago.”

“Complete success, we got Harriet, CJ, Sammy Smee, Skipper and Sterling, and Dizzy all off the isle, and they’re all at the dorms now, Harriet’s gonna be transferred to the college next quarter and school starts next-next week” Uma nodded at your explanation, twirling the fork in her hands. “Your hair looks really good by the way” Uma looked at you, a soft smile on her face.

She had undone her braids about a week ago, to let the ocean water properly flow through the strands, and now rested against her back and shoulders in thick curls. “Thank you” she hummed, picking at her cornbread “I've been trying to get the…shrimp smell out”

You furrowed your brows and reached up, stopping yourself a few inches from her hair “May I touch your hair?” Uma glanced at you, slightly surprised you had asked, and nodded. Tilting her head a bit as you gently tugged on a lock of her hair. “it’s really soft, and personally I don’t smell anything bad, especially not shrimp, more…the ocean and coconut” Uma laughed a bit as you released her hair and set your hand back on your knee.

“I've been using coconut to take care of my hair…good to know it's working” you smiled to yourself as a soft grin grew on Uma’s face, one of her hands reaching up and curling a lock around her finger.

“Yeah… Evie's business is picking up” Uma raised her brow, as if saying ‘nice subject change, and I care why?’ “Well” you laughed, pushing Uma’s shoulder a bit as she rolled her eyes “hold up a moment im getting to the good part, but her business is picking up and Harry works for her as a model” Uma’s brows raised at that, “Told you, anyway he works for her as a model and with her business picking up, he models for her more often and she's paying him for it, soooo Harry’s getting fucking moneys~”

Uma hummed and picked at her chicken slice “Really? How much?” you grinned, making Uma sit up and grab at your shoulders “Okay how fucking much is Harry making from modeling; because that grin tells me he’s already rich.”

“He very well might be in a year or two” you laughed, gently removing her hands from your shoulders and readjusting your sitting position. “somewhere between 30 and a thousand per paycheck” Uma gave you a blank stare for a few moments before she rolled her eyes.

“Okay don’t tell me then, sheesh” you fell back as you laughed, Uma twisting around and sitting cross-legged, picking up another apple juice box and sipping at it.

“I’m sorry I’m sorry, um, Harry and Evie said it should increase as her business grows n stuff, but right now he’s making about eight hundred a paycheck.” Uma turned to you with wide eyes, mouth dropping open slightly in shock.

“whaaat?!” she screeched, dropping the now empty apple juice box into the sand “Eight-hundred?! That’s more-that’s more than I've made in a month at my ma’s shop!!” you laughed a bit, nodding your head as Uma continued to stare at you bewildered.

“Yeah, he’s already put a lot of it into a savings account, something about getting an apartment for us in the future with room for the Smee boys and his sisters if they ever needed a place to stay, but that won't be for another year or two since you have to be 18 to rent an apartment without parental permission.” Uma smiled a bit, Harry was one to think of the future, even on the isle. He would stash away rubies and gold coins in a savings stash under a floorboard in his old apartment for when they got off the isle.

“That sounds nice, make sure he gets one with a pool for me yeah?” you laughed again, shaking your head a bit as you and Uma side fist-bumped.

“I’ll make sure of that yeah” you took out your phone and sighed, standing from the beach and wiping the sand from your pants “I got to go, Ben wanted me for a meeting at 1, I'll get the bag when I come back tomorrow, see you!” Uma accepted the crouch side hug from you and waved you off, casting a spell to keep water off and out of the containers of food and the bag as she packed it up and dove into the sea, swimming back out to her mother's old hideout.

She slowed to a stop in front of the main opening, stepping through the air bubble she had made a while back and snapping her fingers, the water disappearing off her body by magic. “There we go” she mumbled, swinging the backpack off her shoulder and walking over to the “kitchen” area of the old hideout. She stashed away the food into the “fridge” aka old spell and potion cabinet that she had cast a cold holding spell onto to turn it into a makeshift fridge.

With a wave of her hand, her clothes transformed from a tank top and calf cut cargo pants to a long-sleeved red shirt with a hook stitched to the chest and black leggings. She stretched her arms behind her back and groaned as her back pop slightly.

Uma sighed and looked around the hideout, eyes landing on the claw-shaped cauldron in the middle of the room. it was odd, being in her mother's famous lair, but…also comforting, in a strange way.

She couldn't explain it, but…she felt safe. Probably because the only people that came around here were teens or kids on a dare and were easily scared off. So Uma was pretty much alone in the deep of the ocean.

Uma walked over to the little corner she had turned into her bedroom and sat on her bed, picking up the orange blanket you had given her cotillion night and curling it around her, staring off into space as she thought about…well everything.

From the new vks, the transfer plan, her boys, you, the isle, the vks still on the isle…the future was so unknown, what she would give for just a glimpse, just so she wasn’t so scared for it.

wait

Uma’s eyes widened, drifting between the clawed cauldron and a small set of books that were hidden behind her mother's vanity.

She could see into the future!

Uma lept off her bed and towards the books, pulling them out until she found one with the symbol of twisting water and tentacles appeared in her hands “there you are” she whispered, she had gone through these books when she found the lair and in them, she found hundreds of spells and potion instructions ranging from simple hair or visualization spells to transfiguration and curses.

“Future vision, future vision, future-ah!” Uma landed on the page she needed and stood, walking over to the cauldron and conjuring a stand for her to set the book on. She set it down and read the instructions, it seemed she would need to both make a potion and use an incantation.

“Okay, I got this” she let out a breath, rubbing her hands together as she spun around and walked over to her mother's old ingredient cabinet.

The tail of a sea worm, the clenched fist of a long-dead merman, the head of a fish, wings of a dust fairy pixie, and the eye of a seer. She carried the items over to the cauldron, casting a levitating spell to keep them next to her as she reviewed the spell.

“Okay, okay I got this” she took another breath, opening the caldron and tossing the ingredients in, leaning back a bit as smoke and vapor released from the cauldron. “Oof, okay”

Uma took one last look at the book, muttering the incantation to herself as she held the eye of a seer above the cauldron.

Finally, as she dropped the eye into the brew, and she clutched her necklace as the incantation echoed around her.

“Though winters past and summers morn, the future will be shown/the sight clear and sounds echo, I see into a world unknown”

Uma leaned back a bit as golden shimmering dust rose from the cauldron, slowly forming into a shape…of the isle. “The isle?” Uma mumbled, leaning closer to the image, squinting as she watched the golden magic bridge build and a limo enter the isle, the main bridge part looked very different than the rundown broken castle-like area she was used to, it looked to be rebuilt with signs on the front. “They’re getting more kids, when is this?”

The isle disappeared and was replaced with the image of a golden calendar, showing the present date then suddenly the pages were torn off at a rapid pace, Uma desperately trying to keep up with the passing dates before it stopped.

Uma blinked and looked closer, her brows furrowing as she looked at the circled date. “August 2nd…2019?!” Uma took a step back, her hands clenching at her side, three years? The vision she had seen before was in almost three years? But…it could possibly be one of many pick-ups? “How many vks have been picked up between the six from two days ago and the vks from the vision just before” Uma hoped the spell worked like this, she was in for shit if it didn’t.

Thankfully, that’s how the spell seemed to work, the image of the calendar disappeared and the sand like magic stayed dormant, shifting within the caldron…it seemed the spell didn’t know how to answer that question “Maybe I need to make it clearer?” Uma hummed, tapping her fingers against the rim of the cauldron before it came it her “How long will it be between the six vks two days ago and the next transfer of vks.”

The calendar appeared again, now first showing the date of two days ago, and then ripping off the pages rapidly “Oh no.” Uma muttered, sinking down to her knees slightly as the calendar stopped at August 2nd 2019 again. “two and a half years? Seriously?! What the fuck?!” Uma growled and knocked over the stand that held the spellbook and whirled back around at the cauldron “Why does it take so long!?”

The calendar disappeared again and was replaced with a long table with about twelve people sitting around it, and she could recognize King Ben sitting at the end, his head held in his hands as the others all held a hand up, glowering at the young king. “His council?” Uma murmured, looking at the faces of the people to see if she recognized anybody, only able to pick out Aurora mother, who had her hand up, and ex-king Luis, Cinderella’s father-in-law, who had his hand down, seeming to be on Ben’s side of whatever they were debating.

“What did they vote for?” Uma asked, biting her lip as the council disappeared and a paper took its place, the top reading ‘Application for juvenile Reunification’. Uma furrowed her brows, confused for a moment before she kept reading, rage bubbling in her gut as she did. “They have to fucking apply??! Just to get the freedom they deserve?! Do they agree to this?!”

The application disappeared and was replaced with the moving image of Ben and (y/n), Harry glaring at the king just behind (y/n). (y/n) was yelling, so was Ben, both motioning to the paper in (y/n)s hand. “That must be the application thing or whatever” Uma muttered, smirking as (y/n) crumbling it in her fist and shook it in Ben’s face.

Ben seemed to nod and point at it, and Uma leaned in reading his lips ‘that’s what I want to do (y/n), but I can’t! When they overrule me, I can't do anything about it! I’m sorry, but if we don’t go by their rules then we don’t get kids off the isle im sorry!’

(y/n) shook her fist in his face again and turned, walking towards Harry and burying her face in his chest, he wrapped his arms around her and glared at Ben, Uma leaning in again to read their lips. Ben spoke first ‘I am sorry, I’ll try to get everything ready as soon as possible, but some of it is going to take almost two years, maybe almost three! Especially the shelter and cps agency, and the council required those to be done before we can even send out the applications’ Harry stared at Ben for a moment before looking down at (y/n) and pulling her tighter into him.

‘Get it done beasty boy’ Harry seemed to growl, his lip set in a slight snarl ‘and quick, if this takes longer than yeh say, you’ll be hanging from the mast’ Ben nodded, turning back to his desk and picking up a thick folder.

‘I'll hold you to that’ Ben said back, about to say something else but the image disappeared before Uma’s eyes before he could finish.

“Dammit,” Uma muttered, rubbing her with her palms as she grit her teeth. It was the same reason they had taken so long after Ben had promised to get her off the isle after the coronation, the council kept pushing back everything, so stuck in their old ways of thought that they just couldn’t bear to have more vks in Auradon.

“Bastards” Uma growled, standing from the floor and looking back in the cauldron, it seemed the spell had finished, and she wouldn’t be able to ask any more questions about the future. “Ben, (y/n), I hope to Hades you don’t fuck this up for those kids”

Celia couldn’t help but keep her eyes locked on the spot where the Auradon limo had been parked only two days ago, the spot where Dizzy had left her on the isle.

Dizzy had promised to get her off next, whispering it in Celia’s ear as Dizzy hugged her tightly just before she left. Dizzy was hardly one to break a promise, even in a place where promises were never kept, so Celia trusted her.

She just hoped that trust wouldn’t be proved wrong.

Celia sighed, looked at her watch, and realized she had to go pick up some stuff for Hades before her usual fortune-telling shift in front of the arcade.

She quickly traveled to the market and snatched up some cans of corn, cans of refried beans, and a large loaf of bread, that was only a day past its baking date. Celia took another loaf for herself and her dad, suppressing the smile she had as she walked towards the mines.

it was nice having actual food to eat, Celia no longer went hungry every other night and no longer needed to scrounge for money to get the food that was being kept on the market thanks to Harriet's crew that was making sure the merchants weren’t keeping the food away from everybody due to selling it at a high price as they usually did for the better food as they did before the program.

“Celia~” A velvety voice cooed behind her, and Celia turned, raising her brow as she spotted Ginny Gothel, Mother Gothel’s daughter. Ginny Gothel was a flirt, a heavy-set young woman who dared to blow a kiss to Harriet and survive. her dark curly hair was in a short bob that showed the shaved part of her neck. her face, which was always either set in a glare or a flirtatious smirk, was painted with dark makeup. she collected crystals and rings to adorn herself, black and dark red fabrics flowed around her body when she strut down the market place with pride. she was a part of the older villain kids, so respect came with her presence.

“Celia darling~” Ginny cooed; Celia just slowly nodded to show she was listening “do you think you can ask Dizzy if she's got an opening? I need a touch up” Ginny's hand reached up and brushed against the back of her neck where her hair was beginning to overgrow where it was supposed to be. Celia huffed, fixing her grip on her supplies for hades.

“First, I ain't in charge of her and you can go find out yourself I ain't your errand rant, second, Dizzy left two days ago” Ginny's eyes went wide at that “She's in Auradon now, with all those prissy people, so tough luck, eh?” Ginny groaned and leaned heavily back against the wall she was next to, throwing her arm over her eyes.

“Noooo how am I ever going to get my hair cut now?! Dizzy was the only one to understand exactly what I needed!...” her arm dropped to her side as she pouted, looking back at Celia who just stared at her with bored eyes “Well I could go to the hearts salon but I do not trust that mad queen with those sheers”

“Suck it up and get it cut you weenie” Celia snarked, smirking as Ginny scoffed at her and walked off, presumably to the queen of hearts salon.

Celia shrugged Ginny's dramatic attitude off and made her way to the mines.

Ginny sighed dramatically, rubbing her hands against the back of her neck again, she really did need a touch-up. But Dizzy was in Auradon and she was the only hair person Ginny trusted with her hair. The last time she went to the hearts salon she ended up with the wrong cut and length.

But then again. Ginny stopped in the middle of the street, hands on her hips as she pouted at the floor, she really-really needed a touch-up on her undercut.

Fuck it, if it got fucked up, she’d fix it herself.

She twisted on her heel and walked over to the side of the isle that housed the red-hearts salon. She pushed the main door open and crossed her arms, her dark amber eyes scanning the customers and workers.

“Ey darling, you here for a cut or a dye?” Ginny turned, smirking as she locked eyes with one of her closest cohorts on the isle, Colin Hearts. The only other person she trusted with her hair, she had hoped they were working today, and lucky for her they were.

Colin was a lanky teen, their heels making them seem taller than they really were. they always seemed to wear flowing shirts and tight pants, and wore five-inch heels more often than not. Their natural dark red hair had been cut into a fluffy bright red Mohawk and their brown eyes were hidden behind purple contact lenses. Their teasing lips were always painted with black lipstick, and their nails sharp and red.

Ginny walked to her “friend” and they shared a quick handshake they had made when both of them were young. “Yeah, due for a buzz on my undercut, think you can do that for me, hun?” Colin looked up at the ceiling, their painted lips in a false thinking pout “Colin.” Colin smirked at Ginny's low tone and nodded.

“Yeah, I can do that for you, come on~ you know my station~” Ginny gave tight-lipped smile to Colin and strut over to the scarlet red chair with painted white hearts that Colin had decked out a while ago to claim it as their station.

Ginny sat down and crossed her legs, examining her black nails as Colin settled behind her. “So just a touch up, eh?” Colin murmured aloud, Ginny nodded in confirmation, leaning her head back to peer at Colin.

“Don’t fuck it up or I take those red lace pumps you treasure so much” Ginny grinned as Colin gasped at that and pushed their hand to their chest at her threat.

“How dare you~!” the two shared a nasty grin and Colin reached for their electric clippers, throwing the hair catcher towel around Ginny's neck and turning the clippers on. “So did you hear that Harriet ‘n her sister left to Auradon two days ago?” Ginny gasped at that “Really?” Colin leaned into Ginny's line of sight “You’re obsessed with that girl; I’m surprised you didn’t sense the moment she left the barrier” Colin chuckled at Ginny's glare and went back to her hair.

“Dizzy’s left too” Ginny sighed, twitching as Colin let out a small laugh.

“I know, if she wasn’t you wouldn’t be here” Colin lifted up the back of Ginny's hair and started to buzz her undercut, going quiet as they focused on not cutting more than Ginny wanted.

“Smee’s boys left too, all three of ‘em” Colin muttered, shaving the design into Ginny’s undercut “Six more vks off the isle, wonder if any more will follow” Ginny hummed at that, watching Colin in the mirror as they worked at her hair. That was a question, would there be more vks to follow the six that left two days ago?… Ginny hoped so, she would love to get off the isle and away from her mother.

“Think they’ll pick any of us if it continues?” Ginny asked, leaning on her hand as Colin tilted her head. Colin shrugged after a moment.

“Dunno, maybe not us, but-” they nodded their head to the right, Ginny's eyes following to see Diego De’vil sitting in the salon chair reading a book as one of Colin’s coworkers finished on cutting his hair “-Diego maybe, considering he and Carlos are cousins there might be more of a reason” Diego looked over at them, raising his brow “Ey im not talking negative, just possibilities” he sighed and went back to his book, rolling his shoulders a bit.

Diego was a strapping young man, the older cousin of Carlos and the lead singer and guitarist of the Bad Apples. when he was younger, he would sneer at those who would either compare his looks to his much smaller at the time cousin or accidentally call him Carlos. nowadays he took a bit more pride in being Carlos’ cousin. his hair was cut into a short-brushed back Mohawk that transitioned from black at the roots to white at the edges, similar to Carlos’ hair. he wore red and black most of the time, decorated with spikes and pins with hard combat boots and patched-up jeans. his fingers were calloused from years of guitar picking and freckles decorated his face and shoulders.

Colin's coworker finished up refining his mohawk and took the towel from his shoulders, Diego stood and placed a handful of silver coins into the worker's hands. They nodded and walked to the register as Diego examined himself in the mirror “so De’vil?” He turned to look at Colin, who was brushing off the buzzed hair from Ginny's shoulders “Do ya think your cousin will get you off of here or nah?” Diego stared at them for a moment then shrugged.

“Dunno” he grumbled, grabbing his jacket from the counter and slipping it on “Not up to me, but I’ll do anything to get away from my maniac of an aunt, she keeps mistaking me for Carlos” Ginny and Colin winced at that, remembering the old days when the once runt-like Carlos would run out from Hell Hall with a screaming Cruella behind him, a burning cigarette in her hand.

Pity wasn’t a thing on the isle but many of the younger isle residents would take it upon themselves to keep Carlos away from his deranged mother when possible, even Mal had done it when she was younger and much more…nasty, it was like seeing a puppy being kicked while it was already down, you couldn’t help but just care for it.

Then once Mal created her little group the incidents where Carlos ran away from his brother bruised and bloody lessened, until they completely stopped because he was in Auradon.

Now Cruella, ever the insane woman, attempted to chase after Diego, but Diego was stronger and taller than Carlos ever was against Cruella, and easily battered her away when he needed to.

Cruella didn’t bother him much after the first fist to her face.

Diego waved Colin and Ginny goodbye and walked out of the salon, making his way towards the rundown movie theater for band practice. He turned down an ally for a shortcut and appeared on the other side in the market, making his way down the market to get to the other side of the main street, where the theater was.

As he walked someone caught his eye, and he looked to his right, seeing Claudine Frollo picking through a basket of apples for whatever reason, probably her father making her do the grocery shopping.

Claudine was the bell ringer for dragon hall, she was quiet and soft-spoken, hardly talking to anyone her father didn't approve of. she wore clothes that covered her almost completely, as her father said it ‘keeps the sinful eyes of others away’. her sunflower curly blonde hair was always wrapped in a tight bun, it always got caught in her cross-necklace chain if it was let free. many assumed Claudine was a weak girl, her small frame and wide doe-like green eyes didn't help with the assumption, only to be in for a surprise when it was learned she could knock someone out with one clean punch, bell-ringing every day wasn't an easy task after all. she had many pursuers, many of which didn't go any farther after they were reminded of who her father was.

Diego stepped next to her and grabbed an apple, remembering he was wanting a snack before he had gone in for a haircut. She jumped slightly, turning to him with scared eyes before she realized it was him.

“Oh, hi Diego” Claudine mumbled, going back to grabbing some apples and stuffing them in her black and violet messenger bag.

“Hey” he mumbled back, picking up a sturdy-looking apple and biting into it, suppressing a smile at the crisp texture and sweet taste, fresh apples were so much better than he’d ever thought it be.

Claudine finished filling her bag and nodded at Diego, bidding him ‘adieu’ and turning to go the opposite way Diego had been going. Diego watched her for a moment before turning on his heel and resuming his walk towards the theater.

He arrived soon after and pushed open the doors, walking down towards the left hall past the broken-down arcade and stepping into the 2nd theater on the right.

“Eyyyyy look whose finally ‘ere~” his drummer, Ezekiel, called out to him, as he was sitting down on the stage in front of the screen. Diego nodded to him and climbed up the steps up to the stage, nodding at his bass player and secondary guitarist as they messed with their instruments “What took ya so long?”

“Haircut and snack” Diego shrugged, tossing the apple core to Ezekiel, who gagged and tossed the core into the trash a few feet away “let's get to it”

“Yeah~” Eva, his secondary guitarist and support singer, finished with her guitar and set up the mics and speakers. “Let's do dis~”

Kuvira, his bass player, nodded swinging their bass onto their back, and helped Eva set up the last of their gear.

Ezekiel plopped into his chair and spun his drumsticks between his fingers, grinning at Diego as he took out his guitar and threw the strap around his neck “So what shall we start with~”

“…” Diego looked off to the side for a moment, going through the mental list of their songs. “Different Evil Incoming, let's do that, it’s a wicked warm-up song” his band members nodded, setting up their instruments, following Diego’s lead as he started to shred on his guitar.

Claudine let out a sigh of relief as she stepped into her ‘home’, her father must have still been at his church service. She glanced at the calendar on the wall and closed her eyes, he had marked it as an all-day service which meant she was alone in the house until midnight.

Thank the gods.

She walked up the stairs to her room and unpacked her food into the fridge in her room, going back downstairs to pack away her father's food in the cabinets. Her father shunned modern technology, calling it the devil's work.

But Claudine would rather have her food last just a bit longer than they did in the cabinets.

Claudine took off her jacket and stretched her arms, groaning a bit as her back popped, she scanned the living room/kitchen once to look for anything out of place, and when she found nothing, she grabbed her jacket and ran back up to her room.

She closed the door behind her and took off her thick sweater, grabbing a thinner long-sleeved shirt and pulling it on, sighing in relief to be free of the slightly constricting fabric.

She glanced at her clock and smiled, it was hardly even one-thirty, she had plenty of alone time before her ‘father’ was home. As she grabbed her favorite book and walked to her closet, which was the only way to access the attic of the apartment, her mind flashed back to when she was much younger.

She was barely 4 years old when her mother died, leaving her scared and alone in their home. She didn’t know how much time had passed after that but she knew she was very hungry and very tired, that’s when Claude Frollo stepped into her mother's home and found her.

He had been looking for her mother after her mother had missed several church services, and with how devoted her mother was to the church it had ticked off the ‘that’s odd’ box for Frollo.

He found her, and in thanks to her mother for being so devoted to the church, adopted her, claiming her as his own and raising her under the name of ‘god’.

It had been 13 years since then, and Claudine had all but forgotten the face of her mother. She brushed away the memory of the day she had been found by her adoptive father and pulled herself into the attic carefully stepping around her piles of books, pillows, and blankets and settling into the corner next to the window, where she could read in peace with the natural light illuminating her favorite fantasy book.

Her father always said these books were works of the devil, but Claudine loved them too much to care, she knew they were fake but they allowed her mind to wander to a place far from the isle of the lost.

She set the book on her lap and opened it, beginning to read.

Once there were four children whose names were Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy.

-one week after the new vks are transferred to Auradon-

Ben growled into his hand as he glared down at the new documents the council had presented to him. ‘we hereby overrule the vk transfer plan, it is rushed and unplanned, you bringing six villain children over with no security checks or going through their history on the isle will doom Auradon’

While he and (y/n) had figured out the council couldn’t change the rules of his first proclamation or straight up say no to it, they had forgotten if they got enough evidence or if the whole council agreed they could shut the program down.

Luckily Ben had been able to salvage the isles fresh food and necessities program as it had high security going in and out of the barrier and the Auradon guards personally handed out the shipments to make sure no one snuck anyone or anything back into the ship.

Only one person on the council had gone against the rest, ex-king Luis, Prince Charming’s father. He understood the need to continue to get innocent children off the isle and had adamantly refused to vote against it, and helped Ben salvage the fresh food program.

Ex-queen Leah had been the biggest voice against Ben, and he knew she had orchestrated the meeting and the others to cut off the transfer program, she was still angry at Ben for bringing over the daughter of the fae that had “ruined” her daughter's childhood and ruined her motherhood.

Luckily, Ben had found a loophole, he had shown them his plans for the CPS and shelter, where each vk would have an adult to be in charge of them and a place to stay away from the general population and the council agreed that he could continue the vk transfer plan.

But only once he had finished building both the CPS and the shelter, then they demanded that there would be a more thorough screening of the villain children. In the way of applications, they would give their name, parents' name, fingerprints, an essay about why they wanted to come to Auradon, and then a section for the villain children to tell them about their lives on the isle. And then the council would go through the applications and THEY would approve of who was allowed to come to Auradon, and then Ben could choose out of their approved applications

Ben was angry, very, very angry. All the progress that he made within the last two months, gone. Only a day ago he was able to just point at a vk and say ‘you’re coming to Auradon’ and it could happen, with hardly any mess, yes, he would have to get a guardian for them and then get them approved by the school board for a new student and then get the new vk approved to live in the dorms but, that was a lot fewer hoops to jump through then this new application bullshit which would take so much more time.

And he wouldn’t even be able to be the first person to look at the applications as an unbiased person, they would go through cooky old people who still held on to their grudges against these kids’ parents, and pass that grudge onto the kid who wasn’t even born during that time!

Ben threw down the file containing the new guidelines for the transfer plan and buried his face in his hands. The shelter alone would take almost a year to be fully refurbished to be able to comfortably house hundreds of kids that ranged from toddlers to barely adults, then the CPS?? There was so much more to that than on the surface, he had to hire people, make sure they were certified, give them a place to base out of, get them trained to be able to handle the kids off the isle who most of which were probably traumatized! Get therapists ready, medical staff, kitchen staff, living wages, and so much more that just made Ben's head hurt.

Who the fuck thought it was a good idea to make a sixteen-year-old a king? His own father wasn’t king until he was well past his teens, why did he think his kid would be ready for all of this so much earlier than he did?

Ben sighed, lifting his head and rubbing his eyes, this was all going to take over a year, at least, possibly two, maybe almost 3. so the vks would just sit there and wait until they in Auradon were ready to have them come.

Ben felt rage bubbling in his gut, he just wanted to say fuck it and continue doing it the way he was, except with more kids each round. He wanted to go to the isle and just scream at the top of his lungs ‘those who wish to live in Auradon follow me!’ and be able to give those kids the freedom they deserved.

Ben’s anger-filled thought stopped at the sound of slamming on his door. ‘(y/n)’ Ben thought, slightly nervous. He had sent a text to the group chat telling everyone about the council's interference and it was safe to say no one was happy.

Mal had never responded but he heard that there was a new hole in the dorm building wall (which she thankfully repaired but it didn’t stop her from being pissed and deciding to go out for a fly to burn off her anger), Evie had let off a wide range of curse words, some of which were definitely not English, Jay had sent a flurry of random letters and a small rant, Carlos had chucked his phone and was busy repairing it.

And (y/n), Harry, and Gil? Gil was understanding, knowing Ben had no part in it, but the other two? (y/n) had gone silent, and so had Harry.

That was never a good thing.

Ben stood and walked over to his door, dragging his feet slightly as he did. He unlocked it and quickly took a step back as the door swung open and he was greeted by (y/n) and Harry's pissed-off faces.

“So what's this I hear about a meddling council” (y/n) hissed, stepping into the room with Harry following her, closing the door with his foot, and locking it. Watching as (y/n) stormed over to Ben's desk and picked up the file. “How could you let them do this?! Do you know how long it been for those kids?! Eight months!! And now you are going to let them wait even longer!? Fuck that!” (y/n) crumbled the file in her hands and Ben gestured to it as he gave a pleading look to (y/n)

“That’s what I want to do (y/n), but I can’t! When they overrule me, I can't do anything about it! I’m sorry, but if we don’t go by their rules then we don’t get kids off the isle…I’m sorry.”

(y/n) shook her fist in his face again and turned, walking towards Harry and burying her face in his chest, he wrapped his arms around her and glared at Ben. The two stared at each other for a moment, waiting to see who spoke first. Ben took the first word “I really am sorry, I’ll try to get everything ready as soon as possible, but some of it is going to take almost two years, maybe almost three! especially the shelter and CPS agency, and the council required those to be done before we can even send out the applications”

Harry stared at Ben for a moment before looking down at (y/n) and pulling her tighter into him.

“Get it done beasty boy” Harry seemed to growl, his lip set in a slight snarl “And quick, if this takes longer than yeh say, you’ll be hanging from the mast” Ben nodded, stepping towards (y/n) slightly and taking the crumbled file from her hands.

“I'll hold you to that” Ben sighed, stepping back and setting the file on his desk “In fact I’ll remind you if it does…what are we going to do about those kids in the meantime?”

“We can't let them sit there in the dark.” (y/n) mumbled, pulling away from Harry's chest and looking towards Ben “You remember the last time we did that, with Uma? You said she thought Harry and Gil abandoned her. We can't let those kids think we are abandoning them again; we need to let them know we’re doing everything we can”

“And we will” Ben nodded, the fire igniting in his chest again as he realized not all hope was lost “Those kids will know that we aren’t abandoning them. Through a newscast or a radio, I don’t know, but we'll let them know”

You and Harry nodded at Ben, who nodded back. “We'll figure this out.” Ben walked around his desk and sat down, glaring at the file. “We won't let them down.”

-end of part 5-

Part 5! and Uma can see into the future~!! also yep the council are dicks and prevent Ben from doing everything easily. also yep more vks! more to come about them in future parts! hope you enjoyed!

permtaglist

@queer-cosette @sephiralorange

@lunanight2012 @daughter-of-the-stars11

@musicarose @random-thoughts-003

@remembered-license @rintheemolion

@verboetoperee @imtryingthisout @thecaptainsgingersnap @jatp-rules-my-life

#Descendents #descendants #disney descendants #harry hook x reader #harry hook #harry hook descendants #harry hook imagine #interlude #finale #shuffle playlist #rewrite

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koreaweeb · 3 years

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Marionette - Fade Away (3)

@i-should-be-writing-my-own-fic @laraplisetski

TW: SWEARING, VIOLENCE, SEXUAL VIOLENCE, SEXUAL CONTENT

“I’ll be back before this fades away.”

Sometimes, he could not help but admire Kurenai. The confidence she carried, the sass she possessed but most importantly, her crazy ability to be on his mind constantly. She was right when she said that she would be on his mind when they first met.

Returning to the Beach, Chishiya was walking through the lobby to head to the executive meeting room when he bumped into Kuina. She too, had cleared her game and brought back another card tonight.

“Hey,” she said, bumping his shoulder with her fist. “What card did you get?”

Holding his hand up, Chishiya showed her the card. But Kuina was much more interested in the bite mark.

“You got that in the game?”

“No, I did not,” he said, pulling his sleeve down and continued walking but Kuina was following close behind. It escaped his mind temporarily, though he did not feel like explaining to her what the mark was. Kuina already had enough of him and Kurenai despite her constant encouragement to pursue the relationship.

“Then how did you get that?” Kuina asked.

As Chishiya sent a glare her way, Kuina was smirking right back at him. Cheeky bastard was teasing him.

It was not hard to guess where he would have gotten a bite mark, and who it was that gave it to him. It was just a lot of fun to tease Chishiya when he was always the one toying with them. Kurenai was like God’s gift to them to play him right back.

Arriving at the meeting room, they were about to open the door when someone barged in between them and slammed the door open with their body. It took them a second before they recognised Aguni. And he was carrying someone in his arms.

He was carrying Kurenai.

They rushed into the meeting room to see Aguni putting a barely conscious Kurenai on the table. Without thinking, Chishiya pushed Aguni aside to take a better look.

She was still breathing, but quite battered up. There were several cuts on her face with what looked like a bruise on the corner of her lips. Her hoodie was all scratched up but what concerned Chishiya the most was the makeshift bandage made out of what looked to be someone’s shirt around her waist.

The shirt was a deep red colour, but it was originally blue. It was dyed red by her blood.

Taking the bandage and her hoodie off, they could finally see the broken off spike in her right hip.

“She told me not to remove it,” Aguni said.

“She was right to tell you so,” Chishiya said. “I’m going to need some surgical tools. I believe you have some of those, An?”

“It’s in the infirmary downstairs.”

Aguni moved, about to lift Kurenai off the table and carry her down when Chishiya stopped him. “We can’t risk moving her now. An, I want you to bring me the tools and something to sterilise with. If there isn’t any, then boil some water. Get some gloves too. Kuina, I need you to stay and help me.”

“But I don’t know-”

“Just do as I tell you to.”

Kuina nodded.

Never had she ever seen Chishiya like so since she met him. He seemed so calm and collected but at the same time, panicking. He obviously knew what he was doing but there was a look in his eyes, a look that said he was not sure if Kurenai would come out of this alive.

The room was cleared, and only Kuina and An were allowed to stay.

They had to save Kurenai.

“You were supposed to kill her.”

Standing in a dark room by the window, Hatter spoke without looking at Aguni.

He had been clear with his instructions for Aguni, and not once did he ever disappoint. Tonight was the first.

When Kurenai first joined the Beach, Hatter thought it was interesting to have someone of her stature join. She was a Chuya, not that it meant anything here in Borderland. More importantly, she brought them valuable cards. While Hatter did not know whether or not collecting the cards would really end this nightmare, it was worth a try and Kurenai boosted them.

But her promotion to an executive member caused a buzz within their little community.

Many were impressed with the three high level cards she brought in, and some were starting to worship her as the Queen of games. Keeping morale high was important, especially if he wanted them to continue working for him. Though, he was having problems with the fact that some members were starting to shift their loyalty to her.

Why would they follow him when she was the one who proved her worth?

Night after night, he sent her to games.

Night after night, she returned with more cards.

He thought he could trust Aguni, his good friend, to get rid of this potential threat but even Aguni failed to do so. Why? What was it about her that made everyone want to protect her? Follow her?

“She saved my life,” Aguni said.

“So?!” Hatter yelled. “Since when did that ever matter to you? If we keep her alive, pretty soon the Beach will start to fall. The members will believe in her more than they do me, and we will lose the Beach.”

“The Beach was never-”

“The Beach is an utopia! We created this utopia, not some prissy rich brat.”

Ever since the creation of the Beach, Aguni had seen his friend spiralling out of control. He made up a lie to the members, gathering everyone to what he called utopia, and soon he started to believe in that lie himself. And now he was ordering the death of a woman just because she might be threatening his position?

This was not the Hatter he used to know.

“She gets to live for now, but not for long.”

Two hours went by, and they finally had Kurenai back in her room, stitched up and sleeping in her bed.

Letting out a sigh, Kuina collapsed onto a chair and looked over to the sleeping Kurenai. Ever since coming to Borderland, she was experiencing things she never thought she would and tonight, she crossed off yet another on the list: performing surgery.

Chishiya was sat by the bed, holding Kurenai’s hand and stroking her fingers gently. If he were not a medical student. If they did not meet in Borderland. If he did not have feelings for her, Kurenai would have died tonight.

“She got unlucky tonight,” Kuina said softly, careful not to wake Kurenai.

“They planned it.”

“Planned it? What do you mean they planned it?” Kuina frowned.

“Hatter’s trying to get rid of her.”

“Are you serious?”

“We need to start our plan soon. Before they succeed in killing her.”

#marionette ch 24 #chishiya #chishiya shuntaro #chishiya x oc #aib #alice in borderland #imawa no kuni no arisu #imawa no kuni no alice

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stitchandani · 3 years

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Story:

Lilo's College Days That Defining Moment The story of the moment Lilo and Mertle stopped being enemies and started, super slowly, being friends as teenagers. Written by Doverstar. Read below

16-year-old Mertle Edmonds didn’t go barefoot anywhere unless she was in her room. Especially not when every single pair of her sandals was a designer brand. Unfortunately, tonight she had to make an exception. It was a performance celebrating the 50th anniversary of her hula school. Being only two years from graduation, Moses, their Kumu, had decided to allow his oldest students to star in a special dance they’d all worked together to create. It was always easy working with Yuki, Teresa, and Elena. It was even easy working with Victoria. Mostly. But Lilo…Lilo Pelekai always had the worst ideas—the weirdest ideas. She was always trying to stink up the show, steal the spotlight. Luckily Moses didn’t approve half of her plans during the brainstorming, and the dance had come out okay. In fact, Mertle had shone out more than she usually did tonight. She did her part perfectly—the swing of her hips, the smoothness in her steps, the waft of both arms. Not a single slip-up, and not a curly hair came out of her ponytail. And of course, doing hula required she go barefoot. That made total sense. What was really not like her was running through the muddy trail down to the beach without shoes on. She didn’t intend to. She just had to get out of that building. Her mother had been there to congratulate her after the performance, as always. Moms gushed a lot, but at least Mertle could always say—with confidence—that her mom wasn’t doing it just because she was her mom. It was because, obviously, Mertle deserved every bit of the praise she received. When Mertle had gone to change into her green tank top and blue cutoff jeans, after the audience had all but left, she took her sweet time. It was even better that she got to the only bathroom right before Lilo had, so she got to see the sweet flash of irritation in those too-close-together brown eyes. Even that blue thing, Stitch, looked vexed. (Mertle had been telling herself for years that she didn’t know exactly what Stitch was, even if certain events during her childhood proved otherwise. Events and a talking dog who was probably asleep in her bedroom right now.) If Victoria hadn’t gone home so quickly after the show, she probably would’ve been annoyed for her creep friend too. Some nights just went too perfectly. Upon emerging from the bathroom, the redhead found that everyone was staring at her. As well they should—she looked great. But it was a different kind of staring. There was something really concerning in the way Teresa was practically biting her lip off and the way Moses seemed to be struggling to say something. “What?” Mertle tossed her ponytail, hands on her hips. “What did I miss?” Her mother, eyes strangely puffy, pushed past Moses to put her hands on her daughter’s shoulders. Mrs. Edmonds’ glasses looked foggy. “Mertle…sweetheart…” Was she getting all choked up? Why? Mertle’s eyes cut to Elena and Yuki and back to her mom. How embarrassing. Whatever it was, couldn’t it wait till they got out of the hālau first? Nobody liked a blubberer. Totally unprofessional. Her mom had always been just a little overemotional with, well, basically everything, and it got old fast. “Mom, everybody’s looking! What—” “It’s—Carl. It’s your daddy, Mertle.” Words blurred after that. Something about a phone call, something about missing the show tonight, something about “driving under the influence”. Mertle heard it. She just didn’t register what exactly had happened in the last twenty minutes. Her daddy couldn’t be gone. There was no way. He was rich; he owned a store, a resort, three convertibles. He was too important to be dead. As Mertle looked around, past her hysterical mother and at the remaining faces in the room, all she could hear was her own heartbeat. Everyone was still watching her, why were they watching her? She didn’t want to be watched. She didn’t want all the attention now. Not now. Couldn’t they take a hint? Wasn’t this one of those times where everybody was supposed to go away? Or just not be here? She hated the way they were gawking at her. Her daddy was

gone. What did that mean? Mertle felt it slowly sinking in further and further. Carl was dead. He died just moments ago. He was here then and now he wasn’t. Her face tingled. She knew she was about to cry, and she totally hated people seeing her cry. Didn’t cry often. She wanted her mom to give her one of those too-tight, really unnecessary, unwanted hugs, but everyone seemed frozen. Even Mrs. Edmonds. In that split second, Mertle looked at Teresa. Teresa looked away. Then Elena. She fiddled with her hair and glanced at the wall. Yuki met her gaze, just for a moment, and then she started fidgeting in her hula skirt, eyes downcast. The only person who stared right back at her was Lilo. Lilo was unashamedly waiting for Mertle to look at her, and the sympathy there, sympathy that was so clearly genuine, was almost enough to make teenage Edmonds gag. Without another word, she pushed past her mom, Moses, her classmates, and bolted out the open door into the warm night air. So there she was, barefoot, running through the slightly-damp path through the tropical woods to…she didn’t know where. Maybe the beach? Not home, no thank you. Mertle wanted to be alone, where those morons in the halau couldn’t find her and stand around being useless again. She didn’t know what she’d wanted them to do. Something, hello! Funny; she always knew what she wanted. Well, she knew what she did not want. What she didn’t want was...basically everything they’d just done. A whole lot of nothing. Nothing. That was what they were, after all, right? All of them. They were nothing. Not as important as she was. Not as talented, not as pretty. What had she expected? A posse wasn’t supposed to be a hug or a kind word. They’d never mattered that much in her world before. Except when she needed someone to yell at or to agree with her. So why did their actions back there matter now? She was out of breath already. Really needed more exercise. Wasn’t a dazzling hula career enough? Okay, maybe not a dazzling career, not yet. But someday. And practicing for it was clearly wearing her poor, hard-working body thin. She paused, hands on her knees, gasping for breath. She must be tired from the incredible show she’d just put on. That was it. Not out of shape at all. No way, not her. Someday she would have a dazzling hula career; she’d be a sensation, and then… Dad won’t make it to any more of my shows. The thought crashed down on her like the waves she heard beating the surf off to her right, somewhere past the trees and the palmettos. The weight of what she had learned just moments ago was finally starting to make her ache, and Mertle slumped against the trunk of a palm tree. Tears ran down her nose, and she felt herself sliding down the trunk, hugging her knees as she crouched in the sand. Moonlight trickled through the branches and stars twinkled in the clear sky. Mertle didn’t spend a bunch of time outside, unless it was a weekend. She might have enjoyed the night wind playing with her ponytail. If her daddy wasn’t dead. He used to visit. When she was little. When she was 5, 8, even once when she was 10. He’d bring her expensive gifts from his store in Honolulu. She wore a bangle he’d given her now, right above the old charm bracelet on her wrist. It said Daddy’s Little Princess in letters that used to be hot pink. She had been young enough then that being a Princess seemed an achievable goal. Here in the present, it was for luck. Or maybe to remind herself he existed. Because until today, she hadn’t heard from him in three long, disappointing years. Hadn’t seen him in five. Why was he gone? She needed him! Without Carl in the world, she felt…it was like she wasn’t special anymore. Like she wasn’t important, like she wasn’t a star. Her daddy, when he had bothered to show up or call or write or send her presents, had managed every time to make her feel like she was somebody. She believed it, too, to this very night, because he told her so often when they were together. He told her how amazing she was, and how lucky, because she had him for a father,

and he could give her anything. Not to mention a mother whose job gave them whatever they didn’t already have. Now there was nobody to remind her how incredible she was. How incredible she just had to be. She would start to think it was all a lie, and she was just as ordinary and witless as any of those girls in that stupid school. Because the one person in the world who believed it as much as Mertle had was on the side of a road somewhere, never to open his eyes again. “It’s not fair,” Mertle sobbed. “It’s not fair, it’s not fair, it’s not fair.” She jumped when she heard someone behind her. “Mertle?” Mertle thumbed the moisture out from underneath her glasses. “Go away.” “I know how—” “I said go away, Weirdlo!” Lilo was quiet as she slipped her yellow duffel bag off her shoulder, letting it drop in the sand, kneeling beside the redhead. She was in khaki shorts and a red top. Must’ve changed while Mertle had been running. It looked hideous on her. “I know how you feel,” Lilo said almost neutrally, going on as if Mertle hadn’t snapped at her. Mertle refused to turn and look at her. She so did not need this, not right now, not from…it. “You? Puh-leeze. Don’t make me laugh.” “I do,” Lilo insisted. “You’re probaby really confused.” She crossed her legs to get more comfortable. “And scared.” Her voice got lower and she looked at the hands in her lap. “And lost.” Mertle rolled her eyes, but that made hot tears spill faster down her cheeks and she rubbed them off angrily, worried her makeup would smear. “What do you know?” “I know you’re really gonna miss him. You talk about him a lot.” “Yeah, right.” Mertle scoffed, almost laughing for real then. “He wasn’t even a good dad! He was never here. Why should I care?” “But he was still your Ohana, right? I mean...he was still your dad.” Mertle was quiet for a second, contemplating that. Yeah, he was still her dad. But even so, what kind of dad up and leaves for the big city when you’re 2? Or stays away for years at a time, just so he can expand some dumb store? But he’d still come by every once in a while. He’d take her out to get some of Luki’s shave ice. He’d watch her surf. He’d even taken her to get her ears pierced. And when she picked out her first pair of earrings and held them up to him, two little diamonds, he told her they were dull compared to… Mertle felt her chest heave again and she turned her body further away from Lilo, to shield the mess she was obviously becoming. Worthless. She was worthless now, because she did have him to tell her otherwise. Stupid man. Why had he done this to her? What was he thinking? Had he been thinking of her as he died? Had he been scared? He’d been all alone. Lilo put her hand on Mertle’s shoulder, and the bespectacled puddle finally craned her head around to glance at her. “Why are you doing this?” Mertle demanded, sniffling, voice harder than she thought it would be. Lilo didn’t retract her hand. “I lost my dad, too,” she reminded the girl. “I know what it’s like right after….” She didn’t finish that part. Closing her eyes as if going back in time for a moment, Lilo sighed very softly, and Mertle thought she’d never heard someone sound so tired. Then Lilo opened her eyes and caught Mertle’s gaze again. “Anyway. I didn’t want you to be by yourself.” She managed a smile. “Nobody gets left behind.” Mertle gawked at her. She’d gawked at Lilo Pelekai plenty of times, dozens, hundreds. All the time they’d known each other, Mertle looked down her nose at Lilo. She’d sneered and called her names for over ten years. When they were children, the Edmonds child’s sole purpose in life had been to make her rival miserable, because if someone else could be miserable, Mertle wouldn’t have to be. This too-creative, too-nice, too-weird native teen was a freak. An oddball, a dork, a loser, a total irritant. The fly at Mertle’s lifelong picnic. Lilo was gross, loud, pathetic, had terrible taste in fashion… And she was the only one who’d stayed. Yuki, Teresa, Elena, they’d all looked away. But Lilo...Lilo had stared back, because

something of merit was happening to Mertle, something that mattered. She’d run after the girl who had tried to drag her down with every breath she’d taken since they were five years old. She acted like Mertle was important. Like Mertle wasn't worthless. Like she cared. Like they were friends. And slowly, through her tears, Mertle smiled back.

#doverstar posts #fanfic #story #lilo's college days #mertle edmonds #lilo pelekai #that defining moment #lilo and stitch #teen lilo #teenage lilo

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reversecreek · 3 years

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hi it’s me... clicks across the linoleum of the dash wearing high heels w a spray tan like i’m a member of jersey shore suddenly..... best summary of willa is that she got moira rose as her #1 chara on a What Character Are You Most Like personality test out of thousands of options.... says so much. u can find her pinterest here n her playlist here 😋 like this or hmu fr plots!!

* ashley moore, cis female + she/her | you know willa deneurve, right? they’re twenty-four, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, most of her life, on and off? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to watch me by the pom poms like, a million times this year, which makes sense ‘cause they’ve got that whole sticking gold stars over old polaroids until you can barely see faces, dressing as marie antoinette at your high school prom & delivering fake laughter to a bratz doll you’re pretending is a talkshow host thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is august 1st, so they’re a leo, which is unsurprising, all things considered. ( nai, 24, gmt, she/her )

HISTORY:

willa ws born to honestly like….. the perfect family not to honk my own tit bt……………. they were jst rly quite wholesome. her mum celeste was this larger than life person who could never b contained by the four walls of any room she was in. she hd the presence of a gold glitter chess piece on an otherwise mundane wooden board. her dad marlon used to always joke that he had absolutely NO idea how he landed her bc he was just this like. rly average guy by all accounts n purposes….. blended into the sea in high skl……. had a few close friends but was never rly Notable or made a proper impression anywhere…… he always retold it as him coasting thru life until he met her in college. kind of like he’d been half awake before. they just Clicked n no-one cld believe she’d chosen him bt she was jst. completely head over heels n didn’t care what anyone had to say bc that was That

willa always very much took after celeste…… there’s this one quote i remember reading that goes vaguely like “my mom and i would sit and listen to leonard cohen and joni mitchell lyrics together. from a young age i remember her being like "i’m playing this song and when it’s done i want u to tell me what’s happening in it” n she would give me a fake glass of wine when i was 8 and i would listen and b like. i think there was an affair.” which so much summarises their dynamic…… she ws just so like. dramatic n fun n always encouraged that in willa too. her mum was like. everything she aspired to be…… got scouted by a modelling agency in college n shot one campaign before blowing it off simply bc she was bored. starred lead in a play. spent a few weeks travelling asia selling handmade candles shaped like koi fish or curled up foxes or elegantly stretched hands. dated a parisian movie star during a break she and her father took n was featured in tabloids on his arm at the premiere. sm fun n exotic stories willa literally cldn’t get enough. whenever she’d tell them to willa as a kid her dad wld roll his eyes like ohhhhh here she goes again but it’d all b playful n he’d smile bc he honestly cldn’t get enough either. the stuff dreams are made of luv (lizzie mcguire stans rise)

(car accident & death tw) so u know when ur walking down a flight of stairs n then out of nowhere u miss a step n u get that lurch in ur stomach like ur in free fall? yeah. i won’t go into it too much but one night they were driving back from getting frozen yogurt and then suddenly they weren’t. she doesn’t rly remember much about it except for completely ignoring the doctors trying to give her the news and just saying “dad chose pecan. who chooses pecan?” n repeating that over n over n over until it didn’t rly register in her ears as english any more.

willa was uprooted from irving at 11 to go n live w her aunt in NY. this was like. a huge adjustment honestly….. her aunt blanche hd always been a little unconventional bt extremely glamorous. she lived in an old defunct theatre she’d bought out n came from a lot of money. willa’s mum’s side of the family hd always been well off bt celeste opted to live a little more Ordinarily shall we say after settling whereas blanche ws jst balls to the walls dripping w eccentric excess…. wld say she was never naked bc she ws always wearing black opium by yves saint laurent…… probably the living embodiment of la vie boheme….. she’d been admitted a yr early to a rly prestigious parisian design school n is an AMAZING seamstress. a corset she stitched a broadway star into got commissioned fr an actress’ red carpet walk at an indie film festival. rly just lived such a life rich w lots of stories n lots of talent too…… had that star quality essence tht her mum had n that was smthn willa found quite comforting everything considered.

(grief tw) u would think maybe a situation like this (one involving so much sudden change) wld cause a kid of tht age to withdraw into her shell bt willa only came out of her shell MORE. she coped w her situation by spinning it into a celebrity origin story inside her head. the tear jerker tale someone tells during their x factor audition to get the judges rooting for them. mentally streamlining things. repackaging all that hurt as a surefire ticket to success bc it had to be useful for something right? there had to b a point to it right? willa decided the point was she’s a star. KFHSGKFHGFKHGKJSFHG. get it girl….. she ws literally just like ok well clearly i’m destined to be famous n i’m the main character of this story. this story called earth. it’s all about me.

rly heavily immersed herself in her high skl theatre scene……. loved experimenting w fashion n literally wore the most outlandish things like. she treated the hallways like her milan f/w debut every new school yr…… a lot of the things she wore were actual like. costumes frm her aunt’s collection…… she has a multi-story closet u have to climb ladders to reach things in like a very rustic library…. it rly wasn’t uncommon for willa to turn up one day corsetted like a pirate with billowing sleeves or sporting the baby blue gingham of a swedish milk maid. it’s like she literally jst…… became a role. always. every day. the world ws her stage. the cameras were always rolling. her aunt only encouraged this tbh n honestly? icon. we love to see it. willa partied a bunch n rly lived a lax lifestyle where responsibility was concerned…. her aunt ws her best friend…… made rly gd friends with performers in the drag club scene n loved the glitz of that….. lots of wild nights turned grossly bright mornings

snagged an agent fresh into her first yr of college (she gt accepted to a pretty competitive theatre program at [redacted] in NY bc i haven’t looked into what that wld be yet <3 i’m merely a helpless british lass <3) n booked a few commercials n things….. when i say willa wld enter audition rooms like she owned the place i’m rly not exaggerating…. once she turned up to a casting call for MEN n just walked right to the front of the line scraping a random chair along the way n then took a seat w her legs crossed popping a bubble in her gum as they all glared at her like wtf is literally going on who are u. she received several complaints n she was just like “ur all acting so jealous of me….”

i feel like she got a pretty big role in a theatre production in her last yr at school. haven’t decided what yet. maybe smthn rocky horror or even mimi in rent. this was meant to b some like huge moment for willa like yes girl finally making it ur on ur way this is what u wanted n she WAS happy abt it but once it was wrapped she jst had this strange like Huh feeling in her chest……. n a la celeste w all her exciting stories was just like well i’ve done that so what’s next? i think she’d graduate n then jst suddenly decide to move to irving in a fit of impulse. to all her college friends she’d be like “ugh a beach retreat is so necessary honestly the city is sooooooooo toxic this place cld literally enlarge my pores if i wasn’t so rigorous with my skincare routine” bt like 🤔 what u seeking girl? results pending.

SO basically i feel like she finally moved back to irving little over a yr ago. she hd a brief stint starring on a reality tv show tht filmed in one of the larger beach houses where her dog gained a handful of fan accounts dedicated to him……. u maybe will see why in the first bullet point of her personality section………… FKGHKSHFGGKFSHKHG. honestly she ws received pretty well too (mostly bc she’s so fking dramatic n like a caricature of a person) bt it wasn’t anything to warrant actual Fame (despite what willa herself might think). she’s mostly jst like. chilling honestly. accepting scripts n flying out fr auditions still. she’ll nab the occasional part bt she’s looking for that One Thing that rly feels like her big moment….. otherwise i cn just imagine her treating irving like a little dollhouse compared to the roaring mansion of NYC n having fun playing around in it. strikes a pose w a hand on my hip…. and now to personality.

PERSONALITY:

got a very large n lithe greyhound n named him marlene dietrich bc she was a black n white hollywood starlet famously known for her affairs n “bedroom eyes”. willa was like ugh. icon status instantly. didn’t rly foresee the responsibilities tht came w owning a dog tht loves exercise n complains abt him being like “ugh he wants to run soooooooooo much 🙄 like where are u literally going”. having said tht loves him dearly n he can often be seen wearing little clothes. a baby’s bonnet. a quilted leather waistcoat. a custom dog boa. he’s very glamorous. willa calls him a gay icon despite no evidence to support this theory. she also says he can sniff out evil in ppl so she brings him sometimes when she’s first introduced to a friend’s new bf n if his nose quivers a certain way she’s like “marlene has spoken. it’s done”. her friends r like omg? what’s done? willa gets up n walks away without elaborating. marlene’s little paws clicking along the floor w attitude.

literally dressed as marie antoinette for her high skl prom even tho there was no theme pertaining to this. jst loves the spotlight. can fake cry and WILL to get out of a parking ticket or teach someone to watch their tone or even simply for the theatrics of it all. the Most dramatic………….. rly fits being an actress like when people find out what she does it’s very like oh that makes sense.

says she doesn’t get hangovers. she’s just like “i revoked that it doesn’t happen to me”. alludes tht this is bc she’s an all powerful deity that was Chosen to be Blessed bt really she’s jst great at bouncing back n acting fine even w a blistering headache. it’s about believing the performance so much that u even convince urself.

has an extremely elevated sense of self importance bc this is kind of the equivalent of several layers of bubble wrap to cushion her frm the world. strives to b extraordinary bc ordinary honestly feels like a death sentence n there’s nothing she’d want to b seen as less. despite this weight she puts on that she rly doesn’t tend to let ppl’s opinions affect fr the most part like she’s quite firmly set in this I’m Literally The Most Gorgeous And Beautiful Angel Star Creature To Walk This Narsty Little Earth view

probably an incredibly big fan of dramatic short lived love affairs. she wants the glamour of it all. the scandal. the randomly breaking up w someone in a public place n sliding on sunglasses after delivering the words over a freshly ordered coffee (tht she’ll leave without drinking bc that’s star power babey she waits fr no man or no hot beverage)…….. has no preference gets w any n all regardless of gender……… romanticises things so they hv a better spin or story in her head n doesn’t rly take things seriously like jst has fun in her fantasy world…. she’s like ugh chuck i know u wanted to marry me but i’m a beautiful bird in a cage n u literally need to undo the latch n set me free……. the guy’s like……. my name’s chase n we’ve only been on two dates….. willa’s like…… please don’t take this so hard i can tell ur besides urself but people r starting to stare……. gets up n leaves. no-one was staring. chase is confused n honestly probably semi concerned fr her welfare.

always has to b the hottest n most glamorous person in a grocery store…. probably goes to them when she doesn’t even need anything jst holding a basket nonchalantly over her forearm glancing over at a cashier in her wizard of oz corset seamed interpretation on a dorothy dress thinking he wants me soooo bad it’s not even funny….. seduces him over the check out counter jst for him to ask her to come back to his so she can lean back scandalised n cry “IS THAT THE KIND OF WOMAN U THINK I AM, PAUL?! YOU’RE A GHASTLY LITTLE MAN, YOU ARE….” with all the gusto of a telenovela. attracts the shocked glances of all surrounding elderly.

speaks fluent french. probably on her brief stint on tht reality show i mentioned earlier was like “ugh can you believe Deneurve of this guy?” n in her head was like this catchphrase is sensational it’ll catch on fast the twittersphere is abt to implode but it didn’t become a thing except for in a small isolated community. despite this she’s like “yeah it went viral….. go figure. just another day in the life.”

honestly like a lot of fun bt also a huge handful at the same time. keeps her real Serious emotions in a locked box bt is always overflowing w melodramatics n rly giving her all at the drop of a hat where Performing is concerned. probably Loves parties n sees them as another form of production in which she wants to b the lead. rly just. loves herself. except does she? 🤔 lifts my hand up like rihanna n winks. find out next time. lucky by britney plays as i slowly disintegrate in spiderman rp…..

WANTED CONNECTIONS

unrequited flame: willa burns thru people like matches. bright n fast. honestly i feel like she struggles to take romance seriously so it cld be fun to play around with someone who’s been singed by that in the past…. mayb they hd actual feelings whereas willa was just messing around n having fun…. living la vida loca so to speak…….. we can discuss a time frame or specifics to expand upon this but. sexy angst perhaps.

those she knew from childhood: willa moved to NY at 11 n i feel like it was very sudden n soon after the accident. maybe she didn’t even say goodbye. maybe they were rly close n all of a sudden she didn’t show up to school the next day n when they rode past her house on their bike the sign said sold and that was that. honestly very dramatic of her even at a young age. we love a disappearing act. houdini who?

acting rival: honestly jst feel like this cld be funny. willa’s so dramatic she’d be like i literally want them dead they’re a despicable little gremlin fr trying to steal my spotlight. cld be as simple as having auditioned a few times fr the same parts or something.

childhood sweetheart: i think it cld be rly cute n sad if there was someone that kind of echoed the dynamic her mum n dad had except she was the celeste n they were the marlon…. (open to any gender)…….. so like. willa was always very larger than life commanding attention in a room n they were more to the sidelines but they just kind of got each other n brought out the best in one another. added angst to the fact tht willa wld maybe want to avoid them as much as possible now bc it dredges up feelings she doesn’t want to confront where her parents r concerned n also in a way any possibility of them winding up together feels like sellotaping an expiration date to both of their foreheads in willa’s brain

someone who was either a fan of or also on the reality show willa was: i imagine it like a reinvention of the hills honestly except based in these irving beach houses…. probably didn’t run that long bt there was a bunch of drama on it mostly staged…… maybe they were willa’s love interest bt it was all fake fr the cameras…… it wasn’t like. a huge deal n didn’t rly catch flight so much where popularity’s concerned bt. cld be fun to play with <3

patti frands: jogs in high knees to translate that into party friends as i adjust my spectacles. willa’s very sociable bt she’s also like kind of full of herself n obnoxious so do with that what u will. KFHGKSHGKGHFSKG. she knows hw to have a gd time tho like growing up she was rly into the gay club scene n the drag scene in NY so like. let’s hear it fr the gays who know how to do it right <3

someone equally over the top: i luv the idea of willa having someone who just like runs with made up scenarios n roles she makes up on the spot n them hanging out is like a 24/7 improv session tht they reel random surrounding strangers just fr the fun thrill

the other woman: willa is quite detached n selfish so she wld easily be the other woman in a relationship n not care about it n this cld make for good spice <3

#irvingintro #death tw #car accident tw #grief tw #i think tht's all of them #smiles at u all w hand on hip #this intro's so beefy bt wht else is new truly just can't control myself apparently... shocked. aghast. shaken.

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gdotsand · 4 years

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I completely forgot to post this on here but I finished my crosstitch! 4 months of hardcore stitching and I finally have him framed. He did fall off the wall the other night and I had a mild heart attack but we’re all good now. Pattern is from Rich Beach Cross Stitch on Etsy if anyone wants to give it a go!

#gee crafts things #bucky barnes #the winter soldier #sebastian stan #crosstitch #yes my fingers are still bleeding #yes i had to bulk buy black thread

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glitterportrait · 4 years

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hamish dream drabble thing

In the dream he hears Alice calling to him on the shore.

He barely recalls what it looks like, the beach nearest Kirkwall. He’d been so young the last time he left it, and green-cheeked at the mere prospect of boarding another ship. But in the dream he knows she’s waiting there for him, sitting on the rocks with sand in her skirts, leashed impatience in her face.

Come down, Hamish, and I’ll tell you a story.

He’d always liked her stories. She would respin the old islanders’ yarns, adding her own distinctive flourish, as careful to pronounce the Orcadian names in her hard-won English accent as he. She had a fine voice for storytelling, Alice, unexpectedly fine; the richness of it issuing from her bird-boned frame surprised you, put you in mind of a practiced orator at his podium. In Yvon’s dedicated efforts to read to him Hamish often hears the echo of Alice’s cadence, though he will never say so.

You like the gruesome ones best, I know. So I shall tell you of the Nuckelavee.

What was the Nuckelavee? It’s been so many years since he heard that one, he can’t remember. Something with a horse, he thinks, one of those preposterous water-dwelling fairy equines that the Scottish seem so fond of. Well, he will let her tell it, for old times’ sake.

He tries to walk down to the beach, but the walls of Wobik loom in his path. The gate is closed, and leaning against the spear-sharpened planks, fleur-de-lis wilting over his head, Elisha Cooke greets him.

“You won’t find what you came from in there.”

Cooke is soaking wet, as though he’d tumbled straight out of the sea. To Hamish he always appears damp around the edges, with his pale eyes penetrating yet watered down, hair unnaturally slick at the temples. But now he’s sodden through and through, his beard a bedraggled fisher-cat’s tail, dripping down his embroidered waistcoat.

“But you’ve been there,” Hamish corrects him. “You know what it’s like.”

“No indeed, Mr. Goames,” Cooke replies, his chuckle so soft it’s more like a gasp. “I was never there, not really. Surely you know that? But if you must try for it, don’t forget to bring that in with you.”

Cooke points to Hamish’s feet, and glancing down he sees a fox, lying there with paws tucked under its chest. Though it doesn’t look quite right—it’s made of old rags, stuffed and stitched together, with whiskers and ears drawn on in charcoal—

He turns back to Cooke, but he’s vanished. Bill Selby stands in his place, and he’s sopping not with saltwater, but with gore. Bits of viscera slide down his flushed cheeks; he grins at Hamish as the gate swings wide behind him.

“Watch thee step un’r the black sun, lad!” It isn’t Gay Bill’s broad Glaswegian he hears, but a rarer and scarce-recollected lilt, the sound of his father’s tongue.

He pushes past Selby, squinting at the sky (the black sun overhead is still bright, bright enough to stab and scrape beneath your eyelids if you’re not careful) and finds himself on the shore. Only it’s the river before him, not the ocean: the vast and martyred Saint Laurent, though he hears the pounding of ocean waves clear as though he looked upon the North Sea’s face.

“It’s just the sound of what’s coming,” Yvon says, ambling up from the riverbank, braid unraveling, blood in his nostril from the blow Bill landed, still bruised and burst-prune violet as the moment he last saw him—

my God I am sorry I am sorry for it

—leaving with the girl.

“I know you are no great cavalryman, no more than I.” Yvon’s lips quirk in amusement. He raises an open palm as if to take hold of Hamish’s shoulder, though he does not.

“But listen again.”

And Hamish does, and he realizes that the pounding, the rhythmic slam and strike, is the sound of galloping hooves.

“Is that what I came from, then?” He tries to focus on Yvon’s face, but it blurs into unfamiliarity, and from there into nothingness; there is no one to walk with him, no one but the ragdoll fox.

It is watching him from a little ways up the beach, and he does not remember its face being so sooty, so stained about the mouth before. The cloth lips drawn back from its teeth, and its creaking voice unspools like string, tautening in the gusts of sea-wind: Savedyourskinsavedyourskin. The words all run together, but he discerns it when they change again: Askinforaskinforaskin.

There’s a pain beneath his ribs, a pain like what he imagines an apple’s flesh might feel under the edge of Yvon’s coring knife. When he looks down he sees the fox’s head gnawing at his side, burrowing into the wound with exultant glee, muzzle soft as a babe’s plaything and bright as a bloodied hand—

He slaps the fox away, moaning, shouting, though no sound comes out.

Hamish! Would you hear the tale or not?

He follows Alice’s voice, ever onward, until he finds her silhouette against the waterline. Obsidian sunlight glances off and into his unblinking eyes, so that looking hurts almost as much as his side; and when she faces him he isn’t in the least taken aback to see her gaze is as black as Cross claimed.

“The Nuckelavee is both ridden and the thing that rides. It is the plague of our blood, and only the Mither of the Sea can check it. I’ve told you this many times. But you forgot to bring the sea with you.”

That is right, Hamish realizes. He has always forgotten. In his ears the hoofbeats have grown louder, a roar that lodges in the mind, that blights all hope of future quiet.

“Do I have to go back?”

Of course it is Yvon who answers, materializing by his bleeding side, his warm seamed skin splitting with a smile.

“You don’t have to go back. You just have to turn around. But do not worry overmuch, Hamish. There are hardly any horses in Paradise Lost.”

Yvon would know, he thinks, so he turns around.

And he sees it, riding and being ridden beneath the black sun. The Nuckelavee, its four-legged form fused with the two-legged thing astride it, an abomination of horse and man melded together like carcasses conjoined. Its entire shape is skinless, as a kill just freshly stripped of hide, all gleaming fat and twitching muscle and red red red—

I DROWNED ME IN THE RIVER, it bellows out of two mouths, in a voice at once like Randall Cross’s and like the wet scream of a strangled colt. Somewhere in the distance there’s the din of pistol shot, but it dwindles to mere popping beneath the Nuckelavee’s words.

Hamish Goames wants nothing more than to wake up; he would set every hectare of Rupert’s Land ablaze, he would murder Randall all over again, if only he could wake.

IN THE RIVER IN THE RIVER IN THE RIVER

He does not wake.

#barkskins #barkskins drabble #hamish goames #i don't know what this is exactly #warnings for spoilery things and some bloody deets i guess #real heavyhanded on the symbolism i'm sorry

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lettersofwrittencollective · 5 years

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Hold On

Author: @lettersofwrittencollective

Pairing: Thomas x Reader

Word Count: 6307

Warnings: None

Prompt: None

A/N: I was listening to the song, Hold On by Chord Overstreet and came up wit this... As always please feel free to give me your thoughts and opinions.

Masterlist || DOB Masterlist

You were running to the truck that Jorge had driven into a crowd of cranks. Brenda was shooting at some, trying to keep them from getting too close to the four of you. Frypan, Thomas and Newt had made it onto the truck, they’re longer legs able to get them there faster. They were calling you name, motioning for you to jump.

You jumped onto the truck and Jorge, thinking everyone was safe or trying to shake the Cranks, pressed on the gas. You were thrown off balance and would have fallen off hand it not been for Thomas and Newt grabbing onto each arm. Thomas tried to reach your jacket to tug you back in. Unfortunately, just as he was about to reach your jacket, Newt lost his grip on your arm. “Tommy!!” you screamed as you suddenly found yourself in a very precarious situation.

The arm that Newt had held was now behind you and you were trying to focus on holding onto Thomas with your other arm. There was a tug on your free arm and you turned to a crank had managed to latch onto you for just a moment before other cranks knocked him down. Immediately, you pulled the free hand as close to your body as you could manage when Thomas, in a burst of adrenaline, was able to pull you back into the truck.

When Thomas had pulled you into the truck, you collided with his chest and your arms were quick to wrap around his torso. He had tried to step back, to check you over and make sure you were ok but you had only tightened your grip on him and burrowed your face into his chest. Seeing how freaked out you were, Thomas had merely held you tighter and kissed your head before moving his hands to rub soothing circles across your back.

Once you had calmed down, he checked the arm that the crank had grabbed. Seeing nothing but bruising, the both of you let out a sigh of relief and you couldn’t help feeling foolish for having been so terrified for what ended up being no reason.

When you’d apologized to everyone- Newt, Frypan, Brenda and Jorge had reassured you that you were fine. Thomas had waited till they had all given you their reassurances before cupping your face in his hand and tilting your head up so he could kiss your forehead before he told you that you were allowed to freak out every once in a while, especially when cranks were involved.

Thomas had then spent the next few hours holding you in some way. Whether he had you pulled up against him in Jorge’s truck or holding your hand while you walked the outskirts of the Lost City. When you were in his arms, he would press kisses to your temple or your hair every few minutes, as you walked through the outskirts, he would tug you so that you were practically on his back, his grip tight on your hand.

You had been the one to notice the group of masked men following you, having pointed them out to Thomas as Newt came up, you were all taken aback by the sound of the machine gun firing into the crowd.

When the masked team had thrown both of you in the back of a van, Thomas had adjusted his body so that he was in front of you. It was both frustrating and adorable. You swore that he forgot that you’d been in the Glade with a bunch of boys for a while before he’d come up. You had gone toe to toe with all of them and were able to take care of yourself for the most part. So, when you had learned that Gally was in fact still alive, you found that you were incredibly grateful. The guy had been a right ass in the end but he was still your friend.

When the situation had calmed down, Thomas was the first one to notice that you were bleeding. Once he confirmed that it was your lower leg and not near your femoral, he’d picked you up so quickly it made you dizzy. He’d demanded that Gally and his new friends get you to a medic.

As the medic stitched you up, Thomas had had to go meet Lawrence. At first he argued against it but was convinced easily enough when you pointed out “Tommy, Lawrence may be our only way to get into WCKD.”

That had been just a few hours ago. Now, though, you were outside the walls of the Last City, sitting on the roof of Lawrence's house waiting for Thomas, Newt and Gally to come back. The three boys were trying to find a way to get into WCKD and based on the way Gally spoke of the place, you had a suspicion you knew exactly how he planned on getting into the WCKD building.

Not much later, Brenda took a seat next to you and the two of you sit in silence, watching the world around you. It’s Brenda that breaks the silence, “What do you think they’ll find?”

You wish she hadn’t asked that, you want to be naive to what the solutions likely to e but you’d been put in the Glade the month after Gally, when they were still sending boys and girls. He’d taken you under his wing so to speak and to pretend that you didn’t know was foolish. In fact, as soon as Brenda had asked, the suspicion itself suddenly became an indisputable fact in your mind.

“Gallys going to want to use Teresa to get us into WCKD.”

At the silence that followed, you turned to look at Brenda. The sight in front of you was almost comical. Her face had paled, her eyes had a deer in the headlights quality with how large they had gotten and her jaw had dropped.

You merely turned back to look at the wall before your eyes fell to the people traveling the alleyways below. Inside the walls were the rich, the ones that could afford the cure torn from innocent children and out here was a mix of people who wanted to save those very children and who would use them if given the chance.

“Wait! You’re being serious?!” she asked you after the initial shock wore off.

“Deadly. Especially because I’m pretty sure that Newt or Frypan would have told him of her betrayal. Teresa was always soft on Tommy. If they haven’t been able to get in before but Gally’s sure that he get them in now, he’s going to use Tommy to lure her out. She’ll be our ticket to Minho.”

“And you’re sure that everyone’s gonna be on board with this?”

You were confused and were about to ask what it was that she meant when Jorge came through the doors and called for the two of you. Getting up, you and Brenda followed Jorge down the stairs into a room that seems to be covered in papers and plans.

Frypans sitting in a chair to the side, Thomas is pacing near the wall and Gally and Newt are around a table. Your legs not too happy with you right now, so you lean against the wall, keeping most of your weight on your good leg while Brenda joins Newt and Gally at the table.

The atmosphere in the room is tense and suddenly Thomas is turning towards your group as he says “No. There’s gotta be another way.”

You watch as Gally drops the plans on the table in front of him, without actually turning to Thomas he asks “Like what? You’ve seen the building, she is our only way in.”

“You really think she’s gonna help us?’ Thomas challenged.

You have to work to hide the chuckle that wants to bubble up. Of course you were right about Gally wanting to use Teresa. “I doubt he’s planning to ask for her help Tommy,” you say from your place against the wall. Lifting the leg that had had a bullet in it, you stretch out the foot in front of you.

Thomas sees this and makes his way towards you when Brenda asked for clarity, pulling Thomas’ attention back to the matter at hand. “Am I missing something here? This is the same girl who betrayed us correct? Same dick?”

“I like her.” Gally says of the girl that had helped saved your life earlier, as he crosses his arm and looks at Thomas.

‘What’s going on?” she asks of Thomas and it’s in that moment that you realize what she had meant earlier.

Crossing your arms in front of you, you bring your left hand up to your lips as you try to make sense of the why. Teresa had destroyed everything when she had given you up to wicked. In your opinion there was no redemption for the girl.

The rooms silent as you watch them. Newt catches your eye and raises an eyebrow, silently asking if you’re okay. You don’t respond because you’re not exactly sure. That seems to set Newt off and he practically growls out across the table “What are you afraid your little girlfriends gonna get hurt?”

Thomas’ silence tells you what you need to know and you let out a cold scoff as you place your weight on both knees and bring your left hand down, “Of course it is. This has never been about rescuing Minho has it?”

Everyone turns to look at you and you continue to stare at Thomas who takes a step towards you, confusion on his face “Y/N- what are you talking about?”

Your eyes harden and you’re about to respond when Newt’s caught everyone off guard. ‘Teresa. She’s the only reason that Minho's even missing in the first place,” he’s stalking Thomas, forcing the brunette to step backwards until he’s practically pinned against a wall “now we finally have an opportunity to get him back and you don’t want to. What? Because of her?! Because deep down inside, you still care about her don’t you?”

Thomas’ eyes flick to you but you’d already schooled your features. All he sees is a cold, hard mask.

As Newt pulls Thomas’ attention back him, “Don’t look at her!” he calls, and you tighten the grip of your arms across your chest. This time, you’re trying to hold yourself together. The night that Thomas had run into the maze, after Minho and Alby, you had sat with Newt all night. The two of you deciding to follow this shuck if he made it back alive and he had. Thomas had always taken care of both you and Teresa and you hadn’t thought anything about it at first but as you guys planned the train car heist, the two of you had gotten closer and you had found that you were falling for the idiot.

You had known it the night that the two of you had laid on the shores of the beach just tracing the stars in the sky.

It had been a particularly brutal day as far as training and planning. You had argued with Tommy, Newt and Frypan about the best way to figure out which car Minho would be in. You had offered to go to the main station and keep an eye while they loaded the kids to try and make sure you got Minho’s car but none of the boys would hear about it. According to them, it was much too risky. You’d pointed out that the whole plan was risky and that you had no problems risking everything if it meant getting one of your brothers back.

Tommy had practically lost his mind and the two of you had argued back and forth. When he yelled at you about making reckless decisions the two of you had gone back and forth. Most of the group gave you a wide berth the rest of the day.

When everyone else had gone to bed, you had stayed out on the boat just watching the glistening stars overhead. Thomas had come to find you and after you both apologized to each other, he stayed with you.

“You know Y/N, I think that one’s Orion,” he said after a few minutes and traced the star for you.

“Now where’d you learn that?”

He’d simply shrugged as he sat next to you, “When you said you enjoyed them, I asked Jorge to show me. I know Newt and Frypan never learned them.. Figured you would like someone to talk to about ‘em.”

The two of you had stayed there the rest of the night and had taken turns pointing out stars and constellations that you knew.

You’re pulled from your thoughts as you hear Newt screaming at Thomas. “DON’T LIE TO ME!” he pushes the brunette against the wall itself, “DON’T. LIE. TO. ME!” Less than a second later, you watch as Newts demeanor change. He apologizes to everyone twice before leaving the room.

Everyone watches him leave for a moment, you included. You’re so caught up in the moment that you don’t realize that Thomas has made his way towards you until he’s calling your name Turning to him, you see the confusion on his face, he looks like he wants to reassure you but he’s not sure how and you want to tell him things are okay but instead you motion your head towards the doors Newt just exited, your voice is cold “You should go check on him Thomas.”

He flinches at the full use of his name. Y/N and Newt are the only ones that call him Tommy. In fact, he’s not sure when the last time you used his full name outside of the Glade was. He reaches his hand out towards her and feels his heart drop when she steps back.

“Y/N…” he begins but is quickly cut off.

“Go check on him Thomas and get over whatever hang up you have about using Teresa or I’ll kill you myself.” there’s no emotion in her voice, it’s flat and cold and as he looks at her, he can see the glassiness in her eyes. He tries calling her name again, much more softly this time and he watches her eyes flick behind him.

“Gally.” she calls as she walks past him and he turns to watch her. As she almost reaches him, she loses her footing, her bad leg unable to support her weight. He moves to help her when he sees Gally’s already got his arm around her waist but as soon as he touches her shoulder she shakes him off.

“You need to go check on Newt, Thomas.” she says without turning to him. A pained breath leaves her lips and she leans her head on Gallys bicep before sayin, “I need to go get this damned gauze changed and off my feet for a little. Mind helping a girl out, Gal?”

Thomas watches as Gallys eyes go from Y/N to him and back before the boy reluctantly nods his head and helps Y/N limp out of the room. Turning his head, he sees the rest of the group just looking at him, disappointment evident in their gazes. He clears his throat and walks out to check on Newt.

Finding his friend on the roof of Lawrences, house, he walks up slowly before stopping behind him. Newt turns to look at him, “Sorry about that, back there… I guess I can’t hide this anymore.” Thomas watches the black veins that indicated that his friend has been infected by the Flare.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked as he sank down by his friend.

“Didn’t think it would make any difference.” Newt looked at his arm and then out at the outskirts of the city, “All I know is that WCKD must have put me in that maze for a reason. And maybe it was literally just so they could tell the difference between immunes like you and people like me.”

“You know, we can still fix this Newt.”

Newt disagreed with him however. The goal was to get Minho out of WCKD, no matter what the cost.

The two friends sit in silence for a few minutes. Thomas is thinking back to the cold look on your face and the shuttered eyes he had never seen before. Clearing his throat, he asks his friend “Newt… Do you think that Y/N is -”

His friend laughs and pats him, hard, on the shoulder as he cuts him off, “Whatever the two of you are- you’re going to have to grovel for her forgiveness. I can’t remember the last time she called you Thomas outside of the Glade.”

“What do you mean ‘whatever we are’?” Thomas asked the other boy, the wording confusing him. When Newt merely gave him an expectant look, he continued, “Newt, she’s my best friend, I don’t know what I would do without her.”

“So, she’s just your friend?”

Thomas felt his cheeks flush and shook his head, “She’s so much more than that...”

“Does she know that?”

Thomas nods his head, “Of course she does! How could she not?! Whenever something happens, she’s the first one that I go to. Whenever I need help with a decision, she’s the one that I talk it through with.”

“Tommy, have you told her?”

At that, Thomas has to think about it for a minute and realizes that he doesn’t actually every remember telling Y/N what he thought of her. The two of them did so many things together, that he just assumed you knew what you meant to him.

He wasn’t sure how long he had been silent, but Newt squeezed his shoulder, “You two are a strange pair. You’ve been dancing around each other for months now. We’ve all seen the possibility of more than a friendship for a while now but the first time I’ve seen you show something physically romantic towards her was after the cranks almost took her the other day. Since then, you’ve been tripping over yourself to keep an eye on her. She doesn’t usually do well with that ya know?”

“Well why would that change?”

“Well, as we’ve already pointed out, she called you Thomas. Also- you’re out here with me still. If you were so sure of where you stood with her, you would have already gone in to check on her.” With that, Newt stood up from the ledge of the building and went inside.

Thomas sat on the edge of the building for a few more minutes before he realized that he needed to talk to you. Especially after the Teresa comment that Newt had made earlier, he needed to make sure that you knew that you were the best thing that had happened to him.

Getting up, he made his way inside. It took him having to find Gally to figure out you had been set up in a spare room and that was where you had last been seen. Gally refused to tell him where the room was, saying that he needed to leave you alone which only irritated Thomas who told the blonde to mind his own business.

He’d stormed out of the room and was able to get directions to your room from one of the other girls in the area. When he finally found your door, he knocked a couple times. When there was no response, he called your name. You sounded weak when you responded and it immediately worried him.

While he waited for you to open the door, there was a loud crashing sound and a thud. He immediately tried to open the door in front of him only to find that it was locked. Calling your name frantically, he pushed against the door. It wouldn’t budge and so he started to throw his weight against it.

Someone tried to grab his arm but he shrugged them off. “Thomas! What are you doing?!” Newt asked as he pulled the boy backwards.

Thomas continued to throw his weight against the door, as he answered Newt. “Y/N... There was a crash and a thud. I need to make sure she’s ok.” Suddenly the door broke open.

Rushing into the room, his eyes found you on the floor on the other side of the room. He ran to you and pulled you into his arm. Putting a hand to your chest, he found a very faint heartbeat.

“Y/N?!” he called, his voice panicky. “Newt go get someone!”

He watched Newt run out of the door and turned back to the girl in his arms. “Y/N…” he whispered as he tried to find your pulse. It was getting weaker and he wasn’t sure how that was possible “Y/N hold on, Newt’s getting help.”

He pulled you into his lap and held you tight. “Y/N - I need you... Please don’t leave me...” he whispered into her hair as he kissed her temple.

A pained whimper escaped her lips and he looked down to find her looking at him. There was a small smile on her lips and her breathing was shallow. “I’m so tired Tommy,” she whispered as she closed her eyes.

“No, no, no, Y/N, open your eyes!!” When he saw her eyes flutter open and then close, “Y/N… PLEASE DON’T LEAVE ME!!” he screamed as he picked her up and cradled her to his chest before running out of the room. His only thought to get the girl in his arms to help. What felt like a lifetime later, he ran into Newt and a group of men and and a woman. The woman stepped forward and asked what had happened; Thomas shook his head, “I... I... I don’t know. I heard a crash and she was on the floor when I finally got in… She won’t open her eyes!”

The girl was saying something to the other two that had come in with her. She was speaking so fast that he wasn’t able to understand what was said. She looked at Thomas, “I need you to let her go.”

Suddenly, there were hands trying to pull you from him and Thomas pulled you tighter against him as he moved backwards.

“Thomas they’re trying to help...” he heard Newts voice, soft and reassuring in the haze of the rest of the room.

Looking at the people around him, he saw that someone had brought a gurney. He turned to look at Newt who nodded his head reassuringly, then he looked at the woman who had taken your vitals “Please… save her…” he begged, his voice broken.

The woman didn’t say a word, merely offered him a sad smile. He kissed Y/N’s forehead, and whispered “come back to me please...”

The med-jack then helped the men move Y/N from his arms to the gurney before they quickly made their way out of the room and down the hallway.

Following not too far behind them, Thomas watched as they took her into an enclosed room. Trying to follow, he was stopped by Gally.

“Greenie-“The blonde started to say, but was interrupted by Thomas shoving him backwards. Gally stood his ground and pushed back, “Greenie!”

“Get out of the way Gally.”

“You need to wait a minute and let them try to save her!”

Thomas’ stopped and looked at Gally. “What do you know?”

“Nothing concrete, I just have a suspicion.”

“Care to elaborate?”

“Not really.”

At that, Thomas saw red and pushed Gally against the door behind him. Grabbing the boy’s shirt in his fists, he pulled him close. When he spoke, his voice was low, harsh and deadly, “What the hell is happening to her?!”

Gally didn’t seem fazed as he grabbed Thomas’ wrists and threw them off of him. Thomas watched a Gally’s eyes narrowed and he stood straighter. “Look Greenie, I’ve known Y/N a hell of a lot longer than you have!” he shoved against Thomas and Thomas was forced to take a step back. “I was the one that taught her how to build. When our friends were banished, or died because of some shuck headed idiot, she would sit with me, Newt and Minho to mourn them. That girl is our little sister.”

Gally continued to press Thomas, making him step even further backwards “So you’re not the only one that’s worried about her! I’m worried! Newts worried! Frypans worried. Guaranteed that Brenda and Jorge will be worried.” He then took his finger and stabbed Thomas in the chest with it, his voice dropping and becoming menacing, “What makes your shuck face so special?”

Thomas stopped letting Gally push him backwards and shoved the boy again, “Because I love her! You stupid shank! Now get out of my way or I swear, I’ll kill you.”

As he walked towards the door, he heard a commotion behind him. Turning, he saw that Frypan, Jorge and Brenda had joined them in the room. He turned away from them and saw one of the men that had helped the woman move you. He was in a different outfit, a grey shirt and pants with a white coat on top. It took Thomas a moment before he recognized the ensemble as that of a doctor. He was talking to Gally and a moment later, Gally was sprinting out of the room.

“Hey! What’s going on?” He asked the man as he walked towards him.

The man looked at Thomas but didn’t answer. Instead, he looked at the group gathered in the room with Thomas. “You’re all here for the girl?” At their nods, he sighed, “She an immune?”

Thomas felt his blood freeze at those words. Was it possible that WCKD had really mixed them up in a group like that? Thinking about Newt and Winston, he knew it was possible but he didn’t want to believe that Y/N wasn’t immune.

“She was in the maze with us.” Frypan answered. “But Winston wasn’t immune... The cranks got him…”

“Then I guess we can only wait and see.”

“What happened?” Thomas asked again, he felt like a broken record but he had to know what was going on with you.

“I’m waiting for Gally to come back with some bullets to be sure but, for now, I suggest you all take a seat, there’s no a whole lot we can do right now.” With that, he walked back into the room.

Thomas wanted to follow after the man, but if he was honest with himself, he was afraid of what he’d find. So, he settled for pacing in front of the doors while the others sank down onto the floor or into chairs.

Gally came into the room, a bag in his hand that looked like it weighed a ton. He didn’t pay any mind or attention to the group of boys around him and instead went straight to the door that Y/N was behind.

The world felt muted. He could hear the cars outside and the chattering slums but it was as if they were muffled by something.

When Gally came back out, the sun was out again, he looked pissed and his knuckles were red. Thomas made his way towards the irate blonde, he didn’t even have to ask before Gally spoke up, and “The bastards actually weaponized the flare.”

“Wait, what? How?”

“Hollowed tips to the bullets.” the blonde responded as he sank down, cracking his knuckles in front of him.

“Wait so is she gonna crank out?” Brenda asked and Thomas watched as Gally shook his head.

“I don’t think so. Usually, cranks have the black veins. She doesn’t have that. She’s on fire though and in pain. She keeps hallucinating that she’s in the maze...” He turns to look at Thomas “She keeps calling for you.”

Thomas swallows, he’s terrified that Gally is wrong and that she’s going to crank out, but he nods his head and asks if he can see her. Gally nods and motions for Thomas to go through the door.

When he opened the door, he saw you laying in a bed that had been stuck in the corner of the room. He stood there, frozen for a moment.

The sound of the gunshot that ended Winston's life made everyone freeze in place. He watched Teresa recover the fastest then Frypan, Minho and Newt. But Y/N stayed where she was. He walked up behind her and called her name but she made no acknowledgement that she heard him. As he reached her, he placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Y/N…” he said softly, “We need to keep moving.”

She stood still for a moment before turning to him, “Tommy - I don’t want to end up like those creatures either. Newts right, if Winston can get infected we should assume -”

“Y/n that’s not-”

“No Tommy, listen to me. It shouldn’t be possible based on that video but Winston just died Tommy. I need you to promise me, if they infect me and I can’t pull the trigger, I need you to do it.”

A whimper pulled him from his memory and he rushed over to the girl. When he neared her, he placed a hand to her chest, feeling for her heartbeat. It was there, slow but steady and he reached down to take her hand.

“Y/N- don’t let this take you. Please.. Please hold on. I promise I’ll make this right. I’m going to find a way to save you.”

Thomas sat in silence in that blasted room. He’d heard Gally arguing with Newt and Frypan but hadn’t bothered to try to figure out what it was. He merely sat there and held her hand. For the most part they left him in the room alone but they would come into the room to check on the girl.

Other people, ones he figured were medics would also come in to check her vitas. She was burning up and there was an occasional whimper that would leave her but she didn’t wake up. Thomas just held her hand. He would bring it to his lips occasionally, kissing her hand. “Please don’t leave me…” he would whisper every now and then. “Come back… I still need you.”

When the sun set again, Newt came knocking on the door. “We’ve gotta go.”

Thomas looked at you, “What if she cranks out Newt?” he whispered. He didn’t want to go but he also knew that he needed to. Getting Teresa meant not only getting to Minho but also getting a cure for you.

Newt merely walked into the room and placed a hand on his friends shoulder. “She won’t,” he said with such conviction that Thomas almost believed him.

Rubbing his eyes, Thomas gut up from the chair he had been in all day. He went and kissed your forehead. “Come back to me… I’m not strong enough to be without you.”

Getting up, he followed Newt out of the Lawrence’s place and back into the lost city. He had to focus on what Newt and Gally were saying. His mind kept wandering back to Y/N, she was in that bed, burning up and Teresa was working for the people that had caused it.

Leaving the train tunnels, the boys went through the old, empty platform that Gally led them through. He then walked through the small courtyard and joined the throngs of people moving throughout the city. He remembered Gally saying that Teresa would take the route that was the straightest to WCKD’s compound.

He pulled his hoodie over his head and tried to be as casual as possible. He wasn’t sure how far he was going to have to go but thankfully, he didn’t have to even cross the street before he saw her. They waited for the light on opposite ends of the intersection and he watched as she turned towards something. He began to worry that he was going to have to cross the street when suddenly Teresa’s eyes connected with his.

Watching the flash of recognition on her face, he turned away. Knowing that the girl would follow. He went back through the courtyard he had come out of and was thinking about Y/N. If Teresa hadn’t betrayed them she wouldn’t be in that bed right now fighting for her life. He picked up his pace, trying to get this over with so that he could go check on the girl.

“Thomas?” he heard Teresa call. A voice that had once soothed him now felt like acid across his skin. Looking over his shoulder, he made the turn into the station Gally had pushed him out of, making sure that she followed.

Once in the station, he moved into the shadows and watched Teresa search for him. His instinct was to yell at her, to find a way to hurt her the way she had hurt Y/N but he couldn’t frighten her off. They needed her for Minho. They needed her for Y/N.

So, stepping out of the shadows he pulled of his hood. She turned to him and said his name, as if it were a prayer falling from her lips.

“Hey Teresa.”

“You shouldn’t be here. If Jansen finds out you’re here..” she begins to say but he cuts her off.

“I’m not staying.” He walked towards her, “It’s just - uh.. I had to see you.” He stops in front of her and it takes everything in him not to reach out and choke the life out of her. Instead, he focuses on Y/N and when he speaks again, his voice is regretful, “I had to ask you something…”

Teresa says nothing, just looking at him. The look on her face is trusting, almost relieved to see him and he can’t help but hate her in that moment. “Do you regret it? What you did to us?”

Teresa, somehow, seems surprised by the question and says “Sometimes. But I did what I thought was right. I’d do it again.”

“Good.” He watches confusion flicker across her face as Gally comes up and throws a sack over her head. They lead Teresa through the tunnels and out of the Last City. Finally, they get back to Lawrence’s compound.

One of the doctors had told you that the boys were back. They set Teresa in one of the rooms downstairs. You made your way and heard Gally talking as you got closer, “Here’s how this is gonna go. We’re gonna ask you some questions and you’re gonna tell us exactly what you know.”

As you walked into the room, you saw Gally approaching Teresa as she appealed to Thomas. Gally slammed a chair down in front of Teresa. “Don’t look at him. Why you lookin at him?”

“She’s expecting him to save her.” you answer for the girl. Six heads whip in your direction and both Newt and Thomas rush towards you, making sure you’re ok. “I’m fine boys. Fevers broken and there’s no crank in sight,” you say as you push them away.

You turn your gaze upon Teresa, “We know you’ve got Minho in the building. So, you’re going to tell us where or so help me, I will find out if you’re immune or just lucky.”

She looks at you and you’re not sure if you look scary or if she feels bad about what she’s done but she turns back to Gally and gives him the information that he needs. As they’re talking, you feel a hand on your bicep.

Turning, you’re not surprised to see Thomas. You use your head to motion that the two of you should walk away from the group. You’re in a hallway and he’s looking at you like he’s afraid to touch you. Reaching out, you cup his face and tilt his head so you can look into his eyes, you can see the worry and the relief. “I’m fine Tommy,” you whisper to him reassuringly.

Moving his hand up, he cradles your smaller hand in his larger one. “You called me Tommy.” he says, his voice soft and filled with awe.

You chuckle softly. “Yes well, I heard you earlier. It’s kind of hard to stay mad at someone when they’re begging you to stay alive. Though you do need to find a way to make all of this right.”

Before you’ve realized it, he’s moved his free hand to the other side of your face and is pressing his lips against yours. It takes you by surprise for a moment and you can feel him pulling away from you. He looks like he’s unsure of himself suddenly and you realize that you hadn’t responded to his kiss.

Biting your lower lip, you bunch his shirt in your fists and pull him towards you. He eagerly meets you and kisses you passionately. You return the kiss with just as much vigor and the two of you only break apart when you feel like your lungs are going to explode. Leaning your forehead on his shoulder, you can’t help the chuckle that leaves your lips.

“What?”

“Just never thought you’d actually kiss me.”

He steps back from you and cups your face again. Looking into your eyes he says, “Y/N you are literally the best thing that has ever happened to me. If it weren’t for you, I don’t know where we would be. I swear to love you all my life.”

You smile at him and turn your head to kiss the inside of his palm before turning back to look at him, “Let’s go get Minho and go home.”

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Tag list: @stiles-o-dylan24 @nicole-lynne @lucifersnipnips

#Reader insert #thomas x reader #thomas tmr #the maze runner #thomas imagines #the maze runner imagines #tmr #my writing

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seriouslyhooked · 5 years

Text

The Same Soul (Part 2)

Available on FF Here and AO3 Here. Chapter 1 Here.

Our world AU where Emma and Killian knew each other as teenagers. Killian was sent to spend a summer with family in America. He met foster kid Emma while there. They fell in love but then he was forced back home and she couldn’t take the memories so she ran away, trying her best to move on from the dreams they’d always hoped for. A chance meeting brings them back together years later, and this time nothing and no one will keep them apart. Rated M.

A/N: Hey everyone! So thank you so much for your initial positivity and excitement about the fic. It’s inspired me to engage with this AU in a way I wasn’t planning originally, and I am so excited to keep writing and exploring this story. That being said, I’m delayed in posting because I had actually written a few more chapters of this fic and then my hard drive on my laptop decided to die. I lost the work, but not the commitment to this story or the idea of where things could go next. As such, this is take two of me trying to write this second chapter, and it actually takes place in the past. I want to explore not only the story of Emma and Killian finding each other again, but the story of how they first found each other too. This chapter is from Emma’s POV again, but rest assured we will be getting Killian’s eventually too. So, with that being said, I really hope you enjoy and I would LOVE to hear what you think. Thanks so much for reading!

Twelve Years Earlier

“And that, ladies, is how you make a personal, one-of-a-kind needlepoint pillow!”

The excitement that those words were said with was almost hard to fathom. In all her life, Emma had never met someone who would get so excited about crafting, never mind in a style that was so out dated, but she couldn’t help but smile at Mrs. Hubbard. Their activities director here in the arts and craft barn was a sweet older woman and she was the only person at this camp that Emma felt really cared about any of them. All of the other adults here either looked at camp as a job, or were alumni themselves and thus were convinced that a summer at Camp Pinewood was the most glorious and glamorous thing a girl of sixteen could partake in. It was an elite, invitation only camp, and only the best families in the area could even consider sending their girls here.

That mentality was understandably off-putting to Emma, since she was hardly glamorous by any stretch of the imagination. She was a foster kid, had been since infancy, and in the past sixteen years she’d been in nearly 20 different homes or facilities. When she was still little, it was mostly family placements, and a few had even been promising, allowing Emma to really believe she may someday find a real family to call her own. But they never worked out in the end, and for the past ten years Emma had been relegated to mostly group homes, all of which were noisy and cramped and stressful. The most recent one was the worst she’d been in yet, but it did have one benefit – an eccentric wealthy benefactress who provided a scholarship for any girl with good grades to come out here to Pinewood for the summer.

At first Emma had thought that offer was so stupid. Who would want a scholarship for camp? As a kid in the system there were about a thousand things she needed before she needed a summer trip to one of the richest neighborhoods in the country, but after a few weeks in her boisterous and bustling group home in the heart of the city, Emma was desperate for a summer away from the noise and the active dislike of her fellow lost girls. Emma didn’t fit in with the other foster kids she’d come in contact with, having been written off as uppity even though she wasn’t. At first, some of the girl’s who were staples at her group home had thought to pick on her, but everyone had largely stopped messing with her after Emma responded to a fight with a defensive skill none of them were expecting. She didn’t like to get physical, but Emma could hold her own, and she wasn’t about to let anyone mess with her when she’d done nothing to provoke it. But despite showing that she was strong and capable, the others still iced her out, making sure Emma knew that she was neither wanted nor accepted in any way. She was a certified loner, and though that sad fact seemed to be transferring to this camp too, at least Emma had space and fresh air and some peace and quiet to go along with her loneliness.

Camp Pinewood was, according to everyone both running and attending the camp, the most exclusive summer commitment a girl could have. It ran only during the day, because it seemed that hanging too far in the woods overnight was a line a majority of these girls would never cross, but it boasted all kinds of famous alumni. There were politicians, judges, even a few actresses and other famous faces. But to Emma the exclusive club part felt more than a little out of reach. She highly doubted that her past was going to be completely washed away by rubbing shoulders with a bunch of American heiresses. No one had actually asked about her situation, and she didn’t think any of them realized she was here on scholarship from the woman whose family had originally gifted this town with the land the camp resided on, but they also knew she wasn’t one of them, and there was nothing worse to rich people than a lack of status. Most girls had come here with built in friends and enemies, and while they went about their business, Emma just observed, taking in how foreign a way of life this was before returning each night to her home for the summer – a small bedroom in the staff house at the estate of the woman who’d granted her the scholarship.

Emma still hadn’t met the unconventional old woman who made this summer away possible, and she doubted she would at any point this trip, especially since it seemed no other girl from her group home had ever actually qualified for this scholarship. Emma was the first ever to take them up on their generosity and it showed. There were surprisingly few rules for a sixteen-year-old ward of the state, and very little in the ways of entertainment for one. The housekeeper, Mrs. Dearly, had simply told Emma three things: breakfast was at eight each morning, dinner was at six thirty in the evening, and she was not to have any boys on the property. After that thirty second introduction, Emma had been shown her bedroom and pretty much left to her own devices. She saw Mrs. Dearly at meal times, but the woman was always so busy with running the estate along with her husband, that there was never much in the way of reciprocal conversation. Emma didn’t mind too much though. She’d rather have the distance between them all. It was a hopeless dream to think she could stay here when the summer was over, and if they were nicer it would be harder to keep her guard up from what would undoubtedly be substantial disappointment.

“Now I know what you’re all thinking,” Mrs. Hubbard continued, cutting through Emma’s unhappy thoughts and pulling her back to the activity at hand. “You are wondering who you should give such a thoughtful gift to. Now sure, these pillows are great to keep, and there are any number of people you could gift them too, but a good choice might be a special someone in your life. I know a few of you have boys you’re sweet on, and any good beau would love a pillow like this!”

Emma bit back a wince at the thought of sharing this terrible pillow with anyone. She had absolutely no artistic ability, and while she’d been able to follow the structural instructions well, creating a strong and sturdy pillow, her needlework left a lot to be desired. She’d been trying to make a dog, but if she had to choose a mammal that it looked most like she’d say it was an elephant. Well, an elephant if elephants were kind of weirdly wobbly along the back and had some legs that were longer than the others. Okay, fine, she had, at best, created an amoeba like shape, but still she wouldn’t cut into Mrs. H’s enthusiasm. The woman was so nice that Emma didn’t have the heart to tell her that even if this was a fantastic pillow it would still be weird to give to a guy. Boys her age didn’t want handmade and carefully stitched decorative pieces, and honestly, Emma struggled to think that there had ever been a man in any time or place who would welcome such a gift as a sign of affection.

“Jesus is she crazy?” One of the ruder campers in the back asked in a harsh whisper. Emma made a point not to ruffle feathers, especially in a new place, but there had been a number of times where this girl in particular, Catherine Parker, had tested that strength. “I know she’s practically prehistoric, but she doesn’t really think we’d give these to anyone does she? Talk about delusional.”

“Yeah, totally nutso,” one girl responded.

“Seriously disturbed,” another agreed.

“I don’t even know why she still works here to be honest. I mean I know she’s been here forever, but at some point we’ve got to bury the fossils, you know?”

Emma couldn’t help the eye roll that escaped as she listened to this ridiculously ageist and asinine commentary, but she made sure to let it loose when Mrs. H was looking elsewhere. She didn’t want their instructor to think this was aimed at her or her ideas, because no matter how out there they were, Emma still appreciated them. All of Mrs. Hubbard’s suggestions came from a good place, and Emma would never disrespect that when she knew how rare it was for adults to really try their best to do right by kids their age. Luckily, before her peers could say anything else that Mrs. H might hear, the camp bell rang, alerting them all that this particular class was over and that the day at camp was now done with it. It being Friday, Emma knew that most of these girls were off to extravagant ‘barbecues’ (AKA what rich people called fancy parties as long as they were outside during the summer) or beach-side soirees until Monday came, but Emma would just be hanging around. Maybe she’d take a real walk around the town, or head to the public ocean access (which was still nice, but too pedestrian for the rich girls at this camp apparently), but whatever she ended up doing, Emma knew it would be a solo adventure, just as all of her outings tended to be.

The rest of the girls practically sprinted from the room and to the parking lot where their drivers awaited them. It was a mad scramble to get out of here each day, since no one ever seemed to carpool (honestly, even pitching the idea would probably make Emma a social pariah), but Emma wasn’t in the same rush as them. She’d be walking the back trail to the estate, which was directly adjacent to the camp property. She had no strict curfew and no place to be, and she planned to make her fifteen-minute walk back leisurely and relaxing. Emma wanted to enjoy the summer heat and the sun a little more. This wasn’t a forever place for her, and come the fall when she was headed back to school, she wanted to be sure she’d soaked as much of it in as she could.

“Thanks for the lesson, Mrs. H,” Emma said by way of goodbye, and she was taken aback again by the fact that this woman always appeared shocked when she said thank you. Sure, Emma hadn’t noticed anyone else doing the same when a class ended, despite their ‘good breeding’ and etiquette lessons, but still, it was basic politeness.

“You’re very welcome, my dear. Any fun weekend plans?” Emma shook her head at the question and Mrs. H only offered a smile instead of anything like pity, which Emma appreciated. “Well good things have a way of finding us in their time. I’m sure you’ll enjoy yourself, Emma. See you next week, all right?”

Emma agreed and headed out, finding the path towards her summer quarters with ease, and setting out on the solitary journey. It was quiet out here, but also not at all. The ambient hum of the natural world was so different to anything Emma ever experienced back in the city. The birds, the bugs, and the breeze all played a musical part in their own way as the sun filtered in through the canopy above. This forest was bursting with life, and some smaller animals filtered in and out her path. If she pushed away reality for a little bit, Emma could almost pretend she had a completely different life. Out here, in the mostly untouched woods, she could be part of a totally separate world, one with knights and pirates, kings and queens, or whatever else she wished. This could be a journey through the past or a jaunt into the fairytales she’d secretly loved as a kid. It was the kind of place her imagination could go wild, and after spending so many years just trying to survive, it was amazing to have the space to just dream of new places and new adventures to embark on.

In the midst of these daydreams, however, a noise sounded out in the woods around her that startled Emma. It sounded like something was running in her direction, something big. She heard the crunching the earth below as feet pounded on the ground, and a foreboding rustling through bushes. Emma had very little time to prepare for what it could be, and her first thought was that maybe it was a bear or something. She didn’t think they were very common around these parts, but what did she know? Yet no sooner had she really begun to edge towards panic, than the culprit behind her worry came into the light. It was a dog in the end, granted a really big dog (she hadn’t been so far off with the bear guess in terms of size), but one that was friendly if the wagging tale and huge doggy smile were anything to go off of.

“Hey there, buddy. Aren’t you cute?” Emma asked and this seemed to make the dog even happier. It came lumbering towards her, pressing its head into her side and Emma laughed, crouching down to give the dog some love.

She’d always adored dogs ever since she was a little girl, and though she never spoke these wishes out loud, a dog was absolutely part of her dream for a family and a home. Kids in the system weren’t allowed pets, but Emma knew that they should be given them. Animals could go a long way in making life less lonely. But instead of dwelling on that, Emma just enjoyed this fleeting moment with… she looked at the collar on this big beautiful brown beast, but there was no tag and no name she could read.

“Are you lost, girl?” Emma asked and unwillingly her hope began to rise. Maybe this dog needed a home too, but just as she asked, she heard sharp whistle and a voice sounding out further in the woods.

“Missy! Here, girl!”

“So not lost, just hiding, huh Missy?” The dog barked happily and Emma couldn’t help smiling, even if she was a little sad at the fact that this dog would have to go soon. She was just so cute and affectionate, and Emma was so pulled in that she must have missed the sound of approaching footsteps.

“Oh thank God, you found her. She’s not usually a runner but she took off and…”

The stranger’s words faded away, and Emma turned to look at who had said them. When she did her heart clutched in her chest. Holy cow this guy was cute, and Emma had simply not been expecting it. Her brain hadn’t gone so far as to sketch out what she thought Missy’s owner would look like, but even if it had, she never could have made this. His hair was dark, and he was taller than her and maybe a year or two older. He looked strong and capable, carrying himself with a confidence that was quiet but pronounced, and Emma’s eyes moved across his chest to his arms which were muscled, tone, and tan from the start of summer. As Emma took him in, she couldn’t help thinking he was beautiful and far more handsome than any boy she’d ever met. Hell, maybe she was still dreaming, and this boy wasn’t real at all. He looked like something from the pages of a storybook, a tall, dark, and handsome hero just waiting to swoop in and save the day. But while Emma felt spellbound by this man on the whole, his eyes were the thing she kept coming back to. They were the most striking about him, all intense and blue and almost magical, and currently they were looking at her with this depth of emotion Emma couldn’t understand. For whatever reason he seemed just as taken aback by her as she was of him, but she didn’t get why. Emma knew she was just ordinary, but this guy… well, he made her feel like maybe she was more all along and simply didn’t realize it.

“Uh, hi,” Emma finally said after they’d both been staring for a little longer than they should. “You must be Missy’s owner.”

“Killian, Killian Jones,” he said immediately though she hadn’t intentionally asked him to introduce himself. Then he offered his hand and Emma was surprised. People their age didn’t usually greet one another this way, but she could tell he wasn’t from here. His voice was coated by a delicious sounding accent. British maybe? Emma didn’t know. All she knew was that she liked it. A lot.

“Emma Swan.”

“A beautiful name for a beautiful woman,” he said, and though Emma didn’t detect any malice or artifice when he said that, her walls automatically came up again. Sweet as the words were, it was a total line, and a pretty cheesy one at that. Never mind the fact that it made the butterflies in her stomach go all kinds of crazy to be called beautiful by a boy like him. She didn’t have the time or the inclination to get to know a player, and he was probably a big one based on this game he was throwing her way.

“Right. Well I’m gonna go. See ya, Missy,” she said before pivoting in the direction of the estate.

“Wait!”

The word from Killian was desperate, and it halted Emma in her tracks. She looked back at him and she could see his regret all over his face, and she couldn’t explain why, but she found it really endearing. Maybe it was the fact that he wasn’t ashamed of how much he felt. He was completely open, and Emma found that comforting in ways she never expected. As someone who was so rarely candid with her feelings, Emma saw his bravery in being so and yearned for the courage to be that way too.

“I’m sorry about that, I know that was bad. I mean I meant it, you are beautiful, but I know that’s a corny thing to say and, well, I just don’t usually do this. You know... this,” he said as he waved between them. He must have realized that his hand gesturing wasn’t actually an explanation of what he was thinking so he cursed and then he apologized for cursing before accidentally cursing again.

Emma watched as Killian ran a hand through his hair, mussing it up further while also signaling how flustered he was. At the sight of this nervous tic, Emma found herself smiling, and when he looked completely shocked at that, she couldn’t help but laugh. It was funny after all, because here was this guy who from one look seemed out of her league, but he was bumbling about and falling all over himself over her. Her, Emma Swan! That was just wild, but Emma found she really loved it despite her lingering hesitations.

“You’re not from here, are you Killian?”

“What gave me away?” He asked with a responding grin that made Emma’s pulse quicken.

“You mean aside from the accent and the handshake?” she joked and he nodded. “I can just tell. You’re not as put together as the people here.”

He looked stricken for a moment and Emma rushed to clarify. “I didn’t mean it like that. Not in a bad way, it’s just I spend all day at this camp with girls who are so concerned with how they look and how they act, and you’re different. It’s refreshing, I think.”

“You think?”

“Well the jury is still out after that line you laid on me.”

“God that was bad. I’ll never live that down, will I?” he asked, but Emma could sense the humor in his words as he groaned at his own badly coordinated introductions.

“Do you want to?” She asked, genuinely curious.

“Yes,” he replied seriously. “If given the chance, I would very much like to make it up to you, Emma.”

“Okay, then prove it.”

So he did. Over the next hour or so, Killian rose to the challenge as they walked together on different paths through the woods, and Emma couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed so much in her life. It turned out Killian was really charming and witty, along with being distractingly handsome, and when he wasn’t so overwhelmed with first meeting someone, he was so naturally himself. It amazed Emma how comfortable they became with each other in such a short amount of time, just talking and playing with Missy when she demanded it, but Emma realized part of the wonder of all of this was because she’d been craving this kind of connection for so long. She’d never had a friend, at least not a really good one, and though she was certainly attracted to Killian, she had to admit that she also liked him for more than his looks. He had a great sense of humor, and they sparred verbally more than once, making Emma feel not only like someone understood her, but that they really saw who she was when so few people ever had.

“I hope you won’t think this is a line, Emma,” Killian said after they’d had a solid laugh at a story Killian told her about him and his brother getting in trouble when they were kids. “But I have to say that even though we’ve only just met, I feel like I’ve known you a long time.”

“It’s like we’re kindred spirits,” Emma said in agreement, quoting one of her favorite stories and then realizing Killian probably didn’t get the reference. “It’s from a book -,”

“Aye, Anne of Green Gables,” Killian filled in and Emma was surprised, and her shock only seemed to amuse Killian. “My Mum read it to us when we were kids. It was one of her favorites.”

A quiet moment fell between them, and though Killian didn’t say anything else, Emma could tell that conversation about his mother was in some ways painful to him. Emma would never pry, but she found that she really wanted to know what it was that Killian was going through. If she could help in any way she would, but she didn’t want to push him. Emma knew first-hand how hard it was to talk about the scars that she carried, and nothing hurt worse than being forced to revisit bad times because someone else demanded it.

They sat there quietly for a little bit, and though Emma kept expecting an awkwardness to descend upon them, it never came. It was nice to have someone there, even if they weren’t talking, and Emma hoped Killian felt the same way. He said as much a few minutes later, and Emma was thrilled to know that he agreed with her assessment, but unfortunately she couldn’t linger in this new found connection for much longer. The sun was starting to sink lower in the sky, and soon enough it would be dinner time at the estate. She didn’t really know what would happen if she missed the meal, but she thought it best not to find out, especially so early in the summer.

When she broke the sad news that she should be heading back, Killian offered to walk her, and though she told him he didn’t have to, Emma didn’t fight him when he insisted. His determination to see her home safely made her feel special and important, and Emma knew that despite a bumpy first impression, Killian was a really remarkable person. No one had ever been this thoughtful towards her or had shown her this kind of attention, and instead of running like she normally would when someone tried to get close to her, she decided to give Killian a chance, no matter what hurt may come of it in the future. The only problem was that their walk back was over too soon, and Emma found herself wishing she had some way to make this moment last longer or to ensure that they could somehow see each other again.

By the time they arrived at the gate outside the staff house, Emma was still struggling to find something to say. From here she could see the window to her room and the many others in this large house. But ultimately her hands were tied. She couldn’t invite Killian in; that was like the one rule here, and it was one she couldn’t break and expect to stay. She also couldn’t ask him for his number because she didn’t have a phone and she was terrified he’d ask her why, prompting her to have to tell him about who she really was and what her life was really like. Damn it! Why did this have to be so hard?

“What’s your opinion on fairs?” Killian asked randomly, and Emma raised a brow even while the corners of her mouth began to curl upwards.

“Fairs? Like with the games and fried food and Ferris wheels?” She asked and he nodded. “Well I don’t know, really. I’ve never actually been to one.”

“Never?” he asked, but before Emma could grow uncomfortable with her admission he pivoted, as if he could read her discomfort and wanted to ease it. “Well I haven’t been to one in a long time, and never in the States. But I was walking around town earlier, and I heard some people talking about one that will be here this weekend. I thought maybe you’d like to go.”

“With you?” Emma asked and Killian cleared his throat before nodding.

“Aye, with me,” he said and Emma nearly sighed at the way his words washed over her with that dreamy accent of his. Still, she took a moment to consider.

This felt like a really big deal. Emma was so used to being alone and she’d built up defenses against other people so that she didn’t get attached. Seeing Killian again would put those boundaries up at risk, but even now Emma knew he’d made an impact. In fact, he’d created such a good memory in her life just from their meeting today that she didn’t think she’d ever forget him. And as for her instincts, which she had always trusted, they were screaming at her to say yes, because if she didn’t she’d always wonder what-if, and she didn’t want to wonder. For once, Emma wanted to know what it was like to invest in someone else, and to live a little instead of just surviving, and she felt like Killian was a person she could trust enough to try and do so.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

His responding smile was so bright and animated that Emma almost couldn’t take it. She tried shifting her stance a bit to try and cover up some of her own excitement, but Missy had crept up on her while Killian had been asking about the fair, and in order to avoid stepping on her paws, Emma jolted the other way. Unfortunately, Emma’s sense of coordination caught up with her actions too late, and she stumbled more than a little bit. It would have been mortifying, but Killian’s hands came to steady her, pulling her towards him as they did, and Emma felt warmth and electricity springing through her. Her eyes flew up to his and she saw the undeniable look of yearning in his cerulean gaze, and without any words said between them she knew that he felt this too. He was just as affected by this as she was, and it felt like magic. She swallowed harshly, barely breathing, but not daring to move at the risk of breaking the spell that swirled around them.

“Careful, love,” Killian whispered with a gentle sweetness and a hint of swagger that left his blue eyes sparkling. “We’ve a date tomorrow, and I need you in top shape. It would be a shame to miss anything when it’ll be your first time.”

“So it is a date?” Emma blurted out.

She felt her cheeks flush when she realized what she’d asked aloud, but Killian only smiled before he boldly brought his hand up to brush against the place where her blush colored her freckled skin. His fingertips lingered for only a few seconds before curling a lock of her hair that had escaped her ponytail behind her ear. Emma shivered at the gentle caress, and her lips parted ever so slightly. Jesus, how was this possible? Sometimes he was flustered and a little clumsy in his manners, but Killian could also be this composed and seriously sexy figure. She felt like her heart would fly straight out of her chest it was hammering so harshly, but he was totally in control and confident almost to a cocky degree. It was maddening and dizzying, but also filled Emma with a thrill that she adored and wanted more of.

“Aye, love. It’s a date. Can I pick you up here, say seven o’clock?”

Emma nodded, and though words failed her for a moment, she knew her smile must say it all to him so clearly. She was excited, more excited than she had ever been, and that outweighed all the nerves she had from this being an actual date. She’d never actually been on a date before and she was terrified in some ways. But for whatever reason, she knew that it was worth facing the fear. Whatever happened, Killian would see her through, and though it defied rationality and logic, Emma held close to that fact she just knew to be true.

“I guess I should go in,” Emma hedged and though she could see the little flecks of regret in his eyes, Killian nodded. He stepped back, removing his hands from her body and leaving her missing the sensation of having his skin on hers. “See you tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” he agreed, and Emma smiled, delighted at the promise at all that was to come.

As she walked back to her summer home, Emma appreciated that neither of them actually said the word “goodbye,” because she hated to think this was over. In her lifetime, Emma had experienced too many goodbyes. People always seemed to leave her, and though she’d largely hardened herself from the pain of those farewells, Emma didn’t think it would be so easy with someone like Killian. He sparked something in her, something that had been dormant for maybe all her life, and if he left she worried that spark would leave with him. Even as she headed through the wrought iron gate and towards the house, Emma wished they didn’t need to wait until tomorrow to be together again, and she couldn’t help pausing at the door and stealing another look at him. He was still there with Missy, as she knew he would be, waiting to see her safely inside, his gaze never having left her though he could have already headed home. In that moment, Emma knew he was choosing her, putting her first, and making her feel like she was the most precious thing to him. That was huge and heavy for having just met someone, but Killian was right before – it didn’t feel like they’d only just connected. To Emma it felt like this was always meant to be, and like she’d been unknowingly waiting for this all her short but lonely life.

Post-Note: So there we have it. As I mentioned, I had actually written a version of this chapter before and I am so bummed that I lost it when my computer glitched out. But that being said, I feel like this version still accomplishes what I wanted. I really wanted you all to see what Emma’s life has been like and what her situation is before meeting Killian, because it will certainly change now that fate has brought them together. That being said, next chapter will definitely be from Killian’s POV so we can get some of his story too. Not sure when that will be posted, but doing my best to keep my muse chatty and engaged. Anyway, thanks so much for reading and I hope you’ll all let me know what you think!!

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mmmmfood · 5 years

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soft ask ☆彡

thanku @wonderlustlucas iloveuuuuu!

what’s the smell of your shampoo?

coconut oil n cocoa butter

what’s your favorite time of day?

4:30am-6am! especially on weekends bc there's nothing really going on and it's a good time for me to collect my thought n myself :-) also the sunrise!

what’s your aesthetic?

uh minimalism, lots of white, soft/faded warm tones, also plants, embroidery, old victorian houses, gardens, geometrics, & libraries, but i think i have like 22 different aesthetics so this could go onnn

what do you like the most about the beach?

listening to the waves, seeing little children play in the sand or in the water, and digging my barefeet in the sand

what is a song you cried to before?

how deep is your love by bee gees

(n honourable mention: dear dream by nct dream my cousin got worried for me bc she had no context hehe)

what do you worry about constantly?

me and my family's future

what are some relaxing tips for your followers?

put your face in the corner between two pillows, one upright and one flat lol i find it comforting

take the time to make playlists for certain moods, situations, people, etc. or listen to a bunch of new songs and finding new favourites

go out for a stroll in the early morning or late evening

do anything that you're passionate about or finding new hobbies! like recently i've gotten into cross stitching bc i got my mom to teach me :-)

cooking or baking while blasting music, n for extra relaxation, any lofi music if it's ur cup of tea!

watch a good, old sunset/sunrise

what is your favorite from each of these senses?

sight - the smiling faces of close friends and family, but a close second is the sunrise

touch - so back in grade eight i made this wooden chopping board and i worked s o h a r d to make it all nice n smooth, which it is, so that

hearing - music! but specifically, harmonies, rich, smooth vocals, and major 7th chords!

taste - of something i baked with my best friend

smell - my mom's scent. whenever i hug her i tell her she smells good lol, n she always replies with "of course!"

what are some things that make you tear up?

the thought of my parents forgetting me, smile flower by seventeen, and fond memories of the philippines with my baby cousins

what is one alternative reality you’d want to be in?

any soulmate au! edit: ATLA!

what are most troubles you face daily?

uhhh my fear of failure, overworking myself, but then not being productive enough (in my standards at least), overthinking, n worrying abt my family

what is one scene of a book that made you really sad?

when i was young, like grade 2 or smt, i was reading chicken soup for the soul n one story was about a homeless man choosing to give his only companion, his dog, to a better family :'(

say something to all of your followers:

hi hi! i genuinely appreciate u all! i've little idea as to why u chose to follow me, but i hope that u enjoy my cOntEnT or whatever hehe! i really wish that i could talk to each! n! every! one! of! u! but i'm kinda maybe definitely shy n afraid :-( but pls feel free to start a conversation with me or send an ask or smt! any form of interaction w any of u warms my heart! anyways, i love n treasure u! pls take care of urself! i wish u the absolute best in all that u do!

<3 <3 <3

#gabbi got tagged #about moi

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laurelsofhighever · 5 years

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The Falcon and the Rose Ch. 31 - Arrival

Chapter 1 on AO3 This chapter on AO3 Masterpost here

Fifteenth day of Justinian, 9:32 Dragon

It took the Siren’s Call another two days to sail around the northern points of the Storm Islands and reach Dunedyn, stronghold of the Clayne. The weather had stayed clear, with stiff winds that pushed the ship onwards through waters that grew ever busier with foreign ships, traders and humble fishing vessels alike that gave them a wide berth or yelled cheery halloos across the white-tipped waves. Now, anchored south of the hold in the deep, sheltered waters of the Lee, the settlement’s brightly painted buildings stood out like jewels against an emerald hillside, the rope of a rich necklace draped over contours of rock leading down towards the harbour. That would be the ship’s final destination, but only once the most important members of the delegation went ashore and made their formal greetings to the Storm Giant and his retainers.

Already dressed in her finery, Rosslyn stood by the bowsprit, her eyes cast out over a trio of fishing trawlers closing their nets around a shoal of mackerel, and the birds above them taking advantage of the easy meal. Lilac and gold, the morning sky warmed her face, wrapping her in isolation from the commotion on the deck as the longboats were loosed from their moorings and lowered over the side. Somewhere close by, Cuno, roused from his torpor by the activity, was barking at a seagull that had had the audacity to perch on one of the port lanterns. She paid him no heed. In less than an hour she would be face to face with her grandfather again, would have to look him in the eye and remember she was the one who had gone chasing glory and left the Seawolf to die.

“Guess that answers my question,” said a voice at her elbow. She blinked and turned to see Tabris, her hair braided and clothes washed, but still with bare feet stained by streaks of tar. ”No one with a face that puckered like an arsehole ain’t nervous.”

Rosslyn scowled at the description, but shrugged it off and turned away.

“Riiiiight,” the elf huffed. ”Reassuring, that is.”

Rosslyn’s mouth quirked in a humourless smile. “I wouldn’t have thought I’d be your first choice for reassurance.”

“You know what they say about beggars,” came the tart reply.

“What’s on your mind?”

There was a pause as Tabris clambered onto the rail, chewing her lips in a rare show of deliberation as she decided her answer. Even despite the added height, she came in almost a head shorter than the human woman.

“See, I’ve been tryin’ to figure,” she said once she was settled. “You shems have got enough fancy words and blood ties between you, you don’t need me to get your ships. So what am I doin’ here? You got me out of baldy-whatshisface’s clutches, and I heard the tellin’-off you gave the princeling, but don’t go thinking I’m fooled that you’re doing this for the elves.”

“You’re right, I’m not,” Rosslyn answered bluntly. “I’m doing this to get revenge on the cur that murdered my family, and to stop Loghain bringing in reinforcements that he can use to win the war, so that I won’t be hanged at the end of it.” She tilted a wry look at over her shoulder when the elf opened her mouth to speak and closed it again just as quickly. ”Was that not the response you expected?”

“Got the arrogance about right.”

“What does it matter if I care, so long as our goals align?” she asked. “You care, and that’s why you’re here – it’s why you tried to rescue your kin and then ran all the way to Redcliffe, through a war-torn country, on the off-chance the king would help you when you couldn’t do it alone. The Clayne will listen to you, don’t worry about that.”

“I’m worried about after,” Tabris sneered when Rosslyn once more turned her attention to the sea. “What happens to me after I’ve cheeped like a sparrow for you to get your soldiers? I killed a shem lordling.”

“The king has pardoned you.”

The elf scoffed and tossed her hair out of her eyes. “And of course that makes all this –” she gestured vaguely to her ears “– magically disappear. You lot have no clue – and don’t think I didn’t notice about not being invited to this little beach party you’re having. What are you even looking at out there?”

With a sigh, Rosslyn raised her hand and pointed to a speck above the circling gulls, which grew out of the glare of the sun like an after-image. “It’s a gwyrling – they’re like griffons, but smaller. It’s rare to see one, especially at this time of day. It must have hatchlings in the cliffs.”

The speck solidified into a creature with narrow, barred wings and a wickedly curved beak. In the space of a heartbeat, it swerved on a point and dived among the flock of gulls and they scattered, screaming in alarm. One, weighed down with the prize of a fish between its claws, dodged too slowly, and didn’t even have time to cry out as the gwyrling punched down and struck it across the back of the neck. The bird went limp, the fish wriggled free and splashed back into the water, and the gwyrling beat back up into the air with a flick of its long, leonine tail.

“That was really something,” Tabris drawled.

“The Clayne have augurs who would certainly think so,” Rosslyn replied, betraying a hint of impatience. “They read patterns in the flight of birds and use it to interpret the will of the Lady of the Skies.”

“You believe in that tosh? What future gets predicted by that?”

“That would depend.” She smirked. “Are you the gull, the gwyrling, or the fish?”

“Your Ladyship!” Morrence hopped up to the deck, looking small in the light leather armour she and the others had adopted for the journey. Her hair too, was braided out of her eyes, a far cry from the practical tail she usually wore. “We’re almost ready to go, but His Highness is still below.” She spared a cool glance for Tabris and back to wait for orders.

Rosslyn glanced to see the first of the boats being lowered over the side. “I’ll see what’s keeping him. And as for you,” she added, lowering her voice as she turned back to Tabris. “The sea doesn’t care what you are, and the gods don’t care if you believe in them or not. They help those who help themselves, and out here, there aren’t any alienage walls to hold you back.”

“Surprised you managed to get all those fancy words out around that silver spoon stuck in your gob.”

Alistair stood in front of the mirror borrowed from the captain’s quarters, trying not to sweat in his new clothes. The stuffy cabin didn’t help, but it was Brantis fussing with the lay of his sleeves, shooting questions about what he should do in increasingly specific and unlikely situations, that really had him agitated. With the outcome of the war hanging on the success of the mission, and Rosslyn’s grandfather being the person he had to impress, anything shy of tripping over his own boots and falling flat on his face would be reason to celebrate.

“And with which hand should you give an item on the table, should you be asked for it?” Brantis asked in his reedy voice.

“Is that a likely scenario?” How many people just casually asked royalty to pass the salt?

“It does to prepare for all eventualities, Highness,” came the officious reply.

Sighing, Alistair turned his attention back to his outfit, to the contemplation of whether the rose pattern stitched into his jerkin was too much. As far as he could tell in the dim light, the red and gold suited the tone of his skin, and set off well against the bright cream of his shirt. He had already tested the practicality of the ensemble. Given that it lacked the ostentation favoured by those like Franderel, he still had enough range of movement to be able to fight without tearing a seam if the situation called for it, though the heavy, fur-trimmed mantle he had been forced into might make him choke with the heat first.

He paused on his reflection, letting his eyes drift over the snarling shapes tooled into the rich leather. He never thought to sport the War Dogs, the symbol of the bloodline that had once discarded him, and yet there they were, one on each shoulder, offering a legitimacy that for the first time felt like something lighter than a curse.

Brantis was still fussing.

“Surely I’m ready now? I’m really not sure how much more preparation I can take. Surely it would be better to… uh…”

Rosslyn stood in the doorway. His eyes dragged up and down her form, drinking in every detail.

“How are things proceeding?” she asked as she glided into the room. A varnished box canted against her hip, tucked under her arm.

“Quite well, Your Ladyship,” Brantis replied. “Quite well. His Highness will do us proud, if he will remember his manners.”

Alistair blinked. “What?”

He had been too busy staring to listen. The grey shimmer of her light coat brought out the sharp colour of her eyes, the cut of the material flared out from swaying hips, the deep blue inner lining a backdrop for white doeskin breeches that clung to deep curves and lithe, strong legs. When he managed to pull his gaze from that sight, it caught instead on the set of her shoulders and the way the open collar accentuated the fine tendons of her throat. She turned her head and her hair, pouring artfully over one shoulder, gleamed gold where a wreath of aurum leaves curled around from a knot at the nape of her neck. The whole effect was understated but striking, a casual display of power leagues away from the ill-fitting dress she had worn on Summerday.

“… and your esteemed grandfather will of course have the final word.”

They had carried on an entire conversation without him. Glancing between Brantis’ sidelong, exasperated looks and Rosslyn’s dry amusement, he felt heat flare all the way to the tips of his ears.

“Will you leave us?” she asked the chamberlain, with a touch of pink in her own pale cheeks.

Brantis bowed and hobbled away, and the two of them were alone. She crossed to a bulkhead and set down the box she had brought with her, which had completely slipped his attention in his ogling. Curious, he made out her personal sigil on the lid – a Falcon gripping a Laurel branch in its talons – but she had already crossed the space to stand in front of him and his throat dried up too much to ask about it.

“How are you feeling?” she asked.

He tried to laugh. “Well, right now I’m not quite sure whether the eels rolling around in my stomach are there because of seasickness or nerves…” Or how stunning you look. He swallowed. To cover the treacherous line of his thoughts, he turned back to the mirror and brushed his hands down his front. “This lot could feed a family for a month – I feel like such a fool in it.”

“Ah, but you don’t look like one,” she pointed out, grinning. “That’s the important thing.”

“Ha-ha.”

Fighting back her smirk, she appraised his attire with a critical eye, then came forward to readjust the seams Brantis had been playing with for half an hour, loosening them enough to give him room to breathe again. In theory.

“It suits you.” Her hand lingered on his chest, the heat of her palm seeping through the fabric.

He coughed. “There’s, uh, not as much gilt as I was expecting.”

“Only merchants and Rivaini aristocrats weight themselves down with gold,” she chided gently. “Nobility should be seen in how you carry yourself, and there’s more besides – patronage of the arts, appreciation of craftsmanship, the cultivation of taste… actually, on that note, I have something for you – a gift.” Her glance darted away to the box on the bulkhead and he found himself following her as she went to retrieve it.

“Rosslyn…”

“I meant to give it to you later, on the island, but I thought… it might give you some extra confidence.” She chuckled, the smooth certainty of a moment before faltering as she held it out to him. “It seems silly to say that out loud.”

“Not at all! This – this is for me?” he checked. “Really? I – wow, I don’t – I mean…” He could count on one hand the number of gifts he had received in his life, and the number that had come unprompted… well, that required significantly fewer fingers.

She shrugged, flustered. “It’s nothing too grand, but it’s a tradition for vassals of the realm to give a gift to the heir apparent once their status is made official, and when we were delayed in Invermathy, I realised it completely slipped my mind. There’s an artisan there who used to work for my family and –”

He reached out to touch her shoulder, to snap her out of her sudden nervousness, and the edge of his thumb accidentally brushed her neck – he never expected the skin there to be so smooth.

“You still need to open it,” she said in a small voice.

He started, cleared his throat, snapped his gaze to the box resting on his palm and bit his lip as he flicked the catch on the lid. A gift, entirely for him.

He stared. Nestled in a cushion of blue velvet was a pair of leather vambraces embossed with intertwining shapes dyed in a multitude of colours. He recognised dragons, and eagles, and forefront of them all a red War Dog rampant with a gold-petalled rose caught in its snarling teeth. The workmanship was exquisite, almost too perfect to wear for fear of damage, the tooling so precise it seemed as if the figures had been persuaded rather than worked into the leather.

“These must have been expensive,” he blurted.

Rosslyn’s face, an instant before so open and anxious waiting for his approval, closed off, a sour line pulling at her mouth.

“A gift is worth more than its base value, don’t you think?” she asked.

He shook his head. “I didn’t mean to imply – I mean, I know with the war and everything you’ve had to –”

“The condition of my finances is none of your concern,” she snapped. “I wasn’t thinking of the expense.”

“No, I know - Rosslyn…” He sighed, staring across the chasm of space that had suddenly risen between them, without her moving a muscle. “I’m sorry I offended you. So much for the start of an illustrious diplomatic career, don’t you think?”

She searched his face, stung pride warring with doubt and something else that flitted by too quickly for him to name.

“What did you mean to say?” The question was teased out slowly, deliberately.

“Only that…” Maker, let him get the right words this time. “Nobody’s ever thought of me enough to – to do something like this for me. I only ever got things that were practical before – I used to go to bed at night and pray to the Maker to make me grow taller so the housekeeper would be forced to make me a new shirt, but it didn’t work nearly as often as I hoped.” He chuckled, but the tale only made her brows contract. “This… I am truly grateful – truly – I don’t know how else to express my gratitude, I…”

“You like them, then?”

He nodded. “They’re… Would you help me put them on?”

She smiled, the tension disappeared from her shoulders, and everything was alright again as she raised her hands to take the box from him. The vambraces lifted easily out of the velvet pile, stiff and polished and smelling of beeswax, with just the right amount of give in the straps. Rosslyn returned and brushed his hands away so she could do up the knots for him, working the laces through the eyeholes with a deftness that had Alistair transfixed. When the first one was fitted to her satisfaction, she turned to the other, and his free hand settled on her waist, supple leather and samite warm under his fingertips.

“What is that?” he asked.

She glanced up. “What?”

“That smell, some kind of flowers – in your hair.”

“Oh.” She tucked a phantom strand behind her ear, biting her lip. “It’s jasmine.”

“Jasmine,” he repeated as she went back to her task. “It’s nice.”

“Thanks… All done.”

He held up his hand to view her handiwork. The knots were neat, the vambrace itself well-fitted - not long enough to impede his movement but not so short that it made his arm look overly brawny. Rosslyn was smiling at him, patient, bemused by the childish enthusiasm he betrayed in his admiration of the War Dog snarling on his arm.

“I know you didn’t expect anything,” he admitted, swallowing past the lump in his throat, “but I think I’m a little bit sorry I don’t have anything for you in return.”

She chuckled and rolled her eyes. “You don’t owe me anything for this.”

But her gaze flickered to his mouth, just a tiny movement of her eyes which he caught nevertheless, and he wondered if perhaps she was daring to ask for the return in a kiss. He wanted her to ask. They stood so close she had to tilt her head back to see him properly, so close his hand still on her waist felt the soft swell of her ribs as she breathed, the tension running like corded rope through her limbs. Beneath them, the ship pitched in the swell, tilting them further into each other’s space, and he realised if they did this now he wouldn’t want to stop.

“We – we should go,” he managed, to keep himself from staring.

She loosed a breath – relief? disappointment? – and stepped back. “We – yes. The tide will turn soon. It wouldn’t be a very good first impression to keep the Storm Giant waiting seven hours for it to turn back.”

“Right. Yes, of course, just let me…” He reached past her for his sword belt and buckled it while she waited, and then followed her out of the cabin. They kept a careful distance as they strode up into the light and bustle of the deck, to Isabela barking orders so she could be heard over the noise of the dog, and Morrence already setting Connor into the first longboat next to Wynne.

“Your turn next, Your Highness,” she said as they approached, offering a hand to help him over the rail. “Don’t think about the drop.”

“You could have told me that before I looked,” he replied, and peered dubiously over the side. The longboat floated fifteen feet below, still lashed to the hull of the ship but rolling against the moorings like a horse tossing its head at flies. One false step on the frankly perilous ladder and he could easily fall between the two barks and be trapped underneath, dragged down into the depths by the weight of his fancy clothes.

“There’s nothing to it,” Rosslyn reassured him with a squeeze of his shoulder. “I’ll go ahead and guide you down.”

The tails of her coat flared behind her as she swung over the side, almost as nimble as one of the sailors. Only Alistair saw the white grip of her knuckles on the ropes, and the careful frown as she judged the last step between the ladder and the boat, but she smiled encouragement up at him.

“Move one limb at a time,” she instructed. “Like you’re a lizard.”

“Am I a handsome lizard at least?”

She only rolled her eyes.

“Is the Storm Giant scary?” Connor asked, when Alistair had finally inched the last few steps into the boat. “I heard he can kill someone he doesn’t like just by looking at them.”

“What nonsense,” Wynne chided next to him. “Not even a basilisk can do that.”

Rosslyn shifted in her seat and winked at the arl’s son. “The Storm Giant isn’t a basilisk.”

A shout came from above and the lines holding them to the Siren’s Call went slack, gathered in by two of the crew, who scrambled down the ladder and took their places, one in the rowing seat and one by the tiller. With a final salute to the captain, the rower pushed off from the side with the butt of an oar, with enough force to drive them out into open water. The second boat with their guard-captains and herald followed shortly after, two motes of dust on a clear blue slate. Though the water was mostly calm, spray curled back at them from the oars, and once a rogue wave slapped against the hull, rocking them all sideways. Rosslyn flinched, a muttered curse hissing under her breath, but gentle fingers wrapped around hers where they clung to the board, and she shot a grateful smile to Alistair next to her.

They made it through the breakers mostly unsoaked, though the moment they touched solid ground jarred hard enough to make Alistair fall forward and smack his knee against the hull. Rubbing out the tingles, he straightened and stepped out onto a beach of black pebbles, unable to help craning his neck at the sheer basalt cliffs warding back the sea. The ground swayed beneath him, but no, it was just his balance reasserting itself after so long on the water.

“Is landsickness a thing?” he asked Rosslyn. “Because I think I have it. This feels weird.”

“You’ll get used to dry land again, just in time to make the crossing back,” she laughed as she stepped out next to him.

“Who’s that on the path?” Connor called from the boat.

The rest of the party turned to where he was pointing. A set of rough stairs had been cut into the rock, commanding a view over the whole bay as it carved down from the emerald cliffs above. There was no other way up, at least not that Alistair could see, and he tried not to think about the potential consequences of a bad first impression; the tidemark stained the rock a full armspan above his head, and with no other shelter from the waves, the defenders would only have to wait.

And there was the Storm Giant himself, Lord Fearchar Mac Eanraig, bearing down on them. Tall, with a shock of flyaway white hair and broad shoulders wrapped in dyed plaidweave, he marched at the head of his retinue with the pride of a full-crown hart, an enormous spiked mace girded at his hip. Without quite thinking about it, Alistair drew closer to Rosslyn’s side as their host descended the last few strides towards them. She noticed, and brushed her hand along his thumb in a brief show of reassurance. But when he caught her eye, she wasn’t smiling.

#dragon age #dragon age: origins #da:o #dragon age au #alistair x cousland #alistair theirin #cousland #rosslyn cousland #tabris #ferelden #thedas

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cancer-man-speaks · 5 years

Text

Cancer Sucks But You Live

My punctuation sucks because I haven’t evolved thumbs.

---------------------------

Sometimes I put things off so long that I feel ashamed and in turn try to bury it even deeper in the pile of things to do. As far as excuses go it’s not the greatest but most fall short of that. A great deal of that lost time is laziness but there is also a part of me that doesn’t want to look back, that doesn’t want to remember what it was like to be where you are at.

Always obsessed with outward appearance, I cracked a joke when the doctor told me that my PET scan lit up like a Christmas tree on crank. I cried in my sister’s arms when she ran to me across the snow dusted parking lot of the clinic. I smoked a pack of cigarettes on the car ride home, trying to keep my hands busy, to do something other than think about what this all meant. I calmed down before walking in, steeling myself to be as stoic and stone faced for my family as I could. In my head I thought that I couldn’t feel this for the sake of others around me. The moment I walked in the door, I saw the tear streaked faces of my mother and sisters. The dogs milled around their ankles not sure what to make of all their sorrow and their inability to help (or in our beagle’s case, his inability to get fed.) All my bluster, all my hubris fell away when I saw my loved ones, the things I had to lose all in one place. They embraced me one at a time then we came together as a group and I lost it. All motor control lost, my legs felt like jelly. They as a group, as a family supported my weight until I could stand on my own two feet again. The beagle, ever caring, bit me in the ankle for being too far into my mother’s person space.

When I got home from the biopsy, that confirmed the doctor’s suspicion of cool case of type b small cell non-Hodgkin's lymphoma, I took to sleeping on the floor. I told myself it was to keep my bad back comfortable but the truth was it felt good to have something solid underneath me as everything was changing. The days passed and the face in the mirror grew ever more foreign. The bone under my flab carved itself out in my cheeks and jaw. Hollow pockets formed around my eyes that gave me the look of an upstairs basement dwelling gnurdsferatu. The only thing that didn’t change were the patterns on the pitted hardwood of my floor. I’d take off my glasses, lay my head on the cool floor, and follow the whirls in the grain with my weary eyes until they lead out of blurry site. There was a comfort in knowing that just because I couldn’t see where the rich, brown lines ended it didn’t mean they were done travelling.

Either through pity or not being able to read the signs of chemotherapy I’d occasionally get compliments on my physique. Over a beer or two somebody would ask, “You look really good, man. What’s your secret? You been going to the gym or doing heroin?”

Nothing beats the satisfaction of the anti-joke that is responding with an off handed, casual, “I have cancer. It beats the hell out of doing palates.” After you explain the sitch to people a million times explaining it one more time is mundane and boring. They will stumble a second on their words; not sure if you are telling the truth or a joke in poor taste. It’s the ultimate, “Gotcha,” moment. When your diagnosis becomes blasé your spirits soar.

From a few days after I was diagnosed letters poured in by the boatload. Friends, family, friends of family, people that had passed me once at the mall and paid a compliment to my shoes all wanted me to know that there was hope and that I was not alone. I’d read them and be dumbfounded by the amount of care people could express for a stranger. I was even more dumbfounded by the amount of care the family could express. No matter how hard I tried to blend into the background, to continue my weird, self-isolation from my family they kept firing salvo after salvo of cards and gifts. They’d send me gum, stickers that said, “Fuck Cancer,” (Because as we know cancer is terrified of strong language.), and all manner of sweet, sweet candy treats. There was no way for me to stay off the radar of the people that loved me.

I held it together through my first few rounds of chemo. It really didn’t bother me until my hair fell out. Until my fourth round I was feeling like a million bucks. I was getting skinny, I lost a few stray hairs, and I had an actual license to smoke pot. What 24-year-old wouldn’t love that? I was driving to the store to grab a drink and I ran my hand through my hair and it came back in tufts between my fingers. Pulling off the road into an abandoned store’s parking lot I started neurotically, compulsively picking away at my scalp and beard. Handfuls of the stuff coated the front seat of my 03’ Accord but still I couldn’t stop. I watched in horror as my reflection warped in the rearview mirror. I just couldn’t stop. After a half hour of what scholars refer to as, “Going bananas real manic like,” I regained my composure. I drove myself over to a friend’s house and had her shear my head with the clippers her dad used to shave his back. From that day on I was bald. It wasn’t so bad when I got used to it. Every now and then I would get a weird phantom limb sensation, as though I still had a rugged mane of hair, when the breeze blew on my naked scalp.

I was in and out of the hospital all the time. My guts exploded one time when a tumor responded to the chemo and disappeared. It was what we wanted with the tumor, not so much what we wanted for my intestines. They cut out ten feet of my goop and stitched me back up. I was locked up in the cancer klink for two weeks after that. They had me on a tube and all of my food and fluids came from an IV, except when family or friends were around. They would sneak me a small cup of ice cubes, a rare sip of water, or even, once, a whole bottle of tangerine Bai over a whole night. Even when I was being a real grumpy cancer boy my friends, family, and everybody else would stick it out just to let me know I wasn’t alone. In that exact same stay, a friend of mine actually saved my life because he was able to understand my garbled speech through my nose/mouth tubes. I’d been trying to explain to my nurse that the bile vacuum they had in my guts was pumping my green-black bile back into me but she may have been one of god’s special people. When my friend confirmed that my gunk was being pumped back into me, he snagged somebody. Without that kind of support, I’d have either been dead or in the hooskow weeks longer. Not every situation is bubbling gut ooze but when it is remember to trust those people around you enough to say, “Hey, my bubbling gut ooze vacuum feels like its acting weird. Can you go look at the container the ooze is collecting in and tell me what it’s doing?”

You’d think that with all this gut busting and chemo I’d be taking it easy. Wrong. I’m a big idiot so instead of resting I kept smoking, went to the bars regularly, and tried my hand at in the DIY rock n’ roll venue game. My nights before chemo were full of putting anything and everything I could inflict on my body. Jumping through tables, mosh pits, and drinking beer bongs to Jean Claude Van Dame flicks were everyday occurrences. I’d been dumb before cancer. With the ability to live a bohemian, YOLO life I did just that. I’d burn the candle at both ends because I didn’t know if there was going to be a tomorrow. Tomorrow always came; usually with a Jimmy Buffet grade hangover. Dumb. I was dumb. I did seven rounds of chemo then stem cell and not once did I let off the gas petal of stupidity.

But you know what?

I survived. Against all odds, against odds that I was actively trying to stack against myself, I survived. Was it a miracle sent down from the heavens? Maybe. Was it aliens? I’d like to think so. Was it the constant support of my friends and loved ones coupled with cutting edge, state of the art technology in the hands of the most competent doctors and nurses in the industry even though I was hellbent on dying young and beautiful because I’m an idiot? That’s a run-on sentence. It’s also a pretty good idea of what kept me alive, what will keep you alive. I was full to the brim with cancer while dancing on the brink of self-immolation. If I did everything in my power to give myself the odds of a three-legged horse at the Kentucky Derby what do you think yours are? I bet you take care of yourself at least slightly better. I’d like to think that if I beat cancer there is an infinite amount of hope for you, who is not an idiot with a death wish, to go into remission.

There will be moments in the dead of night where you doubt your own survival. There will be bright days that you will sleep away. There will be moments where you lay on the floor in the fetal position bathed in hot tears and cold sweat. You will think of what a life without this hell would be like. You will feel like the cards are stacked against you. The, “What if’s,” will mix a cocktail of fatal fear in your skull eating away at your resolve. You will walk into your kitchen and forget for half an hour that you came in there for soup. You will throw that soup up and lay hunched and miserable over the porcelain for an hour. You will wonder who will carry your name? Who will see your babies walk across the stage at graduation?

The answer is you. This may be the worst moment of your life but it will not be the one that defines you. What defines you will be all that comes after this nightmare. With your two hands you will make great works. Gardens resplendent in their rainbow will call your master. You will see the white sands of far off beaches, will feel the artic chill of the frozen wastelands allegedly known as, “Canadia” far to the North. Mortal peril will be replaced with picking up the kids from karate and a gallon of milk. You will watch your children grow and cover this earth like that brand of paint I can’t mention for copyright reasons. As you watch them cross that stage or walk down the aisle you will have at your sides the same faces that did their best to make you smile from your bedside during your weakest moment. Trust in them as you would have them trust in you. They will be your guide when you cannot find yourself, we will be your guide.

#cancer #survivor #chemo #cancersurvivor #hope #advice #lymphoma #non hodgkins lymphoma #lifewithcancer #lifeaftercancer

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mossmurdock · 5 years

Text

see how it goes--pt.4

Richie Tozier x Fem!Reader(aged up)

Warnings:uh none

________________________

“And, my aunt has a pretty big house so she has a few spare rooms we could stay in. Oh, you could even invite all your friends too, they seem amazing. You have such amazing friends Rich, we could do tons of stuff as a whole group. My aunt doesn’t mind extra company. She would love you, Richie! California is such an amazing place--”

You finally looked up at Richie to see he’d been staring at you the whole time instead of continuing to draw an awful elephant on your hand. You smiled to try and hide the fact you were thinking of how your chest was tightening.

Squeeze, breath, and boa constrict yourself around my lungs.

“Richie, you know you can’t let me keep rambling like that. It’s probably really annoying.”

He looked back up at you, he really didn’t get why you thought your rambling was annoying. It was fucking adorable. Your eyes would always light up, and you always liked to talk with your hands. You’d make more vigorous motions when you were mad or talked about something you were extremely excited about.You’d bite your lip, make weird faces that he loved, and he would never want you to stop. This was one of those times.

“Love, it’s fine. Remember, I’m getting you to Cali no matter what it takes, so storm up as many ideas as possible. I’m all ears.” Richie smirked when he saw your reaction to the nickname. No matter the amount of times he did it, your face was priceless.

“Okay, Richie.” There was a long pause. “Your elephant looks like shit by the way.” Richie grabbed the hand sanitizer to try and start over and snorted.

“Shut the fuck up, you’re not exactly making it easy for me.” He waved his hands around just like you were to prove his point.

“You still can’t draw for shit, Tozier.” You said, grabbing one of the candies that were laying on your bed and trying to unwrap it with one hand.

Richie laughed and continued to try drawing the awful elephant on your hand, it’s eyes were too big and looked like it was on crack, the proportions of its legs were all kinds of off, but,Richie kept trying to fix it nonetheless. After a while he groaned and examined your hand, letting the pen fall out of his hand.

“I think I’m just going to wash this off for you--” he tried reaching for the hand sanitizer again but you stopped him.

“No, I like this one.”

He shrugged and grabbed your hand again, you were confused, the elephant was finished yet he still held it. He caressed your hand and wrote something on it.

“There.” he said. “Now no one can steal my amazing artwork.” Under the elephant was written ‘By: Richie’

He was still holding your hand, and then there’s this weird feeling in the air, there’s this awful ache in your gut that you can’t get rid of, and you’re confused and don’t know what to think, God, what are you thinking?

The both of you take a step forward.

You were laying on your aunt’s couch in front of the t.v, legs laid across Richie’s lap. Everyone had gone into their spare rooms to sleep, which was understandable since it was 12 a.m.

Your eyes roamed around the house, eyes flickering to photos of her and your mom, pictures of when you were little, and other family members. Taking note of all the random sticky notes that were in the fridge in the kitchen, of all the flowers that were in her front yard, the certain smell of the house when you walked in. Her house was so extremely warm and welcoming it overwhelmed you. The house was broken into like an old cherished sweater. You’d missed this place so much.

“Hey, you okay?” Richie lightly poked your foot. His eyes were half shut and he yawned after speaking.

“Yeah, just a little spaced out.” You removed your legs from his lap and leaned into his shoulder. “You tired?”

He yawned, “Not if you aren’t.”

You laughed and he smiled, his face bright from the glow of the t.v.

He casually slung his arm around you and brought you closer to him, your face buried into his Metallica shirt. You still couldn’t believe he’d actually done this for you, and couldn’t comprehend how you never caught on. It sort of made sense now, the looks the rest of the losers club gave the both of you when talking about the dream road trip, how’d they’d look at him and just sort of smile. It confused you at first, Richie would tell them to knock it off, but you never knew what he was talking about.

You caught him staring at you and it reminded you of something, something far too familiar. There’s this weird feeling in the air, there’s this awful ache in your gut that you can’t get rid of, and you’re confused and don’t know what to think. God, what are you supposed to think? You can feel him slowly moving in. You can feel your heart racing and the weird feeling in the air seems to evaporate, the ache in your stomach disappears. You know exactly what to think.

Then, he hesitates, leans away and coughs.

And your mind is fog again.

One of you takes a step forward, the other blinks and looks away.

“We should go to bed.” You quickly said. Standing up from your position with a quick motion, moving his arm with too much hast that you thought you might have dislocated his shoulder, you almost say sorry. But, he was too close. Burning.

He fumbled to get up. You caught an expression of regret painted on his face for a fraction of a second when he combed his air back. ‘My mind is messing with me,’ you think. The both of you are up now, looking at anything but each other, the random sticky notes thrown onto the fridge, photos of family members, trying and failing to pin-point the certain smell of the house. And just like before, that awful familiar feeling is back and taunting you both. grabbing the both of you by the shoulders and laughing in your faces.

Richie says something about it being late and heading to the room you and Bev were staying in, you nod, his muffled voice going through one ear and out the other, you felt dizzy, like you had gotten up way too fast and needed to sit back down, but whenever you did try and sit back down someone pulled the seat from under you.

You looked up to realize the both of you were in the room already and Richie was calling your name.

“Y/N?” Richie reached to put his hand on your arm, he was hesitant, but grabbed it anyway.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” His touch burned your skin, but you didn’t pull back.

“Yeah I’m fine,” you finally made eye contact. “What were you saying?” He slowly put his hand back down scared that he had left it there for too long. This was unnatural, nothing needed to be thought twice with the two of you, so why was he doubting everything?

You took a step away from him, it meant nothing to you. It felt like a stab in the chest for him, each step back was a slow and painful slash. He choked out words.

“It’s nothing.” He took a few more step backs himself, awkwardly fumbling or the door handle behind him.

“I guess I’ll see tomorrow morning then?” He asked. He nearly tripped over the rug your aunt had laid out into the long hallway. He remembered you telling him how you’d always run up and down them when you were little, you were running too fast and fell down the stairs like a soccer ball. Richie felt like that, like he was endlessly falling down stairs. What was right from left? Up and down? Everything was disoriented, what was once a definitive line of friends and more than that was blurred, mixed together, a swirl of white and black. None of you knew when the other may have crossed it first, which on took the first tentative step into something they knew nothing about. But now, now everything was so grey, so in-distinctive. The both of you had no idea where you stood.

“Yeah, see you.” He turned his back to you and closed the door

The both of you step back, one farther than the other. But, what was the point? There is no border.

Richie woke up the next morning with his glasses screwed across his face. He was still in the clothes he had worn the day before, his shirt now wrinkled, he hated the fact he was expecting you to be next to him. It reminded him of how you’d sometimes come over to his house. ‘I need help with homework.’, is what you’d say, he’d laugh, ‘Again? Thought you had the lesson down?’, and you would say, ‘Sorry that we’re not all geniuses like you Rich.’

You’d stay over at your house hours later finishing homework, sometimes eating dinner with your parents and other times bringing it up to his room and have weird conversations. When more time went by his parents would walk by his room to see you were still there, “Goodnight, Y/N.” is what they’d say, already being used to you staying overnight. You’d sleepover, then be gone the next morning as if you were never even there in the first place. You always left stupid sticky notes around his room before you left, he kept all of them.

He dragged himself off of the bed, trying not to wake up Stanley and silently slipping on his jacket. A huge amount of patches were either stitched on or ironed on by you. There was one of a flower, one of a beaver, a pair of glasses, there was even one you got custom made that had both of your names on it.

He couldn’t not think about you, it was physically impossible.

Everywhere, everywhere he looked just screamed your name.

Richie headed downstairs quickly looked out the window. It was nice outside, pretty blue skies and nice fluffy clouds.

‘That’s right Tozier, it’s an amazing morning in California today. Everything’s fine. Act like yourself will you?’

He removed himself from the window and checked the living room and kitchen to see if anyone else would be there. No one was in the living room, but the t.v was left on. He reached for the remote realizing it was the channel you and him were watching the night before, he turned the t.v off. He walked to the kitchen, eyeing a sticky note that was stuck to the fridge. Your handwriting was as pretty as ever. Eddie, Beverly, Bill, your aunt, and you went to the supermarket to pick up some things for the beach later today.

Richie stepped away from the fridge and walked over to the front of the house, slipping on his shoes and stepping outside.

He was surprised to find Ben and Mike in the backyard, Ben was reading a book and Mike was was playing around on his phone, Richie was now realizing he’d never seen either of them in the house earlier before. Mike noticed Richie standing there.

“Hey.” He put down his phone, grabbing the attention of Ben. “You and Y/N were the last people to go to bed.”

The sentence meant something. ‘Hey what happened between the two of you?’

Richie cleared his throat walking over to the patio and pulling out a chair.

“Y/N and I wouldn’t miss cartoons for anything.” Saying your name was painful, like he’d suddenly gotten sick.

Mike only hummed in response, Ben placed a bookmark in the page of his book.

“What time is it anyways?” Richie looked around the backyard, it wasn’t hard to tell that a lot of work was put into it.

“About 9 a.m, I think.” Ben responded, taking a glance at Mike’s phone. There was a second of silence, a second of breeziness and warm air, a second of a half finished paperback book, a second of an unread text message. The second flew by in an instant, Ben picked up his book again and Mike read whatever was on his phone. It must have been interesting, his brows furrowed and a tiny frown sketched his face. Mike put down his phone again looking towards Richie, Ben took a glance up from his book. Mike opened his mouth for a second, seeming to try and come up with a sentence.

“What’s with the face, Hanlon?” Richie asked.

Mike’s mouth stayed agape for a second, then he seemed to snap out of some trance and closed his mouth again.

“Nothing. Y/N just texted me.” His sentence trailed off and suddenly the bag of soil next to him was much more interesting to him. Ben looked like he was trying to bury himself into his book.

The sentence meant something again. ‘How about you spit out, Tozier? What happened?’

Richie grew apprehensive.

“Hey, what the fuck’s going on? Did I miss something, cause I feel like there’s something going on here.”

Ben looked up at him with an expression. He closed the book and set it down.

“Look, Rich,” He trailed off looked at Mike than looked back at him. “It’s just, did something happen last night?”

Richie looked down at the bag of soil and understood why Mike found it so interesting.

“Last night? What do you mean, Ben?”

“Rich,” Mike spoke up. “Beverly, told us this morning that when Y/N came back upstairs she saw something was off but Y/N wouldn’t tell her anything.”

Rich never looked up, he grew tense. He felt guilty, there was a sticky feeling in his stomach. Something like tar. God, he was such a fucking shitwad, couldn’t he just admit he liked you? He’s said to other girls before, so easily too, why the fuck was this any harder? Was he that afraid to lose you?

Maybe.

“Really? I mean all we did was watch some cartoons until like 2 a.m. It was pretty late and it was a long road trip, she was probably just super tired.”

Richie left it at that, nothing else said, a million things thought.

Then, the three of them heard a car pull over into the driveway, a loud honk, and loud cackling. Richie got up and combed back his hair.

‘You’re having an amazing day, Tozier. You’re in Cali, act like who she wants you need to be.’

Tag(s)

@caitlin-la (lol i don’t even know if you still wanna be tagged but whatever)

#IM ALIVE #richie #it2017 #ben #bev #stan #mike(mylove)#eddie #fanifc #xreader #richiexreader #richiexyou #ya'll want me to continue this??

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knitcrate · 2 years

Text

February 2022 Reveal

It’s time to reveal this month’s yarns and designs!

Meet the yarns and our themes in this month’s full crate reveal on YouTube.

youtube

Take a trip to the edge of the world where the land meets the water with our theme of Land and Sea. Feel the magic of the majestic, mysterious ocean as you listen to the waves hitting the rocky shore and washing up along the sand. Lichen- and moss-coated trees line the beach behind you and provide a peaceful, secluded oasis where you can enjoy the solitude of nature as you take in the picture-perfect view.

Meet this month’s featured yarns in our reveal video!

Knit & Crochet Club

Our featured yarn for February is a KnitCrate favorite: Vidalana Ascendance! This bouncy chainette yarn is airy and light, and even though it’s a sport weight yarn, it works similarly to a worsted or aran weight yarn. This 100% Peruvian Highland Wool will keep you warm and snuggly during the winter. Each 100g skein is 328 yards (300 m), and you will receive two matching skeins in one of three colorways.

Energize Me: Fatigue Green

Enjoy the deep green of the forest with Fatigue Green, a smooth avocado green that reminds us of the rich moss that clings to tree trunks and the foliage above.

Chill Out: Vivid Blue

This sunny and saturated Vivid Blue brings us to the deck of a cruise ship looking out over the ocean. Keep an eye out for whales as you gaze at the brilliant blue.

All Natural: Limestone

The brilliant white of Limestone evokes the crisp cleanliness of stones that dirt and moss don't attach to, glimmering in the sunlight as you make your way from the forest to the sea.

Knit & Crochet Club Patterns

Knit Pattern

Vanessa Coscarelli Black / VanessaKnits brings us the Woodland Magic Shawl that highlights the beauty of the woods. The textures of the shawl were inspired by the lichen that grows on tree trunks deep in the forest. This project is sure to infuse your stitches with a touch of magic from the woods.

KNIT Pattern Details

Needles: US 8 (5 mm) circular needle, 32” (80 cm) or size to obtain gauge

Yarn Needed: 656 yards / 2 skeins used

Colorway: Ancient Ruin

Notions: Stitch markers (14), tapestry needle, scissors, blocking boards and pins

Finished Measurements:

Wingspan: 60” (152.5 cm)

Depth: 26.5” (67.5 cm)

Crochet Pattern

Alexandra Halsey / With Alex created for us the Butterfly Surprise Shawl inspired by the beauty of butterflies flying through the flowers and grass. The shawl captures the surprise moment when a butterfly appears out of nowhere, using texture changes and a lacy background to create beautiful butterfly motifs. Add a pop of nature's beauty to your wardrobe with this eye-catching shawl.

CROCHET Pattern Details

Hook: US Size L/11 (8.0 mm)

Yarn Needed: 630 yds (576 m) used / 2 skeins needed

Colorway: Ancient Ruin

Notions: Tapestry needle

Finished Measurements: 18” (46 cm) wide and 96” (244 cm) long

Not a member yet? Join today!

Sock Knit & Crochet Club

We're delighted to bring you the extra-cozy Audine Wools Landscape for February's featured sock yarn. This mix of 85% Wool, 15% Nylon packs all the warmth your feet desire during these cold months, and will be sure to insulate you for your trip from forest to sea. Each 100g skein includes 400 yards (365 m) of fingering weight yarn for your next sock project, and your sock crate will come with one skein in one of these two colorways.

Energize Me and All Natural: Dried Leaves

Leaves crunch beneath your shoes as your handmade sock-covered feet make the trek to the yarn store. Enjoy the rich red tones of Dried Leaves for both our Energize Me and All Natural color vibes, infused with a cinnamon brown that reminds us of autumn days gone by.

Chill Out: Ferry Crossing

Listen for the horn of the ferry boat as it parts the water between islands, sending undulating waves cascading behind it. The watery navy shades of Ferry Crossing will keep your feet cozy while you make the trip to land.

Sock Club Patterns

Knit Pattern

All Knit Up Designs brings us the beautiful Sand Lines sock design. Just like the ocean water leaves its mark on the sand as the waves sweep in and out, intricate lines form on the fabric of these cozy and sophisticated socks. You're sure to enjoy the distinct and lovely patterns that emerge as you knit up this beginner-friendly design.

KNIT Pattern Details

Needles: US 1.5 (2.5 mm) (Needle ambiguous, you can use your preferred sock knitting method, i.e. DPNs, Magic Loop, 9” circulars, two circulars.) 

Yarn Needed: 236 (284, 337) yds (216 (260, 308) m) used / 1 skein needed for all sizes

Colorway: Dried Leaves

Notions: Stitch Markers (2), Tapestry Needle 

Finished Measurements: 7 (7.5, 8)” / 18 (19, 20) cm around foot of the sock 

Crochet Pattern

Abbey Swanson / The Firefly Hook created the delightful Pebbles in Streams crochet socks. These short ankle socks feature textured pebbles along the top of the foot that make stitching up this pattern fun and interesting. The distinctive stitch pattern on these socks makes us think of glossy pebbles drifting in a river and are perfect for sliding into a pair of puddle-jumping shoes for your next riverside trip.

CROCHET Pattern Details

Hook: G/6 (4.0 mm)

Yarn Needed: 190 (240, 290, 360, 420) yds (174 (220, 265, 330, 385) m) / 1 skein needed for sizes A, B, C and D, 2 skeins needed for size E.

Colorway: Ferry Crossing

Notions: Stitch markers (3), tapestry needle

Finished Measurements:

To Fit: Foot Circumference: 8-9 (9-10, 10-11)" / 20-23 (23-25, 25-28) cm 

7 (8, 9, 10, 11)” / 18 (20, 23, 25.5, 28) cm

Not a member yet? Join today!

Malabrigo Quarterly Club

Our quarterly Malabrigo partner crate brings us an exclusive colorway made just for KnitCrate members called Mountain View. This sophisticated variegated colorway features tone-on-tone shades of blue with a splash of rusty orange, and is featured on Malabrigo Worsted, a luxuriously soft 100% merino wool. Each 100g skein is 210 yards (192 m) of single ply, worsted-weight yarn. This quarterly crate will come packed full of three squishy skeins ready to fly across your hooks and needles.

Knit Pattern

The Sandy Waves Shawl by Emily O'Brien / Kitty With A Cupcake offers a relaxing knitting experience that is easy enough for beginners yet interesting enough for experts. Slipped stitch waves entwine with seed stitch to provide a soothing rhythm reminiscent of waves rolling in along a sandy beach. The right-triangle shape of the shawl has just enough texture to provide visual interest while highlighting the beautiful hand-dyed yarn.

KNIT Pattern Details

Needles: US 8 (5 mm) circular needle, 37” (94 cm)

Yarn Needed: 570 yards/ 3 Skeins

Colorway: Jewel Blue

Notions: tapestry needle, stitch markers (9).

Finished Measurements: 66” (167.5 cm) wingspan (hypotenuse), 44” (112 cm) length, 44” (112 cm) width.

Crochet Pattern

The St. Clair Infinity Wrap by Melanie Depcinski / Counting Crafty Sheep draws inspiration from Lake St. Clair on the shores of Michigan. Just like its namesake, it's full of textures, colors, and climates. Glassy water and gentle waves adorn the fabric of the wrap, made with berry and vine stitches that offer visual and textural interest. Whether worn loose around your shoulders or wrapped cozily around your neck, this accessory is perfect for your lakeside exploration.

CROCHET Pattern Details

Hook: US H/8 (5 mm)

Yarn Needed: 630 yds (576 m) used / 3 skeins needed

Colorway: Mountain View

Notions: Stitch marker, tapestry needle

Finished Measurements:

Length (inches/centimeters): 39 in / 99 cm

Width (inches/centimeters): Single Side Rib Section 5 in / 125 cm, Vine Stitch Section 6 in / 15 cm

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moralityblurred · 6 years

Text

from dusk til dawn s1 starters

send a number 1-120 or ‘🐍’ for a random starter, or send a sentence below the cut

“Sometimes you just get up, and you just know it’s gonna be one of them days. Open your eyes and you look and nothing but bad road.”

“Seeing how I’m stuck between no place and nowhere, the only folks come in here are the a strange ones.“

“You add it up, you see how you’re spending your life from sunup to sundown, and you make the most of that time. ‘Cause it fleets.”

“You think that I can’t get us out of this situation, like I’m some kind of amateur. I brought you into the profession.“

“It’s just you and me now. We are it, all right? And, hey, brother that is a beautiful thing.”

“You shouldn’t call people stuff! You know?! It’s rude!”

“What the hell do you think you’re doing? Are you looking to redecorate this place - in shades of red?”

“Let me ask you a question, huh? You got a wife and kids, people that love you that are gonna hate seeing you all stitched together like a sock puppet in the local morgue? Then why don’t you put that weapon down and come on out from behind there, hero? 'Cause us, we ain’t got nothing to lose.”

“I don’t care if he’s banging the first lady, okay? Get him on the line!”

“She’s not a secretary, and she hates to be called that.”

“Trust him because he sees things you don’t.”

“Now, you’re not gonna make me count to 3, are ya? 'Cause I can’t count that high.”

“I didn’t get shot so these sons of bitches could ride off into the sunset.”

“The only mistake that I’ve made is stopping my train of thought to listen to this bullshit.”

“I’ll see you on the other side, cabrón.”

“Even if you have to follow them to the gates of hell, you kill them for me.”

“You had five years to improve yourself, and you played dominos. Is that why I risked my ass to bust you out of that prison transfer?”

“If it had been you in there, you would have got shivved on your first day on account of your piss-poor people skills.”

“I don’t need people skills. I’m a prodigy.“

“Do not dismiss the importance of becoming self-sufficient. Look at the world around you, brother. It’s coming apart.”

“And the man who cannot build his own shelter or gut his own food is just courting disaster.”

“Well, I’m about to apply my fist to your goddamn face, okay?“

“Just because I live in the woods doesn’t mean that I can’t plan a job anymore.”

“Here’s to getting rich and fat. And dying in the arms of a beautiful woman.”

“You’re like a classic Freudian test case, you know that?“

“The border’s still an hour and a half away. By the time we get there, it’ll be swarming with badges.”

“You know, whenever I heard stories in the clink about you losing your edge, living out in the woods like grizzly Adams, I never really believed them.“

“Something’s coming. Something bad, and you and the rest are just a bunch of sheep sleepwalking to the slaughter.”

“Look, I know you like to grieve like you’re alone on an island sometimes, but you’re not.”

“Something happened in that bank, something that got you killing, and you haven’t stopped since.“

“Souls are like… popsicles. Some are sweet, some are bitter, some are strong, and some are weak. There’s a whole rainbow of kinds. Might as well come in a variety pack.”

“We’ll stop. All right? We’ll stop, we’ll, uh, we’ll ditch the car, we’ll get rid of the teller. And whatever’s going on with you… We’ll fix it. Okay?“

“You touch her, I will personally make sure you spend so much time in the hole, your own brother won’t recognize you when you get out.”

“The world never gave you anything. All the world ever did was take.“

“But right now, I need you to trust in the pagan power of technology and please look up that border crossing.”

“This is an ancient weapon used in ritual sacrifice. It’s been written about. Never seen. This should not exist.“

“Well, the eye-in-hand motif appears in codices going back 3,000 years. Represents the two most important gifts a God can bequeath on a man… The ability to see and the ability to take action.”

“You know, I’m not just some dipshit triggerman who screams at bank tellers to open their drawers. I am a scientist, a master tactician. I am a lock artist.“

“Did you forget that I cased that bank for three weeks? That I knew every teller’s schedule upside down, inside out? That I knew that they would be stocking that ATM when you pushed your way in?”

“You’re playing some kind of game with me. You’re trying to play a trick on me. You think that I can’t hear your voice inside me head?!”

“Yeah, I’d say this, uh, little adventure you’re on might be cut a whole hell of a lot shorter than you think.“

“She was consumed and transformed and became a mistress of the night, a harbinger of the next realm.”

“I hear things inside my head, and sometimes she talks to me!“

“This is not who we are. This is not who you are.”

“ This is all gonna be a memory when we get to El Rey. It’s gonna be blue agave… Sunshine, and beaches. Just you and me, buddy. It’s you and me.“

“For so many of us, the journey is one of solitude. We tell ourselves we must walk this arduous road alone. Face whatever comes, no matter how terrible.”

“You see, our eyes are the source of our energy. You can always feel somebody’s eyes on you, but what you’re actually feeling is their energy directed right at you. Now, what happens if you close your eyes? You cut off your energy. If you can just shut down, not only will people not see you, but they’ll see through you.“

“My daddy says a lot of things.”

“It was like you were bleeding, like you were hurting inside.”

“ Everyone should have their hero switch in the ‘off’ position. I make the plan. Everybody executes it, or I execute you. Simple as ‘Sesame Street.’"

“I’ve tuned in to something. And it is showing me the way.“

“You’re part of the last line of defense between chaos and order.”

“We’re gonna survive this 'cause we’re a family.“

“You got nothing to say, huh? That’s funny. I could have sworn you gave me an "f. u.” look.“

“My mistake. Maybe it wasn’t an "f. u.” look. Maybe it was an “I’m gonna make a move” look.“

“You see, you point at what you want to die. You pull the little trigger. Little bullet comes out here. Little bullet hits you right there. Then you don’t look like Bruce Lee anymore.”

“I didn’t know you were capable of not talking.“

“I’m a professional thief, not a killer.”

“That is the third time you’ve disobeyed my direct orders, and nearly got two more men killed for it.“

“Maybe… I’m hoping we hit 17 potholes. So I can empty this entire mag in that smartass mug of yours.”

“Look, I don’t want to have to do this, but I’m gonna have to kill 'em, okay? It’s the only way.“

“Okay, for a while now, I’ve been getting these… signals, I guess you could call them.”

“Guys like that, need to be reminded that power shifts. And as soon as I get the chance, I’m gonna shift it right up that whack job’s ass.“

“You know, a life of looking over his shoulder – isn’t gonna bring him any peace.”

“You take that gun off my brother before the ounce of forgiveness that I have on reserve goes away…“

“Now, I know that you thought you could. I do. But that was before you had your finger on the trigger, wasn’t it? You see, now that you do, you’re worried about the consequences, whereas I am not. That’s why your hand’s shaking and mine’s steady as a rock.”

“Look, if I don’t kill everybody in here, we are never gonna make it.“

“Well, maybe that’s what the voices are telling you, but they’re not calling the shots right now, okay?”

“You three stay out here with the devil’s rejects, have your own little altamont.”

“You do not close a deal behind enemy lines, [name]. You do it on neutral ground.“

“And you think you’re better than me? You too good to have a drink with a common thief?”

“Now, like it or not, we are a family… A broken, messed up, sad excuse for a family.“

“We ain’t got to shoot anybody in the back to make a statement.”

“You just sat down to the table. It’s a little early to fold your hand.“

“You kept saying somebody was calling you here, right? What did you mean by that?”

“Rinche, you’re early to the party, and I don’t remember seeing your name on the list.“

“Obsidian. So much more than steel. It’s a dark mirror. It showed you things, didn’t it?”

“I want you to see this place for what it really is. I want you to feel what I’m feeling.“

“I’m your goddamn brother, and you treat me like I’m the ugly stepkid in the attic.”

“Let me ask you this. Is this really where we belong?“

“No. I’ve seen them in a vision, but I have no clue what these things are.”

“Turns out, you’ve been a part of this club before I even knew it existed.“

“We’re standing on sacred ground.”

“I could feel her inside my head, and she was pulling me close. And, yeah, I think it was to this place.“

“You need a PhD to figure that out?”

“You’re one rude little bastard.”

“35. You did the last one without me, big papa, and it got you tossed in the can.“

“You’re so up your own ass right now.”

“Trick is to find the light again, share it with those you love before it’s too late for all of us.“

“Do you honestly think that I would be here if I was gonna bail on you?”

“So that’s what she taught you to do with your little knife. Back-stab.”

“I’m getting real sick of you calling me a traitor.”

“I wanted to show you who I was on my own terms.“

“You’re stronger now. I’ve drawn that out of you… steel sharpening steel.”

“That was a cruel and ugly thing to do to an innocent girl.“

“These stories are just ancient history to most people. But I always believed the power they spoke of was true.”

“Now, I can do ‘Temple of Doom’, man, but ‘Crystal Skull’, I’m out.“

“There’s nothing but death and misery that way.”

“Time’s like a ribbon… Finds a way of knotting itself into a bow.“

“You’ll be an immortal among mortals, a king among men. You’ll have everything you’ve ever wanted. All you have to do is ask.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard this story before… young girl plays lost and afraid, hooks a guy, and he falls in love with her. He’ll do anything to protect her. Next thing he knows, he’s lying face down in a swimming pool, reading his own narration.“

“You’ll become more than you ever were… Beyond fire and water… Beyond light and dark… Beyond dusk and dawn.”

“Sorry, brother. Things are about to get a little weird.“

“Whoever has the purity of mind to withstand the trials will be deemed worthy.”

“You made it personal, and that’s why you blew it.“

“You don’t believe he can be saved, do you?”

“We were gonna keep you around for inside information, but there’s been a change in plans. You’re going to serve a higher purpose.“

“You have no idea what I live with day in, day out.”

“Sooner or later, we all dance with the reaper.“

“I think our trickster brothers are trying to pull a fast one.”

“The serpent is filled with her blood. She’s inside me now, [name].”

“I don’t know who you are anymore. I don’t know what you are.“

“[name], something evil and vicious has taken hold of you.”

“When you bite someone, it’s like… it’s like you can feel their life run right through you.“

“I could never hate you as much as you hate yourself.”

“How can I imprison someone when I’ve been in chains my whole life?“

“Do you think it’s possible for someone to change their fate?”

“You know, it’s funny this whole thing kind of reminds me of this job that we pulled about seven years ago in Cheyenne. Yeah, it didn’t just go sideways. It went three ways. We pulled it off, though, didn’t we, brother? You remember Cheyenne, don’t you?“

“You taste like sh1t, by the way.”

“You ever find that beach and blue agave, you let me know. Maybe I’ll come join you.“

#rp memes #rp ask memes #rp sentence starters #rp sentence meme #inbox meme #ask meme #( meme. )#( reposts this from ro's old blog cuz i'm deleting it )#( queue. )

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